Matteo, Leonardo, and Alessandro, the powerful owners of De Angeli Enterprises, are in their early thirties and have built a fearsome reputation worldwide. Known for their ruthlessness and ambition, these men have amassed wealth and influence by tak...
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Yulia jolted awake as her alarm blared, the shrill sound piercing through the haze of her disorienting dream. Her heart raced, her throat dry, as she blinked at the ceiling, trying to make sense of where she was. For a moment, she lay still, the vivid fragments of the dream still clinging to her like the remnants of a storm.
It felt so real—too real. She could almost feel Matteo's breath on her neck, Alessandro's firm touch, and Leonardo's lips brushing her skin. A shiver ran down her spine, and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force the images away. How could it have been just a dream?
Her eyes darted around the room, searching for something—anything—that would confirm it hadn't been a figment of her imagination. Her gaze landed on her bedside table, but there was no empty mug, no traces of the midnight trip to the kitchen that had started it all. Instead, her mother's recipe book lay sprawled open across the bed, its pages crinkled from where she had fallen asleep on them.
Yulia groaned, covering her face with her hands. She hadn't gone to the kitchen. She hadn't seen the men. She hadn't watched Alessandro and Leonardo in that intimate moment. She hadn't felt Matteo's hands on her. It had all been in her head.
"Ugh!" she yelled into her pillow, her voice muffled by the fabric. Frustration bubbled up inside her, mixing with embarrassment as the details of the dream resurfaced, vivid and unrelenting. How could her mind betray her like that? And now, how was she supposed to face them?
Every time she looked at Matteo, Alessandro, or Leonardo, all she would be able to think about was that dream. That damn dream.
Yulia groaned again, pressing her face deeper into the pillow, wishing she could disappear into the soft, comforting fabric. The air in the room felt thick, almost suffocating, and her skin prickled with heat as if the dream hadn't yet released its hold on her. She could still feel the ghost of their touch, lingering, teasing her senses.
She sat up, running a hand through her hair, trying to shake off the fog of sleep and the vivid memories of the night that hadn't even happened. The room felt colder than usual, the early morning light casting soft shadows on the walls, but even in the quiet of her space, she couldn't escape the flush creeping up her neck.
How would she look any of them in the eyes today? How could she act normal when all she could think about was the heat of Matteo's body pressed against hers, or the way Alessandro had looked at her in the dream, his gaze dark with desire? And Leonardo—God, Leonardo. The way he touched her so softly, so intimately, it was all too much.
Her pulse quickened at the thought, and she flopped back onto the bed, pulling the covers over her face. She was in trouble. Big trouble. If she couldn't even manage to sleep without dreaming of them, how was she going to handle being around them in real life?
"Get it together, Yulia," she muttered to herself, throwing the blanket off with a huff. But deep down, she knew it wouldn't be that simple. Not when the line between dream and reality felt so blurred.
