𝗛𝗶𝘀 𝗠𝗼𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝗧𝗼𝘂𝗰𝗵

22 - Desiderio Esasperante.

My thoughts kept drifting back to the kiss, my fingers unconsciously brushing over my lips, lost in the lingering sensation of his touch. I should've heeded the darkness I'd seen in his eyes—a clear warning to stay away. But instead, it drew me in, hypnotizing me, trapping me in its intensity. I was hooked, completely and totally fucked.

I let the memory take over, my unresolved feelings flooding my mind as I sank deeper into the thought of his lips on mine. My eyes shut, savoring the moment, until a sudden image of Alessandro with the redhead kneeling in front of him tore through my head like a slap. A sharp wave of nausea hit me, followed by a surge of self-loathing. How could I forget that? How could I let myself get so lost in the kiss that I ignored everything else? How could I let him sweep me off my feet so easily?

Whatever happened that night had stirred something dark in Alessandro—and something equally complicated in me, something I wasn't ready to face. The thought of losing him to his demons twisted something inside me, making it harder to keep up the walls I'd built to protect myself.

Frustrated, I sat up, knowing sleep was a lost cause. My thoughts were too chaotic, my heart too unsettled. I needed to calm down, and tea sounded like a good start. Quietly, I slipped out of bed and made my way downstairs to the kitchen.

As I walked past the office, Giada's voice suddenly rang out, sharp and angry in a way I'd never heard before. She was arguing with Diego, her words laced with a fiery intensity that stopped me in my tracks. Not wanting to intrude, I kept heading toward the kitchen, but their voices carried easily, too loud to ignore.

"You can't fucking tell me what to do!" Diego shouted, his voice dominating hers. "He's not your son; he's my son!"

"No!" Giada fired back, her tone fierce. "Alessandro is my son! I've cared for him, loved him, and been there when you haven't! I won't let anyone hurt him—not you, not anyone else! I've seen enough, I've put up with enough—but no more, Diego! If you lay a hand on my boys again, you'll have to deal with me!"

The argument ended with a door slamming, the echo reverberating through the house. Moments later, I heard footsteps heading toward the kitchen. Giada walked in, her face streaked with tears, and froze when she saw me. Surprise flashed in her eyes before she quickly wiped at her cheeks, trying to mask the emotions she couldn't fully hide.

I approached her, my heart aching for her. "Stai bene? (are you alright?)" I asked softly.

She nodded, but her tears betrayed her, slipping past the brave face she was trying to keep. I pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and offered her the cup of tea I'd just made. Slowly, she sat down, wrapping her hands around the mug. "Grazie (Thank you)," she murmured, staring into the rising steam.

"Are you sure you're okay?" I asked softly, careful not to push too hard. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Giada shook her head, taking a shaky breath as her tears began to slow. After a long moment, she finally spoke, her voice trembling. "Diego has hurt Alessandro so much—physically, emotionally—and I hate myself for not stopping it, for not doing more. He always threatened to send Alessandro away if I interfered, and Alessandro... he would push me away every time, refuse my help. I didn't know what to do. I was scared." She paused, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. "But no more. I won't let Diego hurt him again. I love my boys more than anything in this world, and I will do whatever it takes to protect them. Even if it means standing up to him. Even if it means sacrificing everything."