To Be Loved By The Billionaire

Chapter 4

"Alessandro, buongiorno”

"Luca, mi dispiace disturbarti," Alessandro's voice crackled through the line, laden with an uncharacteristic vulnerability. My concern deepened as I detected the strain in his voice.

Alesssandro, my cousin had decided to take up the early hours of my morning by his video call, an act that was unusual for him, considering he was aware that my Saturday morning was for the gym.

My brows furrowed slightly, “Nessun problema. Cosa succede?" I replied in a warm tone, yet tinged with subtle authority borne out of my Italian heritage. I was older than him by three years, and growing up, I was aware he adored me, reason I favored him.

Finally, he spoke, his words measured. "It's Martina. We... we've hit a rough patch. She says I'm distant, that I don't understand her anymore."

I listened in silence, my gaze fixed on the view of Milan and skyline visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The radiant city and bustling streets seemed a world away from the personal turmoil that my cousin was facing. His troubles were a complete contrast to the polished outlook of my own life, a reminder of the weakness that even success could not shield him from.

"But Luca, Martina is different. She has been with me through thick and thin," Alessandro pleaded, his voice tinged with desperation. His desperation was apparent, by his downcast eyes and weary expression. My face remained impassive, betraying none of the turmoil within. My belief in pragmatism and ambition had shaped my worldview, shielding me from the entanglements of emotion. Yet, the bond with my cousin, forged in the shared heritage and trials of our upbringing, compelled me to offer guidance.

"Listen, Alessandro," I began, my tone firm yet empathetic. "Relationships require effort, understanding, and compromise. If Martina means so much to you, you must find a way to bridge the divide." My thoughtfully selected words revealing the personal wisdom I had acquired through introspection, independent of any family influence or prior experiences.

Alessandro's voice softened, gratitude evident in his response. "Grazie, Luca. Your words... they mean a lot."

There was a pause as Alessandro seemed to collect himself. "I just don't know how to start."

"Sometimes, it's the small gestures that matter most. Listen to her, really Iisten. Understand her perspective, and show her that you care." On a gentler tone, I added. "And remember, actions speak louder than words."

"You're right, I will try. Thanks for your help” he said, a hint of resolve emerging in his voice.

"Anytime, Alessandro. Remember, you are not alone," I reassured.

As the call ended, my thoughts lingered on Alessandro's plight. The complexities of love and its entrapments had always eluded me, buried beneath the layers of ambition that had propelled me to the pinnacle of success. My mind briefly wandered to the recent gala I had attended, where I had been introduced and accompanied by a beautiful and intriguing woman—Madeleine. She had been pleasant company, but I had remained distant. Relationships, I had long concluded, were not for me. Having mistresses to soothe my manly needs, but those were fleeting, devoid of the emotional complexities that Alessandro was struggling with.

I strode purposefully into my private home gym. The sheen on my skin illuminated by the amber glow of sunrise, made my olive skin appear to glow. At 6’2” with an athletic build, I was considered tall and attractive. I was dressed in sleek athletic wear that held my form.

I took a moment to absorb the calm ambiance of the space, then proceeded to place my phone on a bench before diving into my workout routine. I began with a series of dynamic stretches, my movements fluid and controlled, a ritual that served as a bridge between the demands of my professional life and the dedication to my personal health. The soft hum of the air conditioning provided a soothing setting to the steady rhythm of my breath as I warmed up my muscles. My systematic stretches, each movement precise and deliberate. After completing my stretches, I moved to the treadmill. I adjusted the incline to a challenging setting, and began jogging, my thoughts shifting to the upcoming week's business engagements. The merger negotiation with a rival company was high-stakes, and the board meeting would require great strategy.

"Focus, Luca," I muttered to myself, my voice steady despite the increasing intensity of my workout. "One step at a time." I could feel the steady beat of my heart.

I pushed myself, my body glistening with a sheen of sweat, my muscles contracting. The digital display on the treadmill flashed with my progress, but I was not just measuring distance; I was challenging my limits. My gaze fell on the mirrored wall, hazel eyes stared back at me, my angled face set in a mean demeanor, and my skin which was bronzed and taut from hours spent under the sun and in the gym, glistened with perspiration. I proceeded to lift dumbbells that would challenge most athletes. Each lift was executed with precise, controlled movements, a testament to my strength and dedication. Amidst the hum of the air conditioning, I found a profound comfort in my relentless pursuit of physical perfection.

I transitioned to a series of squats. Despite the focus required for the exercise, my thoughts kept drifting back to Alessandro. I recalled our shared childhood memories, the laughter, and the familial bond that had always been a source of strength. Alessandro's recent troubles was a reminder of the emotional landscapes that I had chosen to avoid. Alessandro was a man who thrived on control and discipline, yet his plight seemed to pierce through his carefully constructed shell of emotional detachment. A small part of me wondered whether my relentless pursuit of perfection had come at a cost. Was there a place in my life for the kind of emotional engagement that Alessandro was struggling to navigate?

I completed my session, and felt a surge of accomplishment and vitality wash over me. I grabbed my white towel and wiped the sweat from my brow, savoring the endorphin-fueled euphoria that often followed a rigorous workout. I reached for a bottle of water infused with electrolytes, unscrewed the cap, and took a long, satisfying drink. The cool, crisp liquid was a welcome relief, and the familiar scent of citrus and mint greeted me as I raised the bottle to my lips. I drank deeply, and allowed myself a moment of relaxation, enjoying the fleeting sense of peace that followed intense physical exertion.

The remainder of the day stretched before me, I decided I would engage in some work to avoid stray thoughts. Feeling a renewed sense of purpose, I strode confidently, headed towards a late breakfast.