Chapter 23
Transcendent
Alexander
“Buona notte, tesoro,” [LXVI]I murmur the moment her face fills my screen. My voice gives me away, showing her all the longing and melancholy I’ve been feeling since she went back home.
“Buongiorno, Alexander,” [LXVII]she answers, smiling like she doesn’t realize she’s undoing me with it.
I don’t speak for a few seconds, just taking her in.
She’s wearing a caramel-colored knit sweater that hugs her the way I wish I could. The high collar brushes the delicate line of her throat. Her hair is gathered into a careless knot at the crown of her head, with a few rebellious strands slipping free.
She looks... perfect. Bellissima.
At moments like this, the phone in my hand stops feeling like a blessing. It starts feeling like a border.
“You look like an angel,” I murmur. “The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
Cecilia exhales, and the image wavers for a second as she sets the phone down. Behind her, I recognize her office bookshelves.
“The things you say...” she whispers. “You make it so much harder for my heart not to ache with missing you.”
“And what if I told you,” I add, my voice dropping, “that when I close my eyes, I remember exactly how you taste? That I miss waking up with you in my arms every morning.”
She closes her eyes. When she opens them again, her voice is barely more than a breath. “Me too. Every day.”
Changing the subject before the longing swallows us whole, I ask about the blog posts she’s publishing this week.
I let her voice fill the empty corners of my room as she gestures, animated, describing layouts, color choices, and the photos she selected.
I love the way her eyes light up when she speaks about things she’s passionate about.
I don’t interrupt and keep listening, focused on the way life seems to glow through her voice.
Morning light pours through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my office at Santoro Marmo’s headquarters in Milan.
I trace a finger along my computer screen, reviewing yield reports from one of the quarries. Calacatta extraction remains consistent, yet the transport route to the port of Livorno has become a choke point, bleeding thousands of euros from the company every week.
Sighing, I run a hand through my hair.
The office door opens without ceremony. I don’t need to look up to know who it is. Only one person walks into my office like that.
“If you keep frowning like this, you’ll need Botox before you’re forty-three,” Cesare says, closing the door behind him as he drops into the chair across from my desk.
“And if you ever learned to knock,” I reply without lifting my eyes from the screen, “I might start believing you actually work here.”
Cesare chuckles and tosses a blue folder onto my desk. As Director of International Operations, he’s my right hand and, more inconveniently, the one man on the payroll who knows me too well.
“Dubai is set,” he says, crossing one leg over the other as he adjusts the lapel of his suit. “The jet’s cleared for takeoff in two days. The preliminary contracts with the hotel group are in that folder. They want exclusivity on the lot we discussed for the resort, just as we anticipated.”
I pick up the folder and scan the pages. “Exclusivity has a price, Cesare. Make sure they understand that.”
“They do,” he replies easily, flashing a satisfied grin. “That’s why they’re paying almost double what the others offered. But prepare yourself. They’ve scheduled dinners, inspections, negotiations… They want every detail walked through with the CEO himself before they sign anything.”
I close the folder. Deals in the Middle East are never rushed. By now, I’m more than used to the whole routine.
“Good. Then we’ll give them exactly what they want.”
Cesare stops talking for a moment, studying me with the same analytical intensity he usually saves for hard negotiations. “How are things in New York? With Cecilia?”
I exhale, tipping back in my chair and rolling the pen between my fingers. “They’re good,’ I say. ‘We talk every day. Sometimes twice, whenever the time difference allows it.”
“And the distance?”
“It’s harder every day,” I admit, without trying to dress it up for him. “Sometimes, when I end a call, the penthouse feels too large, too empty.”
He nods, his usual teasing expression changing into something more serious. “But you’re not giving up, are you? The distance, her past, and everything that stands in the way.”
“Never,” I cut in. “If anything, I’m using this time. Preparing for what comes next.”
My gaze moves to the discreet photograph on my desk, not visible from his side, meant only for me.
In it, Cecilia is laughing on the terrace in Arienzo, her white dress brushing her thighs, her hair tangled and glowing in the sunlight, after I asked her to smile like she truly liked the man behind the camera.
She smiled in a way I had never seen before.
“Cecilia wants a future with me too,” I continue.
“She’s made that much clear. But I won’t rush her.
I need to show her, to prove to her, that this isn’t some illusion.
I need her to see that her life there and mine here can meet in the middle.
And more than anything...” I glance back at the photo.
“I want to be worthy of the trust she’s giving me. ”
Cesare smiles. “Then let’s close this deal in Dubai,” he says, pushing himself to his feet.
He pats my shoulder before leaving my office, while I keep staring at Cecilia’s photo with a smile on my face.
November
Cecily
“Wow, this is really good. Almost as good as an orgasm,” Felicity declares with her mouth full, making me choke on my coffee.
She bursts into laughter, and I shoot her a look, resisting the urge to roll my eyes.
I’d brought Alicia along to visit Hazel, Aurora, and Nicolás, and used the excuse to drop off the souvenirs I brought back, along with a batch of the cookies Nonna had taught me how to make. And she hadn’t lied. Everyone falls in love with biscotti al limone on the first bite.
“But seriously,” Felicity adds, chewing thoughtfully, “they literally melt in your mouth.”
I smile. “They’re Alexander’s favorite. His grandmother taught me how to make them.”
“Aww, look at you,” she teases. “All mushy and dreamy just from saying his name.”
I shake my head, laughing. “You’re going to turn everything I say into teasing, aren’t you?”
She scoffs, thoroughly unimpressed. “You never tell me anything! You’ve been back for a week, and every time we talk on the phone, you dodge the subject.”
I take another sip of coffee to buy myself a few seconds. “I did tell you. I just didn’t give you the scandalous details you were fishing for. And I’m not going to.”
She grins. “Please. I don’t even need them. One look at you in person and I already know everything I need to know.” She gestures at my face. “You’re glowing, Ceci. And that only means one thing—the Italian stallion worked his magic and turned your world upside down.”
I avert my gaze and take a long sip of my coffee.
“I knew it!” she squeals, springing up from the rug by the coffee table and collapsing onto the couch beside me. “With all due respect, my dear friend, that man radiates BDE. I knew he was going to take very... very good care of you.”
I laugh. “Yes, Felicity. You’re right. It was... incredible.”
But even as the word leaves my lips, it feels too small for everything Alexander made me feel—the way my body responded to his, the way his seemed to answer mine so naturally it was almost frightening.
“Incredible doesn’t even begin to cover it,” I admit.
“I’ve never felt anything like that. Never.
I had a good sex life when I was married.
Sometimes even great.” I hesitate, searching for words honest enough to say what’s on my mind.
“But nothing even comes close to what happened with Alexander. There’s no comparison. ”
Felicity doesn’t tease this time. She just watches me, eyes intent, waiting.
“It was... all-consuming,” I whisper, a breathless laugh giving me away.
“I don’t even know how to put it into words.
One second, I was drowning in doubt, wondering if I could really do this, if I should.
And the next...” I shake my head. “The moment he touched me, there was no fear or hesitation, everything disappeared.”
I swallow.
“There was only him. The way my body reacted... as if it already knew him before my mind ever caught up—like...”
With a quiet huff, I set my mug on the table. “God,” I groan, tying my hair into a loose ponytail. “I work with words. And the one time I need them, they abandon me.”
“As if you’d been waiting your whole life for that moment,” Felicity finishes gently.
I turn toward her, and the understanding in her eyes makes my throat tighten and my lips curve into a grateful smile.
“As if your body and his were always in sync,” she continues. “Without instructions or effort. Just a touch you recognize as yours. Two bodies finding a connection that only exists for the two of you.”
“Yes,” I whisper. “That’s exactly what it was.”
Unable to hold back, I ask, “Is it like that for you and Oliver?”
She smiles and nods. “Yes and no. The connection was always there, but different. You already know how our beginning was. For a while, it was more physical. After the divorce, it became something deeper… fuller.” She exhales.
“The only word that comes close is transcendent. Sometimes it feels almost... like an out-of-body experience.”
“Transcendent,” I repeat with a smile.
Felicity shakes her head, as if snapping out of a trance, and squeezes my hand. “For a second there, I felt like you were describing what it’s like to lose your virginity all over again.”
“Ugh. It was going so well until you decided to make it weird,” I groan.
She laughs loudly and reaches for cookies again. “No need to thank me for my little pre-trip gift,” she adds with a wink.