Page 27

SOPHIE

I curl into the corner of my couch, legs tucked under me, wrapped in one of Alessio’s oversized shirts that hangs off one shoulder. The cotton smells like him, warm and faintly spicy, and it feels like a second skin. The kind I don’t want to take off.

Takeout containers litter the coffee table, half-eaten pad thai and a mess of crumpled napkins. It’s chaos. Cozy, delicious chaos.

Alessio pads in from the kitchen barefoot, his damp hair sticking up in wild tufts, sweatpants slung low on his hips. He’s holding a bottle of wine in one hand, two mismatched glasses in the other. His grin is lazy and lopsided, like he’s never been more content in his life.

He settles beside me, close enough that our thighs touch, and hands me a spring roll like it’s a peace offering. Or maybe a bribe.

He cracks open the wine with a casual twist. “I know it’s not some glitzy dinner party, but I figured you deserved a night off.”

I take the spring roll and bump his knee with mine. “It’s perfect.”

And I mean it.

Even with the static of uncertainty buzzing at the back of my mind.

Even with the world beyond this apartment still sharp and waiting.

Right here, right now, wrapped in food, wine, and the comfort of him...

It feels like everything.

We eat like we’re starved. Passing cartons back and forth, stealing bites from each other’s plates without asking.

The quiet that fills the room isn’t awkward, it’s comfortable. Familiar. The kind of silence that only happens when you know you don’t have to say a thing to be heard.

Alessio attempts to use chopsticks, fumbling with them like they’re surgical tools. He stabs at a noodle, misses, then sighs dramatically.

“Why are these even legal?” He squints at the chopsticks like they’ve personally offended him.

Then he switches into a thick, over-the-top Italian accent. “In my country, we eat with a fork. A proper one. With pride.”

I nearly choke on a spoonful of curry, laughter bursting out of me so suddenly it turns into a snort.

He grins. “If I keep this up, you might actually start to like me.”

I roll my eyes, but the smile’s already spreading across my face. And I don’t bother denying it.

When the cartons are empty and the wine glasses are half full, he leans toward me. Close. His hand brushes mine, then trails up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

His lips press against my jaw, soft, unhurried. Warm.

“You amaze me. You know that?”

I smile, but something flutters in my chest, sharp and unexpected.

No one’s ever said that to me. Not like that. Not without wanting something in return.

I brush my fingers over his. “Careful. Say things like that, and I might actually start believing you mean them.”

We move to the floor, backs against the couch, the wine bottle between us and our glasses balanced precariously on the rug.

The lights are low, casting everything in a golden hush. Outside the windows, the city glows, distant, untouchable.

Alessio swirls the wine in his glass, quiet for a beat. Then he glances at me, and the teasing’s gone.

“I never thought I could feel this way about someone. Not really.”

I look at him, startled. Not by the words, but by how hard it seems for him to say them.

He keeps going, eyes on his glass. “It terrifies me. How much I… how much space you take up in here.” He taps two fingers against his chest. “And I’m just…every day…I’m trying to be someone who deserves you.”

My heart stutters.

It would be easy to make a joke, to smooth over the heat rising in my throat.

But he’s being real with me. So, I meet him there.

“I get scared too. Not of you, but… of letting someone in. Of getting it wrong again. Of waking up one day and realizing I gave everything I fought for away.”

His eyes lock on mine. Gentle. Steady.

“I’ve spent so long trying to prove I’m more than someone’s girlfriend,” I whisper. “That I’m not just some accessory to a man’s life.”

He doesn’t speak. He just reaches out and laces our fingers together.

For a while, we sit in that silence. In the truth of it. No masks. No PR polish. Just us.

He lifts my hand, his thumb brushing slowly across my knuckles. “I know I can’t give you everything. But I’ll give you everything I have. Always.”

I don’t answer right away.

My chest aches in the best kind of way. There’s a tremble in my breath I don’t try to hide.

“I think I might be falling for you, Alessio.”

His breath catches like I’ve knocked the wind out of him. He blinks, like he didn’t hear me right.

Then, quietly, fiercely, he says, “I know I’m falling for you. So damn hard it scares the hell out of me.”

And then his mouth is on mine.

The kiss is slow at first, reverent. But it deepens quickly, turning hungry. Desperate. Like he’s afraid of losing this moment, of letting it slip through his fingers.

We rise together, our bodies already drawn like magnets.

We make our way to the bedroom.

We fall into bed like we’ve been waiting for this moment all night. Maybe since that first night together. I know I have.

The room is warm from the wine, the laughter, the truth we spilled on the floor. But it’s our skin that turns it into something else entirely.

His hands trail over me slowly, like he’s memorizing every inch.

I tug his shirt off and let my fingers explore the defined ridges of his abdomen, following the line of his V until his breath stutters.

He kisses me again, deeper now, surer. The kind of kiss that says there’s no one else, nowhere else.

His mouth finds my neck, my shoulder, and the top of my breast, until I’m arching beneath him, breath catching as his hands grip my hips.

My shirt and joins his on the floor. Then his mouth is on my chest, slow, open-mouthed kisses that make my thighs clench.

One hand slips between my legs, moving my panties to the side.

His fingers brush against my clit in gentle circles. The sensation coils low in my belly, making my breath hitch.

I open for him instinctively, moaning as he slides two fingers inside me, slow and deliberate.

He pumps them gently, curling just right, his thumb still circling my clit until I’m gasping, my hips moving against his hand.

He lingers there, lavishing each breast with attention.

His tongue circles one nipple, teasing, before he takes it into his mouth and sucks, slow and deep.

I gasp, my fingers threading through his hair as he switches to the other, licking, flicking, sucking until I'm squirming beneath him, heat pooling low in my belly.

I flip us over, straddling him with a grin, my hair falling like a curtain around us. I lower myself against his stomach, trailing kisses down his chest, until I reach the waistband of his boxers.

When I slide them down, his hardened length springing free, and I take him in my hands, both of them, stroking slowly, deliberately.

He's hard, heavy, and pulsing with need.

“You’ve been dying for this, haven’t you?” I lick a slow line up his shaft, trailing a bead of my spit over his cock to ease the glide.

When I tighten my grip, he lets out a guttural groan, his head falling back into the pillow, eyes burning into mine.

I drag my thumb over the tip where precum gathers, then trace the underside of his head, right where I know he’s most sensitive.

He twitches in my grip, a curse slipping past his lips.

I toy with him, watching his face twist with pleasure, his muscles tensing beneath me.

“Tell me how you like it,” I whisper.

“Just like that, dolcezza. Fuck, you make me crazy.”

When he starts to throb in my grip, I rise and peel my panties off, tossing them aside. I straddle him again, my hand guiding him to my entrance.

“Let me ride you,” I whisper.

He groans, hands sliding up my thighs as I slowly sink down on him, inch by inch, deliberately slow.

I lower my hips into him, until I'm buried to the hilt. I savor the stretch, the fullness, the way his eyes burn into mine like I’ve just stolen the last of his breath.

“Jesus, woman. You feel so fucking good.”

I roll my hips in lazy, grinding circles, watching his eyes darken with every movement.

“Look at you,” he says, voice hoarse. “Riding my cock like it’s yours.”

“It is mine.” I grind down harder.

He groans, hips bucking beneath me.

I set the rhythm, slow, deep thrusts that make both of us gasp.

His hands slide up to cup my breasts, thumbs teasing my nipples as I ride him, chasing the coil inside me.

His hands grip my thighs, eyes locked on mine like I’m the only thing he can see.

I ride him with purpose, chasing the pressure curling low in my stomach until it coils tight and bursts.

I cry out, trembling as my climax crashes through me, every nerve alight, every inch of me pulsing around him.

Just as my orgasm washes over me, he grabs my waist and flips us, pinning me beneath him with a growl.

“My turn.”

He presses the head of his cock to my entrance, easing in inch by inch, savoring the way my body stretches to take him.

His breath hitches, mine catches.

He begins to move, slow, deliberate thrusts that send shivers through me, each one deeper than the last. He grinds into me with unrelenting purpose, burying himself to the hilt, his hips angling just right to hit every tender spot inside me with precision and care.

I gasp as his head grinds against my g-spot, again and again, his hips rolling with control and precision.

My fingers clutch at his back, nails digging into his shoulders as I wrap my legs around him, pulling him closer, deeper.

The air is thick with heat, the rhythm between us building with every breathless moan and stuttered exhale.

He stays buried inside me, grinding just enough to drive me wild, his mouth brushing over my cheek, my jaw, my lips.

“ Dolcezza ,” he groans into my ear, like a prayer and a warning all at once.

“Yes?”

“I’m yours.”

His thrusts deepen, his control unraveling as he picks up the pace.

I meet each movement with a cry, my nails digging into his back as the tension coils again, hotter, tighter, more urgent than before.

“Come with me,” he grits out. “I want to feel you squeeze me when you lose it.”

“I’m close…fuck…I’m…”

Pleasure rips through me again, harder this time, raw and all-consuming. My body clenches around him, pulling him over the edge with me.

He buries himself deep, groaning my name as he fills me.

We collapse in a tangled, sweaty mess, limbs trembling, hearts pounding in sync.

He kisses me through the aftershocks, slow, soft, reverent.

And in that moment, there’s no question. No fear.

Only us.

After a few quiet minutes, Alessio gently pulls away, presses a kiss to my shoulder, and slips out of bed. "Be right back."

Water starts running in the bathroom, a towel drawer shuffles.

He returns with a warm, damp towel and the kind of tenderness in his eyes that makes my throat go tight.

He kneels beside me, cleaning me up with slow, careful movements. Then he disappears again, only to return with a glass of water.

He gives me a crooked smile. "Hydration. I hear it's important after mind-blowing sex."

I take the glass, grinning. "You planning to make it a habit?"

"Oh, you have no idea."

Tangled in sheets and breathless laughter, he rests his hand over my heart.

“I still can’t believe you’re real.”

I run my fingers through his hair, slow and gentle. “Don’t screw it up, then.”

He grins against my skin. “Was that a proposal?”

I smirk. “Don’t push it.”

We’re quiet for a moment, and then he speaks again, softer now.

“When I was a kid, I used to think love was like a trap. Like if you let someone in, they’d see all the broken shit and walk away.”

My fingers still in his hair.

“I used to think love was something people settled for,” I whisper. “My dad… he took my mom for granted. Over and over. And she just kept loving him. Even after he cheated. Even after he made her feel small.”

Alessio’s eyes darken, his jaw ticking, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“I promised myself I’d never be that woman. Never love someone so much that I’d lose myself trying to keep them.”

There’s a pause, thick and weighted.

“But then you came along,” I say quietly. “And it doesn’t feel like losing myself. It feels like… finding something I didn’t know I needed.”

His fingers tighten around mine.

“But you didn’t,” he says, voice rough. “You walked in like you weren’t afraid of my dark corners. Like you weren’t afraid of me.”

My throat tightens. “Because I saw something worth staying for.”

He lifts his head, eyes searching mine. “I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

I blink fast, trying to swallow the lump in my throat.

“God, you’re such a sap.” I kiss his temple.

“Don’t tell Nikolai,” he says seriously. “He still thinks I’m a cold bastard.”

I laugh and curl closer into him. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

We stay like that, wrapped around each other, our bodies warm, hearts finally steady. Like maybe this... could actually last.

But sleep doesn’t come easy.

I lie there with Alessio’s arm slung over my waist, his breathing slow and even, his face tucked into the crook of my neck like he’s never known peace until now.

And yet, my mind won’t shut off.

E’s words echo in my head promising me everything I’ve worked for. Senior partnership, recognition.

A title I’ve chased for years. A seat at the table I clawed my way toward. And now…

I glance at Alessio, so peaceful beside me. And I wonder.

Can I have both?

Can I be the woman at the top and the woman who chooses love?

My chest tightens, the pressure building just beneath my collarbone.

Or will I have to lose one... to keep the other?