Unshakable

The scent of coffee and something warm and buttery filled the air as Alessandra stepped into the sleek, modern kitchen. Sunlight streamed through the wide windows, casting golden hues across the black marble counters.

And there, standing at the stove like he hadn't wrecked her entire world the night before, was Matteo.

Her breath caught.

Dressed in nothing but low-slung sweatpants, his back was to her, all smooth, taut muscle shifting with each effortless movement. He moved with an easy grace, his bare feet silent against the tiled floor.

A vision of last night flashed through her mind—his hands gripping her hips, his voice a rough command against her ear, the wicked smirk that promised ruin.

Now, though, he was completely relaxed.

As if he hadn't just branded himself into her soul.

"You're staring, dolcezza."

Alessandra stiffened. "No, I'm not."

Matteo turned, his smirk deepening as his eyes raked over her—over the oversized shirt he had given from his drawer, the one that barely skimmed her thighs.

Heat flared in his gaze, dark and slow, making her stomach tighten.

"Yes, you are," he said smugly.

Alessandra rolled her eyes, stepping closer just as he slid a plate in front of her.

Eggs, toast, and something that smelled rich and decadent.

"You cooked?" she asked, arching a brow.

Matteo leaned against the counter, sipping his coffee. "I don't like watching you starve."

Something in his voice made her chest tighten.

It was so simple, so effortless—like caring for her was second nature to him.

She swallowed past the lump in her throat, focusing on her food.

For a few moments, there was only silence. The clink of cutlery. The occasional sip of coffee.

And then, Matteo's voice—low, smooth, utterly calm.

"Luca isn't going to stop."

Alessandra's fork stilled.

"I know," she said quietly.

Matteo reached for his coffee, his fingers drumming lightly against the ceramic. "He went to the Ricci family looking for you. That means he's desperate."

Alessandra frowned. "You said you handled it."

"I did." His smirk was razor-sharp. "But it also means he's willing to go to war for you."

A shiver ran down her spine.

Luca was reckless, but not suicidal. If he was pushing this hard, it meant he thought he had a chance of getting her back.

She glanced at Matteo. "And you don't think he does?"

Matteo chuckled softly, shaking his head. "No, cara. I know he doesn't."

His confidence was absolute.

Unshakable.

Alessandra studied him.

Matteo Corsini was powerful. Untouchable. She had known that from the beginning.

But now, she was starting to understand why.

This wasn't just about Luca being her fiancé. This wasn't just about Matteo taking her.

This was about control. About power.

Matteo wasn't a man who could be threatened.

He was a man who was the threat.

"How do you know?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Matteo smirked, setting down his coffee. "Because Luca might be desperate enough to challenge me, but he's not stupid enough to think he'll win."

Alessandra swallowed.

Because suddenly, she understood.

Luca could scream. He could rage. He could tear through the city looking for her.

But he could never take her back.

Because Matteo Corsini wasn't a man anyone could take from.

Alessandra's pulse quickened.

Matteo reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch lingering against her cheek.

"You're mine now, Alessandra," he murmured, his voice velvet and steel. "And I don't share."

A shudder rolled through her.

She should have fought it. Should have pulled away.

Instead, she leaned in.

Matteo's smirk softened, his fingers tilting her chin up. And then, just like that, his lips were on hers—slow, deep, devastating.

The kind of kiss that erased everything else.

Alessandra barely had time to melt into him before her phone buzzed loudly against the counter.

Matteo groaned, pulling back just enough to let her breathe, his thumb stroking her jaw.

"Let it ring," he murmured, dipping down to press another kiss to her lips.

She almost did.

But then she saw the name flashing across the screen.

Her secretary.

Her heart jolted.

Shit.

Alessandra grabbed her phone, answering quickly. "Bianca?"

"Alessandra!" The woman's voice was rushed. "Thank god. Where the hell have you been?"

"I—" Alessandra hesitated, glancing at Matteo. "I was… busy."

Matteo's smirk was downright wicked.

"Right," Bianca drawled, clearly unimpressed. "Well, you better un-busy yourself because you have a show in Volgaria tomorrow, and the press is already swarming the venue. They're expecting you to fly out today."

Alessandra blinked.

"Volgaria?"

"Yes, Volgaria." Bianca sighed. "Don't tell me you forgot."

"I—" Alessandra hesitated.

Because no, she hadn't forgotten.

She just hadn't expected to have to leave Matteo this soon.

Matteo, who was watching her with that unreadable smirk, fingers tracing lazy circles against the counter.

Alessandra exhaled sharply. "Fine. I'll be there."

"Good." Bianca huffed. "I'll book the jet. And please, for the love of god, try not to cause another scandal before then."

The line went dead.

Alessandra dropped her phone onto the counter, pressing her fingers against her temples.

Matteo chuckled. "Volgaria, huh?"

She shot him a look. "Don't start."

His smirk deepened. "Don't worry, dolcezza. I have some business there too."

Alessandra frowned. "You do?"

"Mmh." He reached for his coffee again. "A friend of mine has some interests there."

Something in his tone made her pause.

Matteo wasn't just going for her.

He had business there.

And that meant something dangerous was brewing.

Because Matteo Corsini never did anything without a reason.

And if he had reasons to be in Volgaria…

Then it meant someone else was about to enter the game.

Someone like Viktor Castellano.

Alessandra swallowed.

She had a feeling this trip was going to be far more than just a fashion show.

It was going to be a warzone.

And she wasn't sure if she was ready for it.