"What?" I blinked at him, stunned. "Who says I’m not sleeping at the hotel?"
His response was a filthy grin. "You haven’t known each other that long, have you?"
Alessandro had his hands buried in his pockets, watching me with an innocent look so provocative it made my blood boil. "You’ll have to get used to things not going your way. You take me to the hotel when I say so," I stated, crossing my arms. After a beat, I added, "Otherwise, I’m not coming at all."
A crooked grin spread across his face, followed by an unapologetic laugh that filled the room. "Oh, baby, I love your defiance," he replied, straightening to his full height, his gaze pinning me in place. "But you know what? I bet tonight, you’ll want anything but to go back to that hotel."
His words alone sent a sinful pulse straight between my thighs. Damn him.
When I entered the hotel room, Carter was already there, sprawled across the bed, snoring. It was a strange moment—surreal—but I was relieved Giovanni had sent one of his men to drag him out of the lounge and bring him here. He meant almost nothing to me now, but my conscience wouldn’t let me abandon him. I had moved as quietly as possible while showering and changing, preparing to spend the rest of the night with Alessandro.
Now, I sat beside him in his Ferrari. His hands gripped the steering wheel with reverence, as if the car were sacred. He guided it steadily along the dark country road, headlights cutting through the pitch-black night, interrupted only occasionally by the silhouettes of ancient olive trees or the shadows of stone walls. The evening’s events still played like a film in my mind as I turned slightly toward him and crossed my arms.
"So, are you finally going to tell me where we’re going? Or are you planning to kidnap me?" I asked with a playful smile, though secretly, my patience was wearing thin.
He smirked, his gaze flicking to me briefly before returning to the road. "Kidnap you? Why would I? You’re sitting here willingly," he countered with that signature mocking humor that both irritated and fascinated me. "Besides, this car would make for a very conspicuous getaway vehicle."
I laughed softly, but my curiosity didn’t fade. "Then what are we doing? Any hints? Or are you going to keep me in suspense all night?"
He shot me a sidelong glance, his eyes glinting in the dashboard lights. "You’re really bad at patience, you know that? You’ll see soon enough. Maybe you’ll even learn some self-control."
For a moment, I stayed silent, my gaze drifting over the car’s polished interior. I rolled my eyes at the thought of how much this toy must mean to him and leaned back in the seat, still trying to make out something in the darkness.
After what felt like an eternity, Alessandro suddenly turned onto a narrow side road. The asphalt gave way to crunching gravel, and the car jolted slightly over the uneven ground.
"How much farther?" I asked, unable to hide the skepticism in my voice.
"Not long," he replied tersely, making it clear further questions were pointless.
Twenty more minutes through a nearly unlit landscape, and we passed through a large wrought-iron gate that swung open as if by magic. Alessandro guided the car up a gravel driveway lined with cypress trees until we finally stopped in front of a surprisingly small house. A lantern in the courtyard cast warm light over the façade, built from classic Tuscan stone. It looked clean, well-kept—inviting, even—but it wasn’t what I’d expected.Not with the flashy persona Alessandro usually projected.
He turned off the engine and faced me, his expression turning serious. "I can’t wait to show you my home," he said, his voice uncharacteristically genuine for once.
I stared at him in disbelief, searching his face for any sign of irony. "This is your home?" I finally asked, gesturing at the modest stone house. "You’re joking, right?"
"What did you expect? A castle?" A smile flickered across his lips. "You see this car you’re sitting in? It drained my entire budget. I had to choose between it and a bigger house."
"Very funny," I muttered, raising a skeptical eyebrow as he stepped out and shut the door with a flourish. Alessandro circled the car and opened my door with a theatrical gesture.
"Come on, Fiona. You can’t sit here all night," he said with a grin that told me he was enjoying this game far too much.
Still hesitant, I stepped out of the car and followed him to the wooden front door. He turned the heavy key in the lock and pushed the door open. The house smelled of fresh wood and a hint of lavender. Alessandro paused, stepped aside, and looked at me. "Welcome home."
I lingered in the doorway, letting my gaze wander through the space. The soft glow from the fireplace illuminated the stone walls, casting a warm, inviting light while dancing flames threw shadows across the floor. It was cozy—almost unexpectedly simple. No flashy opulence, just a tasteful haven of calm that immediately drew me in. "So this is your home?" I asked again, skeptical whether he was actually serious.
Alessandro stayed where he was, grinning—that typical grin of his that revealed nothing yet hinted at everything. It got under my skin every time.
"Don't play dumb," I said, annoyed, crossing my arms and eyeing him challengingly. "I don’t care how big your house is. Honestly? I like it here."
He kicked off his shoes and tossed the car keys onto a small dark-wood table. Without a word, he strolled toward the compact kitchen at the far end of the room. I heard drawers slide open and shut before his voice, casual as ever, called out: "It's my hunting lodge."
I blinked, unable to stop a disbelieving laugh from escaping. "Your hunting lodge?" I leaned against the wall, tilting my head. "What exactly do you hunt in Tuscany?"
He turned back to me, that sly, unreadable look in his eyes. "Red deer and wild boar," he said with exaggerated seriousness. "Aggressive, overbreeding bastards."
I burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the room. "Sounds almost like a description of you," I shot back, watching his grin widen.
Amused, he arched a brow before turning away again toward the kitchen counter. "What do you want to drink?"
