Aria
Aria stood in the aisle of dusty academic texts, pretending to skim a book on political theory, something she had zero intention of reading. Her heart thudded like a drum in her chest, so loud she was convinced it echoed between the shelves.
This is stupid. So stupid.
She checked her phone for the umpteenth time. No messages, no missed calls—no signal from Valentina to abort mission.
But the plan was already in motion.
Valentina had learnt from her bodyguard that Alessio tend to visit Cavallo's bookstore at least once a month. Cavallo's bookstore is a privately owned bookstore near the edge of town. Aria had never been there, but today she gambled on Alessio being there.
She came dressed subtly—dark jeans, a rust-colored crop sweater, boots. Her hair half-up, effortlessly messy, just enough to look nonchalant.
As she turned a page she wasn't reading, the small bell over the door chimed.
She didn't look up. Not immediately.
But her breath caught in her throat.
He's here.
She felt him before she saw him. The shift in energy. The sudden chill of shadow and smoke brushing her skin. Alessio Moretti walked into the store like it belonged to him, like the whole world paused for a moment to let him breathe.
He looked like a sin wrapped in luxury—black slacks, a grey sweater under a dark trench coat, gloves in one hand, and eyes scanning the store with clinical calculation.
And then his gaze landed on her.
He blinked.
And smirked.
"Funny running into you here," he said.
Aria lifted her head slowly, eyes wide, heart pounding.
"Alessio," she said, feigning surprise with practiced innocence. "Didn't expect to see you off-campus."
He took a slow, deliberate step closer, hands in his pockets, tilting his head.
"Didn't expect to see you here either."
They both knew they were lying.
"Do you read Marx?" he asked, motioning toward the book still in her hands.
She looked down and blinked. "Uh, definitely not."
He chuckled. Low. Dark. A sound that vibrated in her bones.
"I didn't think so." His voice was silk wrapped around a knife.
"Do you come here often?" she asked, then internally cringed at how cliché it sounded.
Alessio raised his beautiful, arched brows. "Why are you asking?"
Aria sighed and lowered her head. "Nothing. Forget I said anything."
He stepped beside her, so close she could smell his cologne—dark amber, woodsmoke, and danger.
"Actually," he said, voice low, "I was hoping I'd run into you again."
That surprised her. She turned fully to face him. "You were?"
His gaze didn't waver. "You're not easy to forget, Aria."
Her breath hitched.
He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You're bolder than most people I know. Most people don't challenge me."
"Maybe they should," she said softly.
His expression shifted for the briefest second. Something flickered behind his eyes—amusement? Admiration? Or was it something darker?
"I like you," he said finally.
She blinked.
"And that's a problem."
Her chest tightened. "Why?"
"Because I'm not supposed to."
They stood there, the tension thick enough to cut with a blade.
Then, like nothing had happened, Alessio's phone buzzed. He glanced down, frowned, then slid it back into his coat.
"I have to go," he said. "But this won't be the last time we run into each other, Aria."
He turned and began walking toward the door, but halfway there, he paused and looked back.
"Next time," he added with a smirk, "pick a book you can actually pronounce. Just a suggestion."
He vanished with the sound of the bell again.
Aria stood frozen, her fingers still curled around the book's spine, heat rushing to her face.
She had planned the meeting.
So did he.
Alessio
Alessio smiled lightly as he remembered the blush that ran through Aria's cheek when he called her out.
His assistant opened the car's door and he climbed in.
Alex looked at him with awe.
"What's wrong? Something on my face?"
"Nothing Sir." He quickly averted his gaze.
"You didn't stay long in the bookstore today."
"I found what I needed," Alessio replied coldly, though the ghost of a smile tugged at his lips.
She was braver than he thought. And far more dangerous.