Giovanni Moretti
Alessia's eyes were open, unfocused but determined. My heart leapt, relief and concern warring within me. She looked so fragile, yet that spark of defiance was unmistakable.
"Water," she rasped, her throat clearly parched.
I reached for the glass Chef had brought earlier, gently supporting her as she tried to sit up. Her skin was cool beneath my touch, and I could feel the slight tremor in her muscles from the exertion.
As I helped her take a sip, I was overwhelmed by a surge of protectiveness. This woman, who had stormed into my life and upended everything, now seemed so vulnerable. And yet, even now, she was already thinking about fighting back.
I couldn't help myself. I leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. My lips barely grazed her skin as I whispered,
