Page 37 of Alessio

He didn’t ask for this.

Alessio shouldn’t have any emotionfor this woman.

Yet, he did.

More and more each day.

He did.

That would be a problem.

Alessio took the sauce on the tip of the wooden spoon Ginevra held out to him, surprised at the richness and varying notes that glided across his palate from just one taste. Leaning back on the stool, he nodded.

“It’s good.”

She gave him a look. “Just good?”

One breath in.

Another breath out.

He had to remind himself to breathe with her, too.

“It’s wonderful,” he murmured. “Really.”

A lot like her.

And that’s enough.

Alessio liked this woman—did he need to say that again?—and he hadn’t planned for this at all. It wasn’t why he came back here, not even a thought until it stared him right in the face and laughed at him.

The universe having another joke.

He wasn’t ready for it.

He was pissed, but not at her. Ginevra hadn’t asked for this situation, and mostly, she gave him and Corrado as much space as she could to work out their issues without her stepping in. That’s why she still slept in a separate bed even though he didn’t give a fuck if Corrado was fucking her.

Because she had a heart.

She gave a shit.

Even though this hurt her.

Alessio needed to be mad. Mad this became less and less about why the fuck Corrado had done what he did—more about why Alessio thought he was doing the same fucking thing.

He pushed off the chair, despite Ginevra’s confused expression, and turned to leave the kitchen without an explanation. Corrado, standing in the entryway, and watching their exchange with an amused smile really sent his blood pressure spiking.

Like the man just knew what was happening—expected this.

And he liked it.

Fuck that noise, too.

“Les,” Ginevra said, a question lingering in her tone, “are you okay?”

Not at all.

Not one fucking bit.