111

111
Rosa’s POV
I wasn’t used to being caught off guard. In my world, surprises were rarely pleasant, and trust was a luxury most couldn’t afford. It was safer to anticipate every move, to read between the lines before anyone had a chance to strike.
But then there was Allesio.
It had been a long week. Meetings, negotiations, and the endless balancing act of keeping both my family’s interests and my sanity intact. I’d barely had time to breathe, let alone think about anything else. So when Allesio showed up this evening, his expression unreadable, I braced myself.
“What’s with the look?” I asked, leaning against the doorway of the sitting room.
He smirked, hands tucked casually into his pockets. “What look?”
“That look,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “The one that says you’re up to something.”
He chuckled, the sound warm and easy. “Maybe I am.”
I crossed my arms, waiting. “Out with it.”
Instead of answering, he pulled something from behind his back-a small, weathered book. At first glance, it didn’t seem like much, but as he stepped closer and handed it to me, my breath caught in my throat.
I recognized it immediately.
It was an old journal, the kind I’d used as a teenager to jot down ideas, sketches, and half-formed dreams that I never dared to share with anyone. I hadn’t seen it in years, not since it had been packed away during one of our moves.
“Where did you find this?” I asked, my voice quieter than I intended.
“I have my ways,” he said, watching me carefully. “Thought you might like to have it back.”
I traced my fingers over the worn leather cover, memories flooding back. For a moment, I didn’t know what to say.
“Thank you,” I said finally, looking up at him.
His smirk softened into something more genuine. “You’re welcome.”
I sat on the couch flipping through the pages, I couldn’t help but steal glances at Allesio. He was seated across from me, pretending to scroll through his phone, but I knew he was watching me.
“You went through my things,” I said, breaking the silence.
He looked up, his expression innocent. “Not really. Just saw the journal and figured it might mean something to you.”
I raised an eyebrow. “And how would you know that?”
“I’m observant,” he said simply.
It was a vague answer, but I let it slide. Truth be told, I didn’t mind that he’d found it. The gesture felt… thoughtful. Almost too thoughtful.
“Why do you care?” I asked, the words slipping out before I could stop them.
He leaned back in his chair, studying me. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Most people don’t,” I said, shrugging.
“Well, I’m not most people,” he replied, his tone light but his gaze steady. “I’ve told you that in the countless times we’ve been over this.”
I didn’t know what to make of him sometimes. He could be infuriating, charming, and disarmingly sincere all at once. It was… unsettling.
“You’re good with sketched anyways,” he added, gesturing to the open page on the journal which he was looking at.
“I loved sketching while growing up,” I explained, Patti g the side next to me and he scooted over, resting a head on my shoulder. I stiffened, but then forced myself to relax. “This one’s interesting,” he said, holding up a page with a rough sketch of a small cafe.
“It’s a place I used to go to,” I explained. “Back when we lived in Florence. It was quiet, out of the way. I used to sit there for hours with a cappuccino and just… think.”
“Sounds nice,” he said, and for once, he didn’t sound like he was humoring me.
“It was,” I admitted. “I haven’t been back in years.”
“You should go,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “Take a day for yourself. No meetings, no family business. Just you.”
I laughed softly. “You make it sound so easy.”
“Maybe it could be,” he said, his voice quieter now. “If you let it.”
The way he looked at me then-like he actually meant it-made my chest tighten. I wasn’t used to people seeing me like that.
He leaned closer to me, kissing the side of my cheeks and getting up. “I have to leave,” he murmured. “Work and all that shit.”
“Okay,” I answered him, nodding my head as he got up and walked out of the door without a glance backwards. I sat alone with the journal, flipping through the pages again. Memories surfaced with each sketch and scribbled note, pulling me back to a time when life felt less heavy.
I thought about Allesio and the way he’d handed it to me, like it was the most natural thing in the world. It wasn’t just the gesture itself-it was the way he made me feel seen.
But that was dangerous, wasn’t it?
He was dangerous.
I didn’t trust easily, and I certainly didn’t trust him-not completely. There was always an angle, always a game being played, especially in my world. And yet, he’d done something no one else had in a long time. He’d made me feel… something.
I hated how much I liked it.
I was lingering in the hallway mead the sitting room, hoping I could run into Allesio before he headed out for work this morning. It was ridiculous, really. I wasn’t some lovesick teenager, pining for attention.
But when he finally appeared, his hair slightly messy and his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, I felt my heart skip a beat.
“Morning,” he said, his voice low and warm.
“Morning,” I replied, trying to sound nonchalant.
He leaned against the doorframe, his eyes flicking to the journal I was holding. “Still reading?”
“Maybe,” I said, lifting my chin slightly. “Why? Got another surprise for me?”
“Not today,” he said, his smirk returning. “But who knows? Maybe tomorrow.”
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips.
“Don’t push your luck,” I said, brushing past him.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he called after me, his tone teasing.