The Mafiaso And The AD 1024

Unintentional Intimacy

Back at the mansion, the days had begun to blend together into a strange mix of training, strategy meetings, and the occasional quiet moments where I found myself alone with Donte.

Those moments were becoming more frequent lately, and it was... confusing.

Neither of us acknowledged it, but there was a subtle shift in the air whenever we were near each other, like something unspoken was hovering just out of reach.

Today was no different. I found myself in the kitchen early in the morning, brewing a cup of coffee.

I was still half-asleep, my hair in a loose bun, wearing an oversized sweater that I'd borrowed from Donte-though he hadn't seemed to notice it was his.

As I reached for the sugar, my hand brushed against a much larger one.

"Oh, sorry," I mumbled, pulling my hand back quickly.

"No problem," Donte said, his voice still thick with sleep. He was standing closer than I expected, his presence warm and solid beside me.

I didn't even realize he was there. Our shoulders brushed, and I could feel the heat radiating off his body.

It was an innocent enough gesture, but it sent a spark through me that I couldn't ignore.

I glanced up at him, catching the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He didn't seem to notice the tension, or if he did, he was pretending not to.

I turned away quickly, busying myself with my coffee, but I could still feel his gaze lingering on me.

It wasn't until I was pouring the coffee that I noticed Marcel leaning casually against the doorframe, an amused look on his face.

I shot him a questioning glance, but he just raised an eyebrow, jotting something down in a little notebook he always carried around. I had no idea what he was up to, but I figured it was just Marcel being Marcel.

Later, I headed to the living room, hoping to find some peace. I sank into one of the plush sofas, trying to lose myself in a book. But not five minutes later, Donte wandered in, looking for something.

He seemed distracted, pacing back and forth before finally plopping down on the couch next to me.

The couch was large enough that we weren't exactly close, but there was something about the way he casually stretched his arm along the back of it, just behind my head, that felt... intimate.

"Reading anything good?" he asked, glancing over at my book.

I nodded, showing him the cover. "Just something to pass the time."

He leaned in slightly, his shoulder brushing against mine. "I used to read that one in college," he said with a smile.

His voice was warm, and the way he was sitting, so close and yet so relaxed, made my heart beat just a little faster.

Marcel appeared again, out of nowhere, leaning in the doorway like before.

He didn't say anything, just watched us with that same knowing smirk.

I noticed him jot something else down in his notebook before slipping away, and I couldn't help but wonder what exactly he was writing.

The gym was next. Donte and I often trained together, sparring to keep our skills sharp. Today, though, things felt different.

As we moved through our routine, our usual banter was there, but every time our eyes met, there was an extra charge in the air.

During one of our matches, I went in for a strike, and Donte blocked it, twisting my arm just enough to pull me against him.

"Gotcha," he murmured, a teasing smile on his face.

I tried to wriggle free, but the way he held me, with just enough pressure to keep me in place, felt more like a dance than a fight.

I was acutely aware of every point where our bodies touched, and when I looked up at him, I saw something flicker in his eyes, something that made me catch my breath.

"Not bad," I finally managed to say, trying to shake off the moment as I pulled away.

Marcel, who had apparently been watching from the doorway again, scribbled something furiously in his notebook, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

I gave him a look, but he just shrugged innocently, though there was nothing innocent about the way he was grinning.

And then there was Donte's office. I had walked in to ask him something about the latest plans for the mafia's next move, only to find him already standing, staring out of the window.

He turned when I entered, and the look on his face softened when he saw me.

"What's up?" he asked, his voice low.

I explained why I was there, but somehow, our conversation drifted into other things-less about business, more personal.

Before I knew it, we were standing closer, close enough that I could feel the warmth of his breath on my skin.

I didn't know how it happened, but one moment we were talking, and the next, I found myself leaning against the edge of his desk, with Donte standing between my legs, our faces inches apart.

Neither of us moved, but the tension between us was almost tangible. My heart was racing, and from the way his eyes darkened, I could tell he felt it too.

We were so close, just one step away from crossing a line neither of us had acknowledged existed.

I could feel his breath against my lips, and I wondered if he was thinking about kissing me as much as I was thinking about it.

But then, just as quickly as the moment started, it was broken by a knock on the door.

We both stepped back, our faces flushed, trying to act like nothing had happened.

Marcel walked in, his eyes flicking between us, a smirk on his face as he jotted something down in that damned notebook of his.

I gave him a look that could kill, but he just winked at me, closing the door behind him as he left.

I turned back to Donte, who was now avoiding my gaze, clearly as flustered as I was.

We both pretended nothing happened, diving back into business as usual, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something between us had changed.

As the day ended, I found myself lying in bed, replaying the events over and over in my head.

I didn't know what to make of it, but one thing was clear: this unspoken thing between us, whatever it was, wasn't going away anytime soon.

And somehow, that made me both nervous and excited in equal measure.