Alessia Mancini
The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee pulled me from my restless sleep, enticing me down to the kitchen. As I entered, the sizzle of bacon and warm glow of morning sunlight streaming through tall windows created an almost homey atmosphere. Almost.
Giovanni was already there, impeccably dressed in a crisp white shirt and tailored slacks, reading a newspaper at the marble island. His eyes flicked up, dark and unreadable as they swept over me.
"Buongiorno, Alessia," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent an involuntary shiver down my spine.
Before I could respond, Chef Lorenzo's kind face appeared from behind a gleaming stainless steel refrigerator. "Ah, good morning, signorina! How do you take your coffee?"
"Black, please," I replied, sinking onto a stool and tr
