Alessia Amato has everything any girl could ever wish for. Money, fame, and beauty. So why is it that she's always missing something? Every time she thinks she's found the seed a romance might grow out of, something snatches it away. Or is it someon...
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I have her right where I want her. My darling Alessia with her hand in mine. Her warm, soft skin against mine. The overwhelming feelings nearly bring me to my knees. She is certainly about to.
I pull her hand, my gaze never leaving hers, leading her to the exit. Her cheeks are rosy and her eyes are glistening. My beautiful.
"What would you like to eat?" I stop myself from adding love.
"Hmm," she appears thoughtful. "I'm not sure."
I'm aware of my princess being indecisive but I'm also aware of what she likes.
"Maybe Italian?" I offer. Her eyes light up.
"Ooh, yes." She nods eagerly.
I want to wrap myself around her, keep her away from everything else. She's mine. Every breath, every action and thought of hers is mine. She's so precious. My treasure.
We make our way to the closest Italian restaurant which I've already googled before we met. The city is quite busy, plenty of loud cars and people. Colourful advertisements everywhere, tall buildings and dirty streets. But my focus is only on her. This woman is consuming all of my attention.
"So how old are you?"
"Thirty two." I glance to see her reaction. Her eyes widen.
"Oh..." She mumbles, flustered.
"Is my age a problem?" I ask, worry flooding my mind.
"No. Of course not." She blushes. "Aren't you curious about my age?" My darling Alessia looks up at me, a crease between her brows.
Oh, yes. I momentarily forgot I'm not supposed to know everything about her.
"How old are you?"
"Twenty six." She answers, searching my face for a reaction.
I tighten my hold on her hand. She thinks her age will deter me. Nothing about her can push me away.
"What do you do for a living?" I ask, feigning unawareness of every detail about my little one.
"I don't work. My parents take care of me. Unless you count my partnerships with various brands. What about you?"
"I own a business." I reply, keeping it short and simple.
The fact that I pull her into the restaurant stops her from asking me more about it. We take a seat at a secluded table and look into the menus. I glance at her, already knowing what her face will look like. Brows scrunched and pink lips pouted. God, she's adorable.
