The Voice That Found Me

Alessia’s POV

Every instinct I had was screaming as I stepped out of my apartment.

The city moved as it always did—cars honking, voices overlapping, life continuing without care—but my body was tense, alert in a way I couldn’t explain.

I wasn’t imagining it anymore.

I was being watched, the encounter from last night confirmed it but I just didn't know if it was for a good cause.

The walk to the café felt endless. I kept glancing at my reflection in shop windows, half-expecting to see someone standing too close behind me. My shoulders were tight, my jaw clenched.

I barely recognized myself—this wary version of the girl who once walked through life without fear. I didn’t like this version of me, the one who felt like she could shatter at the slightest push.

The club hadn’t frightened me.

What unsettled me was how much I’d felt about someone who seemed so dangerous, the way my body responded to him felt so strange.

The way his presence had wrapped around me. The way his voice had lingered in my head long after he disappeared, the trails of his cologne after leaving, and how his words made my nipples tingle. The warning he gave me—you should leave—still echoed like a secret meant only for me.

The café offered temporary refuge. The familiar scent of coffee beans and steamed milk grounded me as I slipped behind the counter. I focused on routine—counting change, wiping tables, aligning cups—anything to keep my mind from wandering back to the night before.

It didn’t help.

The bell above the door chimed.

My head snapped up.

Not him, relief rushed through me.

A woman ordering espresso. Then a man on his phone. Just normal people going round their daily routine, I guess I was the only one not feeling normal.

By midday, Sofia still hadn’t arrived, and my gaze kept drifting back to the street. That was when I saw it.

Across the road.

A black car.

Parked too perfectly, too deliberately, as if it had always been there but I knew better.

My breath caught in my throat.

The windows were dark, impenetrable. The engine was silent, but the presence of the car felt heavy—intentional. Watching.

I stepped back from the window, I almost tripped on my own legs, my heart was pounding so loudly I was sure the customers could hear it, or not.

Don’t panic, I told myself.

My phone vibrated in my hand.

Unknown number.

Cold crept down my spine.

I answered despite myself. “Hello?”

Silence.

Then slow, controlled breathing on the other end of the line.

My grip tightened. “If this is some kind of joke—”

“You’re not imagining it,” a familiar voice said calmly.

My stomach dropped.

I knew that voice.

“You,” I whispered, I didn't realize I had lost my voice until I spoke.

“The man from the club,” he said. “And the man who called you the other night.”

My knees nearly gave way.

“Why are you doing this to me?” I demanded, lowering my voice, trying not draw attention. “Why are you watching me?”

“Because there's nothing more fun to do,” he replied. “And because….” He didn't finish his sentence but I felt him smiling.

My chest rose and fell rapidly. “You don’t get to make me feel uncomfortable just because it is fun to you.” I couldn't believe my ears.

He let out a soft chuckle. Low. Dangerous. Intimate.

“You’re right,” he said. “But I get to decide what I do with my woman.”

His woman?

I glanced back toward the street. The black car’s headlights flickered on.

Fear tangled with something else—something unsettlingly warm.

“Look at me,” he said.

“I’m not—”

“Alessia.”

My name on his lips sent a shiver straight through me. He said it as he owned it. Like he owned me.

Against every instinct, I moved closer to the window.

He was there.

Not in the car.

On the sidewalk.

Leaning against a lamppost as if he belonged there, dressed in black, posture relaxed, his eyes already lifted to mine as if he’d known exactly where I would stand.

Time slowed.

My breath caught, I could finally take a look at his face… he looked too good to be true, like a walking sculpture.

Dark eyes that didn’t rush, didn’t flinch. His presence felt deliberate, controlled—with hungry-looking eyes, like a predator waiting to devour his prey.

He raised his phone slightly, acknowledging the call was still connected.

“I told you not to be alone,” he said softly.

“I didn’t agree to listen to you,” I shot back, though my voice trembled.

“No,” he agreed. “But you answered.”

The bell above the café door chimed again.

My heart skipped.

He pushed off the lamppost and stepped inside.

The air shifted the moment he crossed the threshold.

It was like everyone had their eyes on him, people moved as he approached me, as if they knew him. My entire world narrowed to the space between us as he approached the counter slowly, like he didn’t want to startle me. Too late.

Up close, he was dangerously attractive.

Sharper. Warmer. His cologne wrapped around me—dark and masculine. For some weird reason, I wish we could both be alone.

“You shouldn’t follow people,” I said, shaking off weird thoughts.

“You shouldn’t make me come to you, I'm sure you don't want that,” he replied.

He looked down briefly at my cleavage, then back to my lips and straight to my eyes. The look sent heat spiraling low in my stomach.

“Who are you?” I asked, trying to gain control of the moment.

“For now,” he said quietly, leaning just close enough that I felt his breath, “I’m the man who watches. The man who calls. The man who won’t let anyone else claim what belongs to me.”

His breath and his cologne made my nipples tingle again, I wanted his hands on them so bad, to touch them and claim them like his.

“That sounds like a threat,” I said, almost breathless.

“It’s a promise.”

He straightened, taking a step back, giving me space even as his presence remained overwhelming. I felt a feeling of longing for him, I wanted to make him mine.

“I know how I make you feel…,” he said calmly, looking at my nipples that gave me away. “And I love it.” He grinned.

Before I could respond, Sofia burst through the door.

“Alessia—”

Her words died when she saw him, she slowed down her pace and looked at me trying to confirm if I was fine.

He glanced at her once, then back at me, his expression unreadable.

“This isn’t over,” he murmured. “It’s only beginning.”

Then he turned and walked out, leaving behind silence, heat—

—and the terrifying realization that I wasn’t running from him.

I wanted him even closer now but I was left without a hint of his name and erect nipples…