Semua Bab His Queen,Their War: Bab 71 - Bab 80

Alessia’s POVThe applause grew louder, swelling until it wrapped around me like a living thing, pressing against my ears, my chest, my heart.I had won.The realization hit me all at once, so sharp it almost hurt. My knees went weak, and if not for Guila gripping my arm from backstage, I might have collapsed right there in front of everyone. The judges were standing now, smiling, nodding, clapping as though they had always known this would be the outcome.I wanted to laugh. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream.Instead, I smiled.A man approached the stage, elegant and impossibly handsome in his tailored midnight-blue suit. He was Matteo Rossi, the second most celebrated fashion designer in all of Italy. My breath caught in my throat as he took my hands in his, his grip warm and firm, his eyes sparkling with genuine admiration.“Brava, signorina,” he said, voice low and rich. “This dress is gorgeous. Truly a masterpiece.”I almost sobbed right there on the stage.Cameras rushed forwar

Alessia’s POVSunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, spilling across the white marble floors. I blinked awake slowly, disoriented by the brightness and the silence. For a moment I lay still, staring at the high ceiling, the events of last night rushing back in a dizzying wave. The trophy. The cake. Lorenzo’s kiss. Salvatore’s quiet acceptance. What a minute, I’m in the penthouse? But I slept in the hotel! My body felt heavy, as though the weight of everything had settled into my bones overnight. I pushed myself up, the silk sheets sliding cool against my skin, and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. The apartment was too quiet. No clatter from the kitchen, no distant hum of the city muffled by staff movement. Just emptiness.I padded barefoot to the bathroom, the heated floors a small comfort under my soles. The shower was long and hot, steam filling the vast space until the mirrors fogged completely. I stood under the rainfall head for what felt l

Alessia’s POVI and Guila went to Lorenzo's office to pick up some documents that she had to check. While she was looking for the documents, I took a while to digest what Guila said earlier. My brain was still trying to process those words.Guila left with a quiet squeeze of my hand and a knowing look that said we would talk more later. The door clicked shut behind her, and the penthouse fell silent again. I rarely come here. It smelled of leather, cigar smoke, and his sharp and expensive cologne. The room was all dark wood and heavy furniture, bookshelves lined with first editions he never read, a massive desk that looked more like a throne than office furniture. I leaned against the door for a moment, breathing in the unfamiliar space.Then I crossed the room and, without thinking, boosted myself onto the edge of his desk. The polished mahogany was cool beneath my palms. My legs dangled and my toes brushed the floor. My eyes wandered slowly around the room. They were framed pictur

~Alessia's POVThe morning light was too bright. I stood at the counter, dipping a spoon into my espresso, watching the dark liquid swirl. My body still carried echoes of last night: faint bruises on my hips, a tenderness between my thighs, the ghost of Lorenzo’s mouth on my skin. I had showered twice, scrubbed until my skin was pink, but I couldn’t wash away the hollow feeling that had settled in my chest.Footsteps approached behind me. I didn’t turn. I knew the rhythm of Lorenzo’s walk.His hands settled on my waist first, warm through the thin silk of my robe. Then he turned me gently to face him. I kept my gaze on the hollow of his throat, afraid of what my eyes might betray.He cupped my cheeks with both palms, thumbs brushing just below my cheekbones. His touch was tender, almost careful, nothing like the bruising grip of hours ago.“I know,” he said quietly.I froze.“I know you didn’t come because of me.”The words landed soft but precise. No anger or accusation in his voice,

Alessia’s POVSaturday morning arrived soft and gray, the kind of Sicily's winter light that made everything feel hushed. Lorenzo had left early for a weekend or for some few days in Portofino with friends. He kissed my cheek on his way out, murmured something about shopping if I wanted, and disappeared. The penthouse settled into silence.Guila was home, but she got her eyes glued to documents. She waved me off when I offered help, telling me to relax, to take my usual Saturday stroll through the city. Normally I would have. I loved wandering the streets and stopping for a cappuccino.But today my feet carried me somewhere else.I told myself it was curiosity. Just one more look, just to confirm I hadn’t imagined the sketches, the perfume and the photographs. Just to prove to myself that it had been real and not some fevered dream born of sleeplessness and guilt.I knew Salvatore wouldn’t be home. He had mentioned earlier to Lorenzo quietly, and professionally that he had personal bu