Chapter 5
"Crystal fir Manor"
Recovery.... Then Relapse 2
Mila
He helped me out of the car, his hand firm around mine, and guided me through the hotel entrance. From the way the reception staff moved without a single question, it was obvious, he was a VIP here. No words exchanged, just a respectful nod as we were directed straight through the lobby, down the hall, into the elevator, and finally to room 510. The plaque read VIP.
"I knew it," I whispered to myself.
Inside, the room was lavish. We sat at the dining table, and I quickly noticed personal belongings scattered neatly around the space. This wasn't just a hotel suite, it was his. He either stayed here often, or it was already his place.
Before I could think too much on it, the doorbell chimed. Alessandro had stepped away to freshen up, after casually asking if I wanted to do the same. I declined, so I rose to answer the door instead.
Room service rolled in, setting down dishes with the flair of a grand feast. Platters upon platters, like we were celebrating something more than just dinner. I kept my composure, though inside I was stunned at the extravagance.
Moments later, Alessandro emerged, looking freshly renewed. With an easy grace, he joined me at the table, and together we began our meal.
----
We ate in silence, the clinking of silverware the only conversation between us. Five minutes slipped by before I cleared my throat, daring to break the quiet.
"How about you tell me the kind of business you do?" I asked.
He exhaled, a long, deliberate sigh, the corners of his lips curving into something unreadable.
"Table manners," he said at last, his tone stern, eyes locked on mine.
I took the hint, this was a subject best left untouched. So I let him be, and the silence returned, thicker now, lingering over the table as we finished our meal.
By the time the clock kissed 9:25, I leaned back, voice softer, almost hesitant.
"Perhaps it's time I head home," I whispered.
He smiled, shaking his head.
"Come on, Mila. Stay the night."
I straightened in my chair, meeting his gaze with resolve.
"No," I said firmly. "That isn't something I do."
The air between us grew taut, stretched by our back and forth, his insistence, my refusal. Minutes melted into a quiet battle until he leaned closer, a mischievous glint in his eye.
"Then let's strike a bargain," he said. "Tell me your age, and I'll let you slip away into the night. Though I must say, it's far too ungodly an hour for a lady like you to wander alone."
Inside, panic flickered.
No, I couldn't tell him. Nineteen sounded like a confession, a revelation of youth too raw, too unfinished. He would see through me, see only a child wrapped in silk, feasting on her father's wealth while pretending to be a woman.
My mind raced, weaving an escape. Then the thought came, swift as lightning.
"How about this," I countered, tilting my head with a teasing smile. "You tell me what business you are in… or you let me go at this ungodly hour."
I knew he wasn't going to answer my question and would simply let me go, so when he finally spoke, I felt a strange wave of relief.
"Ever heard of the FerranoMarzani Elite Group?" he asked.
"Yes," I replied without hesitation. "That's one huge company."
He leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable.
"It's a partnership, not owned by one, but by two."
"Ohh, nice," I said, nodding, not yet understanding where he was going.
Then his words dropped like a stone into still water.
"That's my father and me."
I froze. For a few seconds, I couldn't breathe, couldn't think. What the actual?
It was true. I'd heard the name before. The empire built by an Italian father and son. But never in my wildest thoughts had I imagined he was the son.
Maybe it was because I had never bothered to dig deep into the details online. Curiosity took over, and I quickly searched again. There he was, his face lighting up the screen. In some photos he wore a broad, charming smile; in others, he carried the same stern expression that mirrored his father's.
"Damn…" I whispered under my breath, exhaling sharply.
And in that moment, I knew.
I was going to stay the night.
Still, a sly smile tugged at my lips as I thought to myself,
Well, at least I won by never revealing my age.
_____
Steam curled around me as I slipped from the bath, leaving my skin warm, my hair damp, clinging in strands along my neck. When I stepped out, his shirt hung from my frame like a stolen secret, long enough to graze my thighs yet short enough to betray that it wasn't mine. The fabric smelled faintly of him. clean, masculine, intoxicating.
He leaned lazily against the arm of the chair, glass of juice in hand, pretending to study his phone, though I felt his gaze brush over me like fingertips.
His smirk earlier, when he pressed the shirt into my palms with that wicked you'll be needing this, still burned in my mind. He knew he'd won.
he knew i would be staying the night.
I tossed my hair dry with the towel, drew a blanket close, and curled into the couch.
"What the hell are you doing?" His voice cut through the silence.
"Sleeping here," I murmured. "The bed is yours."
"And that's exactly why I'm giving it to you."
I shook my head. "No."
His sigh came with a half smile, soft and certain.
"You never listen, Mila."
I only sank deeper into the cushions, stubborn as ever. But before long, I felt the world tilt. Strong arms slipped beneath me, lifting me as though I weighed nothing. I opened my eyes into Alessandro's steady, intent, gleaming with something dangerous.
He carried me to the bed, trying to set me down gently. But his balance betrayed him, and in the stumble, his body fell against mine. His warmth enveloped me, his breath fanning my lips.
The pressure I expected never came, only the shock of his closeness, the silk of his skin against mine, the magnetic pull of his gaze. His scent wrapped around me, dizzying, drowning. Every inch of me screamed to close the last space between us.
I wanted him. God, I wanted him.
I thought I had escaped this hunger with Adams, thought my heart had been cauterized shut. That was only yesterday. And yet here I was, twenty-four hours later, burning all over again. A relapse of desire. A fall I couldn't resist.
Because in that moment, his eyes, his breath, his very presence weren't just calling to me,
they were consuming me.