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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Alessandro felt the rush of urgency as he stepped close to her, his hand reaching out instinctively. He wanted to be her shield, her support, to remind her of her strength. He kept his voice steady, though he could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on him. "Once we're home," he murmured, his voice low and soothing, "I want to show you something." His fingers wrapped gently around hers, grounding her, even if just for a moment.
She looked at him, her eyes glossy with unshed tears, and nodded softly. But then, almost as if pulled by an invisible weight, she began to drift toward a nearby shop, one selling winter clothes—heavy hoodies, oversized sweaters, thick sweats. Layers, Alessandro realized, layers she could hide behind.
A pang of dread shot through him. "No!" The word escaped him before he could contain it, his hand tightening around hers as he held her back. She looked up at him, those glossy eyes now wide with surprise and a hint of frustration, the tears threatening to spill over her cheeks.
"Please, Alessandro," she whispered, her voice breaking as she pleaded, her gaze imploring. Her vulnerability tore at him, each tear on her delicate face, each shadow cast by the scars she had so carefully hidden, felt like a silent scream that he could barely bear to hear. He could see the fear in her eyes, the instinct to retreat, to conceal the pain, to find comfort in the armor of fabric.
But Alessandro couldn't let her retreat—not like this, not after everything they had endured to be together again. His voice trembled with desperation as he spoke, willing her to see beyond the surface. "I can't let you hide, bella," he whispered, his thumb brushing over her knuckles, his touch a gentle reminder of his presence. He wanted her to feel safe, not invisible.
She let out a frustrated huff, the sound mingling with the ambient hum of the mall, and pulled her hand free from his grasp, her fingers slipping from his like grains of sand slipping through his hold. For a brief moment, he felt her slipping away, not just physically, but emotionally, the connection they had fought so hard to restore threatening to unravel.
Without another word, she walked in front of him, her shoulders tense, her back stiff, a barrier forming between them with every step. She didn't enter the shop, but she hovered close, her gaze fixed on the racks of clothes, as if each piece of fabric held the promise of comfort she so desperately sought.
Alessandro's heart ached as he watched her, a helpless longing rising within him. He wanted to bridge the distance, to reassure her, to tell her that she didn't need to hide, that her scars didn't define her. But he knew she needed to come to that realization on her own. All he could do was stand by her side, his love for her a quiet, unspoken promise that he would be there, even if she stumbled, even if she faltered.
As he watched her, a quiet determination settled within him. He would be her strength until she found her own again. And maybe, just maybe, when they got home, he could show her that no amount of fabric, no shield she put up, could ever conceal the beauty he saw in her
