Page 23

ALESSIO

I wake before Sophie, her body curled into mine like she was meant to be here.

My arm's numb, but I don't move. Not yet.

She’s soft and warm and so goddamn peaceful, like nothing outside this bed exists.

And maybe for a second, I let myself believe that. Let myself pretend this could be permanent.

Her breath tickles my chest.

I brush a strand of hair off her cheek, and something tightens in my chest.

If this is what love feels like, then yeah, it’s beautiful. But it’s also fucking terrifying.

I’ve never had this, not with anyone. Not the peace, not the stillness, not the quiet magic of waking up beside someone and wanting to stay. Every morning before this felt like a blur, a race. But this? It slows everything down, makes me want to breathe deeper, stay longer, hold on tighter.

More than ever, I see now that the women before Sophie were distractions, something to numb the pain, to numb me.

But this? This is steady. This is constant. This feels like coming home to something I didn’t even know I needed. This is everything to me.

I slide out of bed quietly, careful not to wake her. I head into the kitchen and start on breakfast, pancakes, bacon, fresh fruit cut with more care than I knew I had in me.

I’ve never cooked for anyone before her. Hell, I barely cooked for myself. But she makes me want to learn. To try.

By the time she wanders in, hair a sleepy mess and wearing one of my shirts, I’m plating everything like I didn’t just Google how long bacon should sizzle.

She raises an eyebrow. “You trying to get laid again?”

I smirk. “Is it working?”

She laughs, and something inside me fucking soars.

We eat at the counter, skin brushing with every shift and stretch, like neither of us wants to pull away.

Her bare thigh grazes mine, and it takes everything in me not to slide my hand over and keep it there.

She steals a bite of my pancake and moans softly. “Okay, maybe this earns you some points.”

“Only some?” I brush my knee deliberately against hers. “Tough crowd.”

Her lips twitch. “You’re shameless.”

My voice lowers, edged with something that feels too close to need. “And you’re still here. Wearing my shirt. Eating my pancakes. Smiling like we haven’t shattered every rule you ever made.”

Her smile shifts into something softer. Warmer.

She doesn’t deny it.

Because somewhere between all the teasing and touches, we stopped pretending. And I don’t know how to go back.

But deep in the back of my mind, I can't fight the feeling that this won’t last. Nothing this good ever does. Not for someone like me.

After breakfast, Sophie’s phone buzzes with a calendar alert. She glances at the screen and sighs.

“I have back-to-back calls in twenty minutes.” She stands up to grab her laptop from the bedroom.

I watch her move through the apartment like everything is already slipping through our fingers. The quiet, the closeness, the illusion that nothing outside matters.

“Don’t go disappearing on me today,” I say, half-joking.

She pauses in the hallway. “I have work, Alessio.”

I nod, but the tension’s there. Thin, but growing.

She comes back to kiss my cheek. “I’ll be in the office corner. Just... try not to be too distracting.”

I raise an eyebrow. “No promises.”

She smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes this time. And I don’t miss the way she clutches her phone tighter when it buzzes again. Work. Pressure. Expectations.

And just like that, reality is knocking.

While Sophie disappears behind her laptop, I pace the living room with a restlessness I can’t shake.

I pick up my phone and thumb through missed messages, mostly updates from Nikolai. Nothing urgent, but enough to remind me the peace I’ve been clinging to is fragile. Conditional. Borrowed time.

Then comes the text that punches through the quiet:

Unknown Number :

You look comfortable. Enjoy it while it lasts.

My stomach knots.

I stare at the screen, rereading the line as if it’ll make more sense the second time. Or the third. But it doesn’t.

I don’t tell Sophie.

Instead, I delete the message and toss my phone face down on the coffee table. The hum of her voice from the corner, confident, professional, feels like a wall between us.

And I get it. She has a world to run.

But damn it, I’m terrified of slipping back into mine.

***

Later that day, she changes for a high-level investor meeting, and I swear, every time she walks out of that bedroom in full power mode, it knocks the breath out of me.

She’s wearing a slate-gray dress that hugs her curves like a whispered promise, elegant, precise, and dangerous in all the right ways, heels that make her legs look like they could bring nations to their knees, and a sleek bun that screams don’t fuck with me.

But it’s her, my Sophie, underneath all that. And I can't look away.

I lean against the doorframe as she clips on a pair of earrings. “You’re going to ruin lives walking in there like that.”

She smirks at me in the mirror. “I ruin balance sheets, not lives.”

I cross the room slowly, pulling her gently by the waist until she’s angled toward me.

“You look hot.” The words come out raspier than I intend.

It’s more than attraction, it’s awe. Because no one’s ever made me feel this undone just by standing there.

She hums. “You’d better behave while I’m gone.”

I grin. “No promises.”

It’s banter, light and teasing, but it carries weight. Because underneath the jokes and heat, there’s something I’m not saying.

Don’t stay gone too long.

Don’t realize I’m not enough.

She grabs her bag and heads for the door, pausing just long enough to glance over her shoulder. One last look, one more flicker of hesitation.

Something unreadable flashes in her eyes, but then it’s gone. She straightens her spine, lips pressed into determination.

I follow, leaning in to press one last kiss to her lips.

“Be amazing.”

She nods. “Always.”

And then she walks out, leaving the scent of her perfume and a silence that feels suddenly too loud.

I shut the door, lock it, and turn back to the empty apartment.

It feels too still.

I check my phone again. No new threats. No unknown numbers. Just the echo of that last one, still haunting me.

Enjoy it while it lasts.

***

I meet my father and Valentino for lunch at a private lounge tucked away from the chaos of the city. No cameras, no press. The boys, espresso, and more scrutiny than I signed up for.

Valentino’s already nursing a drink when I slide into the booth. My father joins a minute later, looking like he hasn’t slept.

“So,” Valentino says, eyeing me. “You’re still alive. That’s a win.”

Dad chuckles. “He looks… different. Less like a wrecking ball, more like a man.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” I look at the waiter and signal for a coffee.

Valentino nods. “Whatever’s going on, keep doing it.”

There’s something behind his words. A kind of approval he rarely gives.

I shrug. “I’m staying busy.”

“Busy?” My father arches a brow. “Doing what, exactly?”

I sip my coffee, then smirk. “Bartending.”

Valentino nearly chokes. “You? Working?”

“Don’t get used to it.” But there’s pride in my voice I don’t bother hiding.

Dad leans back, arms crossed. “It’s not just work, is it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb. We saw the interview. How you two are at the office. The way Sophie looks at you.”

Valentino frowns. “Is this just a fling?”

I meet their gazes. No hesitation.

“No. It’s not.”

And saying it aloud makes it even more real.

Even more terrifying.

After lunch, I turn down the offer of a car and decide to walk.

The crisp breeze is a welcome change, something about it feels grounding after that conversation.

I shove my hands in my coat pockets and keep my head low, letting the city noise dull the churn in my chest.

My phone buzzes.

Luciana:

Didn’t die behind the bar yet?

I smirk and text back,

Alive. Sweating. Probably overpoured three G&Ts.

Luciana:

Proud of you. Kind of. What’s new?

I hit call instead.

“Wow,” she says as soon as she picks up. “An actual phone call. Who are you, and what have you done with my brother?”

“I figured your fingers could use a break from texting back with sarcasm.”

She snorts. “You’re not wrong.”

We fall into easy chatter. She tells me about life in a small town, goat yoga, some guy named Marco who tried to ask her out. I tease her relentlessly.

Eventually, she softens. “You sound... lighter. Is it Sophie?”

“Yeah.”

There’s a beat of silence on her end, then a quiet, “You really like her.”

“I don’t just like her, Lu.”

Another pause. “Good. I’ve only been praying for you to fall stupid in love for like a decade.”

I laugh. “You—"

“Alessio?”

The slightly familiar voice cuts through the crowd.

I look around and spot her.

Jenna or Jessica or whatever her name is.

She’s across the street, walking fast, calling out again, "Alessio!"

Our eyes lock.

Shit.

She starts crossing, determination in her stride.

I square my shoulders and plaster on a grin, intercepting her just before she can reach the sidewalk.

“Wow, how did you know how to find me?” I go for a light tone, arms folded.

She reaches out, brushing her fingers along my jacket. “It’s been a while. We have been trying to reach you.”

Then she leans in, lips parting like she’s about to kiss me.

I pull back with a grin and a shake of my head. “Easy, tiger. I did some intense cardio, and I'm still sore.”

She laughs, but it’s tight. “You haven’t changed.”

“Nope.” I start stepping away. “Still me. Just… busier.”

I flash her a wink, then cross the street without looking back.

That was too close.

Way too close.

***

Later that evening, Sophie's sitting cross-legged on the couch, her laptop balanced on her thighs and her hair in a messy bun.

She's wearing her college hoodie and those damn booty shorts that accentuate the curves of her nearly exposed ass. She’s all focus and frown lines, scrolling through merger analytics with laser precision.

I settle behind her, hands finding her shoulders, kneading gently.