𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐏

𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

His voice stills me in my spot and when I turn to look at him, I'm met with the most angelic view. Alessandro is wearing a short-sleeve button-up, with the top buttons undone.

"Alessandro? What are you doing here?" He gives me a quick glance before looking at Leonardo, who is standing very close to me, with his hand on mine, as they lay on the bar counter. Alessandro's eyes move to our hands, then back to Leo, which makes me automatically remove my hand away from the counter.

I feel like I've been caught doing something wrong, but I haven't. Leo is just a friend, and even if he wasn't, Alessandro and I aren't together.

"I came here for the opening. What else would I be here for?" His eyebrows rise, and I look at him quizzically, "All the way from New York?" He shrugs his shoulders before looking back at Leonardo. I clear my throat stopping the staredown between the two men, "Leonardo, this is Alessandro. Alessandro, this is Leonardo."

I wait for some reaction, but nothing happens, "Okay. . ." I whisper under my breath. Men.

"So you're the guy that almost ruined Angelica's reputation and career?" I don't know what I expected Leo to say, but this definitely wasn't it. I quickly look up at Alessandro whose stoic expression falls for a short moment. His jaw ticks a little and I shortly feel bad for what Leo said.

I'm glad when I see Sam walk towards us and after quickly assessing the situation and looking at my face, he gives me a questioning look. When he finally gets to us, I break the silence by introducing him to Alessandro, "This is Samuele, Leo's brother."

Sam stretches out his hand and thankfully, Alessandro grabs it and shakes it, "I'm Alessandro."

"Hey, Leonardo vieni con me," Sam says as he drags his brother away from us.

(Hey, Leonardo come with me)

The moody man in front of me doesn't even try to acknowledge me and orders a drink, before addressing me just to ask what I want, too.When I don't give him an answer, too focused on thinking about what he's doing a nine-hour flight away from New York, he orders me a Sex on the Beach, which he knows is my go-to drink when I go out.

The bartender starts making our drinks and I expect him to finally turn around and at least look at me, instead, he takes his phone out and starts texting someone. I snatch it out of his hold, frustrated at him.

He turns to look at me nonchalantly, which finally triggers my rant. "Listen, I'm sorry about what Leo. I didn't know he was going to say that. . . I didn't even know he knew, to be honest. But you're here, with no reasonable reason, and you're giving me the cold shoulder. Did I do something? Did I somehow in the last two days piss you off so much th-" I'm interrupted by his lips crashing on mine. I'm initially taken aback, but I quickly reciprocate and kiss him back, placing my hand on his cheek.

When he breaks the kiss, I immediately look away. Something about that kiss felt different. It was so much more passionate and . . . I don't know . . . affectionate? For the first, I can't bring myself to look at him, my cheeks heated and if it was possible they'd be tinted red, because of how much I'd be blushing.