Chapter 25
Amore
Cecily
I look at the bouquet on my desk and smile.
Since last week, since Alexander sent the first one, three more have followed. Always the same flowers.
I have them scattered all over now. There’s one in my bedroom, another in the living room, and even one sitting on the kitchen island. But it’s this one, right here in front of me... the one I catch myself looking at every time my mind drifts—which has been happening a lot.
“Wow,” Mark says from the doorway. “If you look any more starry-eyed than that, I’m going to need sunglasses.”
I turn to find him leaning against the frame, one brow lifted in mock accusation.
“I didn’t hear you come in,” I murmur, pushing my chair back as I stand to hug him.
He pulls me into a hug and kisses my cheek. “Of course you didn’t. At this point, I’m not entirely convinced you even hear the noise from the workers in the house across the street. You’re officially living on the moon—or should I say... in Alexander Santoro’s orbit.”
“Maybe both,” I say, nudging him before sinking back into my chair.
My thoughts drift right back to where they’ve stayed all day: with him.
In a few hours, Alexander will finally be on his way back to Pisa, after the delays in Dubai. Maybe in two more weeks, we’ll see each other again. And somehow, two weeks feels endless after these weeks apart. When just last month we spent our days tangled together from sunrise to sunset.
Lately, time hasn’t been moving as quickly as I wish it would.
Mark sits across from me, and I study him. He looks better than he did before I left for Europe... but he’s not back to his old self. Even if he manages to hide it.
“I’m waiting, Mark,” I say.
He doesn’t dodge it or deflect. He meets my eyes and says, “I gave it more importance than I should have. I’ve put it behind me.”
“Then why don’t I see that same light in your eyes anymore?”
He leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “I just haven’t found my perfect match like you did. But I’ll be getting under someone—on top too—until that happens.”
I narrow my eyes at him.
“And what does your therapist think about you deflecting everything and always carrying your burdens alone?”
Mark lets out a laugh. “That I’m a lost cause, obviously. He doesn’t say it out loud, but I can see it written all over his face. Besides, it’s been months since my last session.”
I reach for his hand and hold it. “Maybe it’s time to go back. Only I know how much therapy helped me this year. And the kids too.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he says, brushing it off with a wave of his hand. “Now show me what changes you want to make to the blog layout.”
Once again, I let him change the subject.
I won’t push. But I won’t stop wanting him whole again, either... not when the hurt remains so visible in his eyes.
The second the line connects, I don’t wait. “How was arriving in Pisa today?”
Alexander chuckles on the other end. I press the phone closer to my ear, greedily holding onto the sound of him, wishing he was here beside me.
“And your day, Cecilia?” he asks. He always asks about me first. Wanting to know the smallest details.
When I finish telling him everything, his voice softens.
“Did you miss me today too?”
“Always,” I whisper. “But I know you’ll be with your family these days and—”
“I’m asking about you, Cecilia. Did you miss me today?”
“I miss you every day,” I say, my voice full of longing. “I miss your scent. Your body. Your voice in my ear when I wake up. Even the way only you know how to make my coffee... without me ever having to explain it, because it’s the same way you drink it too.”
My eyes go to the canvas. “I miss doing nothing with you. Just being together... your arms around me.”
He doesn’t say anything for a second.
“That’s an easy fix,” he says. “We can make it happen in less than half an hour.”
“Since when did you change careers and go into teleportation?”
“I’m in your city, tesoro. No teleportation necessary.”
My heart stutters, losing its rhythm. “You’re here?” I whisper. “No... how? Why? When?”
“I know I promised I would wait for your call... wait for you to ask me to come. But I couldn’t make myself go back to Pisa.
I wouldn’t have lasted at the villa, in my penthouse in Milan, not even at the office.
.. every room, every window would have led me back to you.
So I came. Hoping I could see you, and we could finally finish that conversation face to face. ”
“Oh my God...” I gasp. “You’re really here.”
I’m already moving before the words have fully left my mouth, slipping my shoes on, grabbing my coat, throwing it over the light peach sweater dress I’m wearing.
“You still live at the same address here, right?”
“Yes,” he says, “but I can meet you anywhere you want.”
“No, stay there. I’m coming to you.”
“Cecilia, you sound nervous. I don’t know if you should be driving. I can come get you.”
I laugh as I hurry down the stairs, almost missing steps, my heart racing ahead of me. “I swear I’m not nervous. I’m just happy. I’ll drive carefully. Stay there—let me be the one who comes to you this time.”
I stop in front of the mirror by the door, smoothing my hair back with trembling fingers. And when I see the woman with shining eyes smiling back at me in the glass... my smile only grows.
The elevator climbs with excruciating slowness. When the chime finally announces the top floor, the steel doors glide open and, for one suspended moment, everything else falls away.
Alexander stands in the center of the living room, motionless.
He is wearing black trousers and a white shirt that hangs open at the collar, the first few buttons unfastened, revealing the tanned bronze of his chest; his sleeves are pushed up to his elbows. Dark hair falls into his eyes, undone by restless hands that have passed through it.
For a heartbeat, neither of us moves, as if waiting to see which of us will break first.
And then, at the same time, we break. I run to him. He opens his arms.
“Alexander.”
His embrace closes around me with possessive tenderness, one arm locking around my waist, the other sliding up to my neck, fingers sinking into my hair as he buries his face in the curve of my throat. I feel his breath there, trembling with relief.
“Dio mio, Cecilia...” he says, his voice undone as his lips find my skin. “I missed you so much. It felt like I forgot how to breathe these past three weeks.”
We pull back and our eyes meet. I don’t know which of us moves first, but our mouths crash together in a hungry kiss full of longing.
My hands fumble with the last buttons of his shirt as he slips my coat from my shoulders, letting it fall at our feet. We leave a trail of clothes and shoes in our wake, stumbling blindly, hips bumping into furniture, laughing through breathless sounds.
We barely graze the couch before collapsing onto the thick rug. At the last second, he twists to cushion the fall, taking the impact as he lands beneath me, and we end up laughing into each other’s mouths.
I’m straddling him, wearing only my bra and panties, grinding down on him, pleasure sparking as I feel the hard length of him pressing through the thin layers of our underwear.
I roll my hips, dragging a rough, guttural sound from his throat. My hands slide over his chest until he tangles his fingers into the hair at the back of my neck and drags me down to him.
“Sei mia,” [LXXI]he whispers, and his kiss deepens with an intensity that makes my head spin.
Moving like a man who already owns me, he reverses our positions, covering my body with his. Alexander kisses my jaw, trailing down my neck, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses against my skin before biting down on the pulse point as if staking his claim.
His mouth finds my breasts, capturing one nipple, sucking hard through the thin lace of my bra, using the rough fabric to tease my skin. A whimper slips past my lips when he bites down, pushing me to the edge. He strips the bra off me in a quick motion, and his mouth returns to my nipple.
I arch my back, feeling his tongue work over the sensitive peak. I slip my fingers into his hair, tugging him closer, and he sucks harder, pulling a loud moan from my throat.
He releases my nipple with a wet, filthy sound, looking up at me with a look that sends a shiver racing through my entire body. With barely contained impatience, he strips my panties away, then lowers his head, locking his dark eyes on mine.
“Alexander...” I groan, but the sound is cut off the moment his hot tongue touches my center.
He explores every inch, licking me from bottom to top in one long swipe before latching onto my clit with a pressure that is both delicious and painful.
Then two fingers slide deep inside me, moving in perfect rhythm with a tongue that knows exactly what to do.
My hips buck, begging for more, until the climax crashes through me.
My back arches off the rug, and my muscles clamp down tight around his fingers.
I scream his name as wave after wave of pleasure shakes me to my core.
When I finally catch my breath, he lifts his face. His lips are wet, and his amber eyes are dark with possessive heat.
“You taste like my ruin, cazzo,” he growls.
Alexander slides up my body and cups my face in his hands, his thumb swiping over my chin. “What do you want, amore[LXXII]? Tell me,” he asks, his voice rough with desire.
My hand seeks his beard, cupping his face, as if I need to burn every feature into my memory.
“You. Always you,” I say, holding his gaze.
He turns his head, glancing around as if looking for something. I pull him back to me.
“I want you... inside... me. Just you, with nothing between us.”
A rough growl tears from his throat as he takes my mouth in a deep kiss, then pulls away, getting rid of his boxer briefs before settling between my thighs.
From this angle, he looks devastating, every muscle in his body tense, his cock pulsing.