Alessia Mancini
The kitchen felt too quiet as I slid back into my chair beside Giovanni. The only sounds were the low hum of the refrigerator and the ticking of the antique clock on the wall. Even Chef had retired for the night, leaving dirty mugs and plates scattered across the marble countertop as evidence of our impromptu late-night gathering.
I let out a deep sigh, allowing some of the tension to leave my body as Giovanni's arm encircled my waist. The warmth of his touch was grounding, anchoring me in the midst of the chaos swirling through my mind.
"Riley's asleep," I murmured, my voice sounding strained even to my own ears. "She's crashing hard from the adrenaline."
Giovanni nodded, his dark eyes searching my face. I could feel the weight of his gaze, assessing my state of mind.
