Alessia Mancini
I settled back into my seat, the leather cool against my skin. Giovanni's presence beside me was a constant, thrumming energy. Across the kitchen, Riley's hands moved with surprising grace as she folded delicate pockets of pasta under Chef's watchful eye. The rich, earthy scent of fresh herbs and simmering sauce filled the air.
Nico leaned against the counter, his posture deceptively casual. "So," he drawled, "when do we put the plan into action, boss, boss?" His eyes flicked between Giovanni and me, a hint of amusement in his voice at the dual title.
I took a deep breath, tasting the tension on my tongue. "I'll make the call tomorrow," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "We'll set it up for the day after. That gives us time to get everything... organised." The word
