Page 42 of Alessio

A plate of eggs, bacon, and toast waited for him in the warming rack of the oven. Still hot, and ready for him to eat. Huh. He pulled it out, ignoring the nagging sensation in his chest because fuck, he was selfish as hell, and yet, one of those two still thought about him and made sure he would eat.

Probably Ginevra.

Alessio didn’t cook—he ordered.

Corrado, balancing the plate in his palm and using a fork to stab into the eggs, he decided to go find the two. He figured they were likely in the library, pouring over a book because that’s what they enjoyed first thing in the morning, and it let him have quiet time after he woke up. Something he needed when he first woke up.

Bad moods, and all.

Corrado entered the hallway leading to the office, main bathroom, the gym, and the one spare bedroom Alessio was using at the far end. The connecting hallway led to the other bedrooms, his and Ginevra’s. He’d focused on getting out of bed, he hadn’t bothered to look around the corner when he came out.

Alessio leaned against the doorway of the gym, staring inside. Corrado set his fork to the plate, and picked up a strip of bacon, shoving half into his mouth while his brow furrowed at the sight of the man standing there, dressed, staring into the room like he was considering whether he wanted to enter.

“What are you do—”

Alessio waved the hand at his side, never looking Corrado’s way. He made an annoyed noise, passing the office library and realizing, it was empty. Ginevra wasn’t in there, either.

He figured out where Ginevra was when Corrado came to stand next to Alessio’s side. Inside the gym, the woman had slipped on the headphones Corrado liked to use when he was running in the mornings—it helped to distract him from the fact he wasn’t running on a trail—as she jogged on one of the four treadmills lining the far windows. Four treadmills, because each one served a different purpose, and did different things.

“So, she jogs,” Corrado said to Alessio.

Alessio nodded. “But for an hour or more?”

Corrado raised an eyebrow as he took in Ginevra again. No, that was unusual. Typically, if he woke up early enough to see her go into the gym, she jogged for twenty to thirty minutes, jumped in the shower, and then went about her day.

Oh, he liked watching her run, sure. He would not pretend like her lean form didn’t have his cock perking under the satiny cloth of his gym shorts, but he figured Alessio was trying to tell him something right then, and his lust could wait.

“That long?” he asked.

Alessio let out a hard breath. “Yeah.”

Huh.

“Something is on her mind—it’s bothering her,” Alessio murmured.

Corrado gave the man a look from the side. “Les, her whole life is a mess. Congratulations, you’re just realizing she is really good at compartmentalizing shit like you do. She tucks it all away, lets no one know she’s having a rough go, and continues on with her life. Between this here, New York, being without her sisters … I would be shocked if she wasn’t one step away from a nervous breakdown.”

“So, we … let her do this?”

He looked back in the gym, noting Ginevra’s pace hadn’t changed. She focused, working through whatever nonsense was in her mind by making her body tired, and pushing it to its limits.

“Because I don’t like that,” Alessio added quieter, “I don’t like it when she’s upset, even if she doesn’t say that.”

“That’s a step forward, ain’t it?”

Alessio scowled. “Could you not?”

“I’m just saying.”

“Well, don’t.” Alessio sighed, shaking his head. “It bothers me she’s—”

“Hurting,” Corrado interjected, handing his plate over to the man, which Alessio took with a question in his stare. “You figured out what my problem has been these last three weeks.”

“What?”

“With you. Excuse me.”

Corrado left Alessio in the doorway, and entered the gym, still hungry but willing to put it off for a little while. He crossed the space, and jumped onto the treadmill beside Ginevra’s, turning it on and starting a pace good for a warmup.