Kiss ?
1667 Words
Aurora’s breath caught sharply.
Before she could step away—
Alessandro’s hand closed around her waist.
Firm.
Possessive.
Warm even through the thin fabric of her clothes.
Aurora froze instantly.
Every nerve in her body screamed in confusion.
No one had ever touched her gently before.
Not without cruelty following immediately after.
But Alessandro didn’t hurt her.
He simply pulled her slightly closer until only inches remained between them.
Aurora’s pulse became unbearably loud.
She could smell cedarwood and rain on him.
Could see the faint scar near his jaw now.
Could feel the terrifying steadiness in the hand resting against her waist while her own body trembled uncontrollably.
His gray eyes studied her face carefully.
Like he was searching for something hidden beneath the fear.
"Why are you shaking?" he asked quietly.
Aurora lowered her gaze immediately. "I-I’m not—"
"Lie again," he murmured, "and I’ll make you look at me while doing it."
Her breath faltered.
There was no anger in his voice.
That somehow made it worse.
Aurora slowly lifted her eyes toward his.
Big mistake.
Because the second she did—
she felt trapped.
Not physically.
Something far more dangerous.
Seen.
Alessandro’s thumb brushed lightly against the side of her waist.
A tiny movement.
But enough to make Aurora’s heart stutter violently.
"You’re terrified someone will take this away from you," he said softly.
Aurora blinked in shock.
"The room. The safety. The food. You think kindness is temporary."
The words hit too close.
Far too close.
Aurora immediately looked away again.
Because if she didn’t—
she might cry.
And she refused to cry in front of him.
A long silence stretched between them.
Then unexpectedly—
Alessandro lifted his free hand.
Aurora tensed instinctively.
Flinching before she could stop herself.
The movement lasted less than a second.
But Alessandro noticed.
Of course he noticed.
Something dark flickered across his expression.
Cold.
Dangerous.
Not directed at her.
At someone else.
Slowly—
almost carefully—
he brushed a loose strand of hair away from her face.
Then lowered his head slightly.
Aurora stopped breathing completely when his lips touched her forehead.
A kiss.
Soft.
Brief.
But devastating.
No mockery.
No force.
No cruelty.
Just warmth.
Aurora’s mind went completely blank.
Alessandro pulled back just enough to look at her again.
And for the first time since arriving—
Aurora noticed something terrifying.
He wasn’t pretending.
This wasn’t some performance for the servants.
This man truly believed she belonged here now.
Belonged to him.
"Rest tonight," he said quietly.
Aurora could barely think straight.
"Tomorrow… things will change."
Change.
The word filled her with dread.
Because nothing good had ever come from change before.
Alessandro released her waist slowly.
But his fingers lingered for one extra second.
Like he enjoyed the feeling of holding her.
Then he turned toward the hallway.
"Maria will help you settle in."
Aurora remained frozen exactly where she stood as he walked away.
The servants immediately lowered their heads the moment he passed.
Fear.
Respect.
Obedience.
Everyone in this house feared Alessandro Moretti.
So why—
why had he kissed her so gently?
Aurora pressed trembling fingers against her forehead after he disappeared down the corridor.
Her chest hurt strangely.
Confusion twisted violently inside her thoughts.
What does he want from me?
Not love.
Men like Alessandro Moretti didn’t love.
They possessed.
Controlled.
Destroyed.
So why protect her?
Why look at her like she was something precious instead of broken?
Aurora suddenly remembered the way Vivienne used to smile before doing something cruel.
And fear crawled up her spine immediately.
Maybe this was worse.
Maybe kindness from dangerous men was far more terrifying than hatred.
Because hatred was predictable.
Kindness made you hope.
And hope—
hope destroyed people like her.
Far down the hallway, Alessandro paused near the staircase without turning back.
One of his guards stepped forward cautiously.
"Sir… should we increase security around the east wing?"
Alessandro’s eyes darkened slightly.
"Yes."
The guard hesitated.
"Do you truly think they’ll come after her?"
A long silence followed.
Then Alessandro looked toward the rain-covered windows.
Cold fury settled across his face.
"They already are."
At that exact moment—
inside Aurora’s old bedroom at the Sinclair estate—
Seraphina Sinclair smashed a wine glass against the wall violently.
Her breathing shook with rage.
"That should’ve been ME."
Vivienne stood near the fireplace, expression unusually tense.
Because minutes ago—
they had received a phone call.
Not from Alessandro.
From someone else.
Someone powerful enough to make even Vivienne Sinclair nervous.
The voice on the phone had spoken only one sentence before hanging up.
"You made a very dangerous mistake giving Aurora Sinclair to Alessandro Moretti."
And now—
for the first time in years—
Vivienne looked afraid.
The east guest room was larger than the entire attic Aurora had lived in at the Sinclair estate.
She stood silently near the doorway, afraid to step too far inside—as if touching anything might ruin it.
Soft golden lights glowed against cream-colored walls.
A fireplace crackled quietly.
Fresh clothes had already been laid across the enormous bed along with toiletries, slippers, and folded towels that smelled faintly of lavender.
Aurora stared at everything numbly.
All this…
for her?
"Miss Aurora?"
Aurora flinched softly.
The older woman—Maria—offered her a gentle expression. "Would you like me to prepare a bath?"
Aurora immediately shook her head. "No, I can do it myself."
Maria’s face softened strangely at the response.
Like she already understood what kind of life Aurora came from.
"Very well," she said kindly. "Dinner will be brought shortly."
Dinner.
Aurora’s stomach twisted anxiously.
"I-Is Mr. Moretti expecting me to eat with him?"
Maria looked surprised.
"No, miss. The master usually eats alone."
Something about that answer felt unexpectedly lonely.
Aurora quickly pushed the thought away.
Why would she care whether Alessandro Moretti felt lonely?
The man terrified her.
Maria moved toward the door before pausing.
"Miss Aurora…"
Aurora looked up hesitantly.
"You don’t need to ask permission to eat here."
The words hit harder than they should have.
Aurora lowered her gaze immediately. "…Thank you."
After Maria left, silence consumed the room.
Aurora stood motionless for several seconds before slowly walking toward the mirror beside the wardrobe.
She barely recognized herself.
Messy hair.
Oversized clothes.
Exhausted eyes still swollen from crying.
And yet—
Alessandro Moretti had looked at her like she mattered.
Why?
It made no sense.
Nothing about tonight made sense.
Aurora carefully touched her forehead again where he had kissed her.
Her heart immediately began beating too fast.
No.
No, she couldn’t let herself think like this.
Men like Alessandro were dangerous.
Kindness from powerful people always came with conditions.
Always.
Aurora knew that better than anyone.
A knock interrupted her thoughts.
She stiffened instantly.
"Come in," she whispered.
A maid entered carrying a silver tray filled with food.
Real food.
Warm bread.
Soup.
Pasta.
Strawberries dipped in chocolate.
Aurora stared at the tray in disbelief.
At the Sinclair estate, leftovers were considered generous treatment for her.
The maid carefully placed everything on the table. "If you need anything, ring the bell beside the bed."
Aurora nodded awkwardly.
The maid hesitated before quietly saying,
"The master gave strict orders that you’re not to be disturbed."
Aurora’s chest tightened strangely again.
After the maid left, Aurora sat cautiously at the table.
For several seconds, she simply stared at the food.
Then slowly—
she reached for the bread.
Her hands trembled slightly.
No one had ever cared whether she ate enough before.
Not once.
A sudden ache formed in her throat.
Aurora quickly looked away before tears could fall.
---
Meanwhile—
on the other side of the mansion—
Alessandro stood inside his office while rain slammed violently against the windows again.
The atmosphere in the room felt lethal.
Four men stood before his desk, visibly tense.
One of them finally spoke carefully.
"We investigated the Sinclair household like you requested."
Alessandro remained silent.
The man swallowed hard before continuing.
"Most of the servants confirmed the abuse. The girl was treated more like unpaid labor than family."
A dangerous silence followed.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
Another man placed a thick file across Alessandro’s desk.
"There’s more."
Alessandro opened it slowly.
Photographs.
Medical reports.
Hospital records hidden under fake names.
Bruises.
Malnutrition.
A fractured wrist from two years ago.
His jaw tightened slightly.
Then he saw the final photograph.
Aurora.
Collapsed unconscious beside the mansion garden during winter.
Snow covering her thin body.
No coat.
No shoes.
The report underneath read:
Severe hypothermia. Family delayed treatment for six hours.
Something in Alessandro’s expression changed completely.
Not rage.
Rage was loud.
This was worse.
Cold.
Controlled.
Murderously calm.
One of the guards shifted nervously. "Sir…"
Alessandro closed the file carefully.
Too carefully.
"Did Richard Sinclair know?"
Silence.
Then—
"Yes."
The crystal glass in Alessandro’s hand shattered instantly.
Blood dripped slowly from his palm onto the desk.
But he didn’t seem to notice.
"Interesting," he said softly.
The men exchanged uneasy glances.
Because Alessandro Moretti only sounded that calm when someone was about to disappear.
Then suddenly—
another voice echoed from the office doorway.
"You brought her here too early."
Everyone turned immediately.
A tall man stepped into the room wearing black gloves and a dark coat, his expression unreadable.
But Alessandro’s eyes narrowed dangerously the second he appeared.
"You weren’t invited, Dante."
Dante gave a faint smile.
"And yet here I am."
His gaze drifted toward the file on the desk.
Then toward the hallway leading to the east wing.
Toward Aurora’s room.
When Dante spoke again—
his voice carried something deeply unsettling.
"Does she know yet?"
Alessandro’s expression turned ice-cold.
"Know what?"
Dante’s smile widened slightly.
And the next words shattered the silence like a gunshot.
"That Aurora Sinclair was never supposed to survive the fire that killed her mother."
To be continued 🔚
- Writer
