OPHELIA
I woke up warm.
That should've been my first warning sign.
The second was seeing why I was warm.
Alessandre's arm was draped casually around my waist, his chest to my back, his breathing slow and even as if he were meant to be there.
It wasn't the same tense, agitated man from last night. This was… softer, which was much more dangerous.
I told myself I'd move after like one minute. Two, maybe.
And that's when the door opened.
“Ophelia, we’ve got a—” Charlotte’s voice froze midway through her usual morning speech.
I turned my head just enough to see her in the doorway, holding a cup of coffee in one hand, her phone in the other, staring like she’d just walked into a soap opera.
“Oh,” she said flatly. “Well. This explains everything.”
I sat up a little, tugging the sheet
