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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As they step into the dimly lit garage, the cool, enclosed space greets Yulia with the faint smell of oil and rubber. The hum of the outside world fades away, leaving just the two of them surrounded by rows of parked vehicles. The low light from overhead fixtures casts long shadows on the concrete floor, making the scene feel almost secretive, like they were about to embark on a hidden adventure. Yulia's eyes flit around, scanning the cars parked neatly in their spots—BMWs, Chevys—all sleek and polished, each one gleaming under the dull light.
She pauses, trying to guess which of these impressive vehicles might be Alessandro's. Her gaze lingers on a few—maybe a flashy BMW like Leo or a classic Chevy like Matteo, but before she can settle on any one vehicle, Alessandro steps closer and, without a word, pulls the zipper of her jacket all the way up to her neck with a soft, determined touch. The gesture is protective, intimate, and it leaves her blinking up at him in confusion. He doesn't explain, just offers her a small smile that makes her heart stutter. Then, with a hand at the small of her back, he guides her past the cars, leading her to something completely unexpected.
When they stop, it's not in front of any of the luxury cars she expected, but rather a large, imposing motorcycle that sits proudly under the glow of a single, overhead light. The black machine looks powerful, its chrome parts gleaming like polished steel in the dim space.
"Oh," she whispers, the sound of her voice barely audible over the wind. Alessandro chuckles, his laughter deep and rich, vibrating through the stillness of the night. His amusement is clear, but there's a hint of pride in the way he looks at the bike—and her.
"Hold strong, si?" he says, his voice low, almost teasing, as he hands her a helmet. His accent curls around the words, making them feel like a promise. She nods, her heart pounding faster now—not from fear, but from the thrill building inside her. Alessandro carefully places the helmet on her head, fingers brushing against her skin as he secures it. There's something both calming and exhilarating in the way he takes his time, ensuring she's ready for what's to come.
He slips on his own helmet, and then, with a fluid motion, lifts her onto the back of the bike. Her legs dangle for a second before she plants her feet on the footrests, her fingers gripping the sides of the seat carefully to not hurt herself. The motorcycle feels massive beneath her, the leather cool and smooth against her legs. Her pulse quickens as she watches him swing his leg over the seat, settling in front of her with an effortless grace that speaks of years of experience.
The engine roars to life with a deep, throaty rumble, and the vibration travels through her, shaking her to the core. The sound is almost primal, a low growl that makes her heart race in sync with the hum of the machine. Alessandro's back is a solid wall in front of her, his broad shoulders steady as he leans forward, adjusting the bike.
Without thinking, Yulia wraps her arms tightly around his waist, pressing her body closer to his. The heat from his body seeps through his jacket, grounding her as the intensity of the moment builds. Her cheek rests against his back, and she breathes in the scent of leather, cologne, and something distinctly him.
Alessandro revs the engine once more, the motorcycle lurching slightly, and Yulia lets out a soft gasp. His laughter fills the night air, loud and carefree, as if her reaction is exactly what he hoped for. The vibration beneath her intensifies, sending adrenaline coursing through her veins. The anticipation is almost unbearable.
"Ready?" he asks over his shoulder, his voice muffled slightly by the helmet but still filled with that teasing edge. Before she can even respond, he kicks the stand up and they're off.
The motorcycle surges forward, the wind whipping past her in a blur of cool air and city lights. Yulia clings to him, her arms tightening instinctively as they speed down the empty streets. The roar of the engine and the rush of the world around them makes everything feel like a dream—fast, wild, and untethered. The buildings fly by in streaks of color, the streetlights casting long shadows on the pavement. She doesn't know where they're going—only that it doesn't matter. With the wind in her hair and the feel of Alessandro's solid frame in front of her, she trusts him completely.
Her heart pounds against her ribcage, not just from the speed, but from the thrill of the unknown. She doesn't know where he's taking her, doesn't know what awaits them at the end of the ride—but the excitement, the freedom, the sheer exhilaration of being with him, on this bike, in this moment, is enough to make her forget everything else. The world narrows to just them, the hum of the engine, and the open road stretching endlessly ahead into the night.
As they zip through the city, Alessandro's laughter echoes in the wind, and Yulia can't help but smile, her fear melting away, replaced by the pure adrenaline and wonder of the ride.
In no time, Alessandro steers the motorcycle into the spacious garage of an imposing building. The cool, enclosed space contrasts sharply with the open air they had just left, filled with the lingering scent of gasoline and the subtle hum of machinery. He parks the bike with practiced ease, ensuring the stand is firmly planted on the concrete floor before stepping off. The engine's roar fades, leaving only the echo of their footsteps against the tiled floor.
Alessandro reaches down, unbuckling his helmet with deliberate care. He removes it gently, revealing tousled hair that catches the dim overhead light. Then, with a swift motion, he takes Yulia's helmet and helps her lift it off, supporting her with a strength that reassures her. "Bella," he murmurs softly, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The affectionate nickname sends a warm blush spreading across her cheeks, and he chuckles, the sound low and comforting.
Holding both helmets in one hand and her duffle bag in the other, Alessandro begins to walk ahead, his steps steady and confident. Yulia follows closely behind, her hand lightly resting on his jacket to ensure she stays by his side. The garage is quiet, the only sounds their footsteps and the distant hum of the building's operations, creating an intimate bubble around them.
They approach the elevator, its metallic doors gleaming under the fluorescent lights. Alessandro presses the button, and they stand side by side, waiting patiently as the doors slide open with a soft chime. Stepping inside, the elevator feels even more secluded, the space between them charged with unspoken tension and anticipation.
As the elevator ascends to the top floor, Yulia feels the gentle pull of gravity, a reassuring reminder of their upward journey. Alessandro places the helmets and the duffle bag on the floor, then turns to help Yulia with her zipper, his hands gentle and precise despite the lingering awkwardness from his limited English. "Hmm... shower again, si?" he asks, his accent thick but his intent clear. Yulia nods, feeling the sweat still clinging to her skin. The confined space of the elevator heightens her awareness of every movement, every touch.
Soft lighting casts subtle shadows on the walls, creating a private atmosphere just for them. Yulia feels a mix of relief and nervousness, grateful for the chance to wash away the sweat and excitement of the previous ride. She trusts Alessandro implicitly, finding comfort in his presence and the way he effortlessly bridges the gap between his native language and her own.
As they reach the top floor, the elevator dings softly before the doors slide open to reveal a quiet hallway adorned with elegant décor. The sound of their footsteps echoes gently, and the soft glow from stylish sconces creates an inviting ambiance. Alessandro leads her down the corridor, each step filled with unspoken promise.
They reach a door at the end of the hallway, and Alessandro pauses, turning to face her. "Here we are," he says, his voice a reassuring anchor in the tranquil space. Yulia takes a deep breath, the promise of a peaceful evening washing over her. She follows him inside, ready to leave the hectic day behind and embrace the calm that awaits.
