Alessia Mancini
The next morning, I awoke tangled in silken sheets, the scent of Giovanni's cologne lingering on the pillow beside me. His side of the bed was cold, an unexpected absence that sent a shiver of unease down my spine. Soft sunlight filtered through the gauzy curtains, painting patterns across the luxurious bedroom.
I rolled out of bed, my bare feet sinking into plush carpet. As I dressed, choosing a form-fitting black dress that hugged my curves, my mind raced with possibilities. Where had Giovanni gone so early? Was it related to our plans for Vitale?
The quiet of the villa felt oppressive as I made my way downstairs, my heels clicking a staccato rhythm on the marble floors. The familiar aroma of Chef Lorenzo's cooking wafted from the kitchen, along with the low murmur of
