Alessia Mancini
The warmth of Giovanni's hand on the small of my back sent shivers up my spine as we made our way to the kitchen. The gentle pressure felt both possessive and protective, a reminder of our new arrangement that left me feeling dizzy with anticipation and nervousness.
As we entered, the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloped us, mingling with the sweet scent of pastries. Chef Lorenzo stood at the gleaming marble counter, his silver hair neatly combed and his crisp white uniform spotless. His weathered face broke into a warm smile as he saw us approach.
"Ah, Signorina Alessia, Signor Giovanni," he greeted, his voice as comforting as a warm blanket. "I've prepared a selection of mini cakes to accompany your coffee. Perhaps a moment of sweetness to balance the day's
