𝗙𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗕𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝗩𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗮 𝗨𝗻𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗲.
I never thought my world would crumble at the hands of a man like Alessandro Rossi-a 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 draped in silk suits and ruthlessness. One moment, I was Yasenia Fraga, daughter of the...
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A low, guttural sound ripped me out of sleep, and I shot up in bed, heart hammering like a drum. Shoving the sheets off, I blinked into the dark, my brain scrambling to figure out what the hell I'd just heard. The room was dim, the faint glow from the garden lights barely cutting through the shadows. Unlike last night, the bed was empty—Alessandro must've taken the couch or wandered downstairs.
I slapped at the nightstand until I found the lamp, squinting as the harsh light spilled across the room. That's when I saw him—and froze.
Alessandro was on the couch, but not the Alessandro I knew. He was a mess, drenched in sweat, his huge frame curled in a tight ball. His muscles were taut, fists clenched around the sheets like he was holding on for dear life. His whole body shook with a violence that made me instinctively pull back. This wasn't the man who always had his shit together, the one who exuded control and invincibility. This was someone else entirely, someone trapped in a nightmare so real it was ripping him apart.
I hesitated, my hand hovering in the air as I debated whether to wake him or give him space. It was jarring—terrifying, even—to see him like this. Vulnerable. Broken. My fingers trembled as I finally reached out, barely brushing his shoulder.
He jolted awake instantly, his eyes flying open, wide and wild, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. I flinched—not because I was scared of him, but because of the raw fear carved into his face. It was the kind of terror that didn't just go away.
I backed off, giving him room, but it was like he wasn't even here. His shaking stopped, replaced by this eerie stillness. His hazel eyes were clouded and dark, haunted by something I couldn't even begin to understand.
Kneeling by the couch, I hovered my hand above his arm, hesitating. I wanted to pull him back, but I wasn't sure if touching him would help or just make things worse.
"Alessandro," I whispered. Nothing. He didn't flinch, didn't blink, didn't even acknowledge I was there.
Anxiety coiled tight in my chest, making it hard to breathe. What was I supposed to do? Wake Luca? Andrea? But the thought of anyone else seeing him like this—vulnerable—made me hesitate.
Water. That's all I could think of. Maybe it'd snap him out of... whatever this was.
I was just about to stand when Alessandro's hand shot out and latched onto my arm, nearly yanking me off balance. His grip was iron, desperate, and his eyes were still glassy and distant, and not anywhere near here.
"Alessandro," I called to him again, my voice soft but insistent, hoping to pierce through whatever walls his mind had built. "Listen to my voice... I'm here, Alessandro, I'm right here."
His hold on me was brutal, the pressure biting into my skin, but I didn't care. Physical pain was nothing compared to the ache in my chest watching him like this. Slowly, I sat down beside him, easing my arm free as gently as I could. His grip was reluctant, like letting go might unmoor him entirely. Once free, I reached up and cupped his cheek, my palm pressing against his sweat-slicked skin.
