Chapter 4
Recovery.... Then Relapse
Mila
The morning was bright, and I carried its light within me as I walked through the hallway, forcing a smile to smooth away the weight of yesterday's worries.
My steps were steady, deliberate, as I descended the staircase with my chin lifted high. I didn't glance at anyone, didn't allow my eyes to wander, not when there was the chance I might lock eyes with Adams by mistake. I wasn't ready for that. Not today.
The familiar scent of brewed coffee and warm bread greeted me as I stepped into the cafeteria. I moved quietly through the line, collected my breakfast, and settled at an empty table tucked away from the chatter of the room.
There I ate in silence, my fork cutting neat lines across the plate, my posture composed. I wanted to look put together, polished, even if inside I was still piecing myself back together.
When my tray was empty and the last sip of juice gone, I decided I deserved a little more than food this morning. Something lighter. Something new. Clothes, shoes, bags, things that might help me feel like myself again.
With that thought, I ordered a ride. The car arrived quickly, as if the universe had no intention of letting me change my mind. And within minutes, I was on my way to the central mall, the city opening before me with the promise of distraction and possibility.
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I entered the mall looking like I owned the world, with employees attending to me at every turn. I picked out things I couldn't resist. the fresh scent of new clothes, the shine of shoes, the elegance of bags, and I bought plenty. With a swipe of my credit card, the assistants completed the purchase, and I was ready to leave.
But as I turned, I bumped straight into a broad, muscular man in a casual T-shirt and shorts. It almost felt like he had positioned himself deliberately in my way.
What the hell, I shouted. Why did you do that?
He didn't answer. He just stared down at me, and I had to tilt my head back to meet his gaze, the height difference undeniable.
And God, he was fine. Too fine. His presence froze me in place as I waited, wanting him to say something, anything.
We meet again, he said at last, his voice deep but smooth.
Sorry, what? I asked politely, my sunglasses dangling in one hand while the other struggled to balance my shopping bags and credit card. Have we met before?
In a flash, he snatched the card from my hand and looked at it.
Mila Damson, he read aloud. A pretty name, for a rude girl with a pretty face.
I scoffed, stepping closer to snatch the card back, ignoring his intimidating height.
Remember me? he asked.
No, I don't, I replied flatly, my expression set in disgust.
Then his lips curved, and he delivered the reminder like a blade sliding between ribs.
Fuck you. That's what you screamed before slamming the convenience store door in my face. Remember now?
My stomach dropped. Oh my God. It was him. The resemblance hit me like lightning, the dangerous, Italian looking man I had written off as trouble, now standing here disguised in something so simple.
It was really him.
"So?" I said, refusing to let him intimidate me, though deep down I felt a flicker of nerves.
He chuckled softly. "Haha, I'm Alessandro Fabio," he said, stretching out his hand with an easy confidence.
"Mila, as you already know," I replied, deliberately ignoring his hand and reaching for my card, rolling my eyes at his arrogance.
He scoffed.....half amused, half disappointed
then lifted his hand just out of my reach, teasing me without a word. I huffed, turned on my heels, and started to walk away.
"Allow me to take you to dinner today and right now," his voice followed, smooth and commanding.
"No," I shot back sharply, as if my refusal might leave a dent in his pride.
"Yes, ma'am," he replied with infuriating calm, a mischievous spark in his eyes.
We argued back and forth until I finally surrendered. not to him, but to my own exasperation. One meal, I replied to him.
one meal, I told myself. Just one, if only to make up for the sharpness of my earlier attitude.
"Just one meal then," I said, fixing him with a look.
"Deal?"
"Deal," he replied with a sly smile.
Without missing a beat, he turned to the man who had been walking beside him the whole time and instructed him to carry my bags to his car.
Alessandro walked me over himself, holding the passenger door open with a gentleman's grace before extending his hand to help me in. I slipped into the seat, and he shut the door softly behind me.
He exchanged a few quiet words with his assistant, then made his way around to the driver's side.
Without another word, he slid into the seat, started the engine, and drove us off into the hushed embrace of the evening.
I sat quietly, my eyes drifting between the road ahead and the glow of my phone screen. The silence in the car was so thick it almost felt eerie, wrapping itself around us like an unwelcome guest.
Twenty minutes into the ride, he finally broke it.
"So, Mila, would you like to tell me about yourself?"
he asked, his attention fixed on the road.
I shrugged lightly. "Well, I'm Mila, and honestly, there's not much to know about me."
He glanced at me briefly, a hint of playfulness tugging at his lips. "If there's not much to know, then why don't you tell me that 'not much'? After all, that's still something." His tone carried both seriousness and teasing, though his eyes never left the road.
I couldn't help but laugh, the sound spilling out louder than I intended. "I'm really bad at introducing myself, for real."
He smirked, then said, "Alright then. Let's do it this way…"
"I'm Alessandro Fabio," he said with quiet confidence. "And you are?"
"Mila Damson," I replied.
He nodded slightly, then began. "I'm originally from Ravello, Italy. I moved to Texas at fifteen because of my father's business, and later, at twenty, I came here to Briarhaven, Ontario, after partnering with him."
I smiled politely. "I'm from Silver Halloween, here in Canada. I moved to Briarhaven after getting admitted into Marionridge University."
"Interesting," he said, a hint of warmth in his voice. "Well, I'm twenty-seven soon to be twenty-eight in just a few weeks."
"That's cool," I replied.
"And you?" he pressed curiously. "Your age?"
I shook my head with a teasing smile. "Not going to say."
"Oh, come on, girl. It's not that deep," he said with mock exasperation.
"Yeah, I swear it's not," I laughed, "but still… not telling."
He chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled the car into the grand entrance of the Reading "Crystal Fir Manor."
The hotel loomed above us, elegant and imposing. a place clearly meant for men of power and influence. Alessandro stepped out smoothly, then circled the car to my side. He opened the door, offering me his hand with the effortless charm of someone used to doing it.
"Welcome," he said simply, his eyes glinting as he helped me out beneath the glow of the hotel's lights.