ARIA

The sun woke me up.

I groaned out loud, rolling onto my stomach and continued to cuddle into the pillow and sheets. As soon as my brain registered where I was, the memories of Sandro and his tongue came flooding in. Fuck.

That was one of the best sleeps I've ever had.

I pushed myself up on my palms when I realised I was the only one in bed. I was also butt ass naked. My chest and hips were covered in marks that were already starting to fade – Sandro's marks. The sight of it had my cheeks flaming uncontrollably.

Getting on my knees, I did my quick morning stretch to get rid of the tired in my muscles. The alarm clock resting on the bedside drawer read 12:00. I blinked a few times, a little confused on how I managed to sleep that long.

I rolled out of bed and clumsily landed on my feet, nearly tripping in the process. My lip tightened as I picked up the discarded t-shirt in the corner of the room and slipped it over my head. I walked to the bathroom where I found an unopened toothbrush waiting for me. After doing everything that I needed to, I left the bathroom and went looking for Sandro.

The penthouse had a lot of rooms – and one of them was a customised gym. As soon as I peeked inside, my mouth fell open. Sandro had his bare back faced to me, his muscles flexing as he performed pull ups on a high bar. Underneath the bright lights, the tattoos on his back were clearly visible. I didn't know how I had missed it before, but the more I stared, the more it quickly became my favourite part of him.

It was art, significant meaning or not, it was beautiful and I was envious.  I leaned against the door frame, tilting my head to the side as I watched him.

Sandro's sweatpants were low on his hips, and the view was mouth-watering in the least. I could have stood there for hours, just watching him but that would have made me a classified creep.

After a few more minutes, he jumped down and rolled his shoulders.

"Did you enjoy that?" he asked, out of breath. He still had his back turned to me.

"Yes."

He turned around, a dimply smile on his face and I returned it. My eyes trailed down his stomach, not even caring that I was blatantly checking him out. Sandro slipped the gloves off his hands, approaching me until he was towering over me. He grabbed me by the waist, pulling me towards his chest and then his lips were on mine. It had happened so sudden, but I was quick to return the kiss.

I felt his hand slide over the curve of my ass, slipping underneath the t-shirt before he gave it a hard squeeze. I gasped, feeling his smile against my lips.

"Good afternoon, bellissima. Did you sleep well?" he mumbled, gently stroking my skin. He was definitely an ass man.

"I did, thank you," I said, looking up at him. "Did you?"

"I did," he said, giving me another smile. He had a happy glint in his eyes, very different from when he returned home last night.

"Wanna eat?" he asked, giving the tip of my nose a kiss.

"Yes," I grinned. "Do you?"

He smirked mischievously, eyeing me. "I always want to eat."

The innuendo was painfully obvious, and I chuckled as I shook my head. "Let me get dressed and then we can leave."

"Leave? No, amore mio. I'll make you breakfast," he said, frowning in slight offense. Amore mio. My Italian dictionary was limited, but those were words that I knew and it had me close to swooning. And then he grinned, as if he knew the effect it had on me.

What was it about Sandro that made him so fucking attractive?

*

Thirty minutes later and I was honestly impressed.

"Did you go to culinary school or what?" I asked, leaning my arms on the table as I watched him do his thing. Sandro had leftover croissant dough in the fridge and after folding and twisting, he put it in the oven to bake. He bent down, opening the door of the oven when the timer went off and removed the tray. I never took my eyes off him.

He set it down, "Not even close. I'm still learning, and half the time I'm fucking it up but I try,"

"You seem to be doing just fine to me," I said, crossing my arms. I was assigned to sit down and just be pretty, according to Sandro's words.

He grinned, and I wanted to compliment his pretty smile but he spoke again, "I remember a few things from when I had to cook as a child," he said, and I frowned. Had to?

"Did you love cooking as a child?" I asked curiously. I wanted to know more about him. I almost laughed at myself—get to know the man after he eats your pussy.

"Not at all. But unless I wanted to starve to death..." he trailed off, looking around the kitchen before grabbing a chopping board. He said it so casually that I had to replay his sentence in case I misunderstood him.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I said, not knowing what else to say.  Naturally, I wanted to ask more questions but I bit my tongue.

Sandro offered me a smile. "Don't be. Bellissima, your face speaks even when your mouth is close. Just ask me before you explode," he said, slicing open a melon. I chuckled, realising that I did a pretty bad job at hiding it.

"I just want to know what you mean when you say starve to death. That's very concerning," I said, resting my chin in my palm.

Sandro chuckled, "Don't be concerned. I just had to make the most of what little we had. That's all," he said.  That's all.

"Is that..." I murmured, trailing off.

"Is that how I got into organised crime?" he asked, looking up at me as he continued cutting. How the fuck did he know?

"Please keep your eyes on the knife," I scolded him, not wanting him to cut himself and surprisingly, he listened. "But yes."

"Kind of. My father had to figure out a way to provide for his family and when I was eighteen, I joined him. I just happened to be good at it and took over once he retired," he explained, shrugging.

I nodded, "And your mom? Siblings?"

"My mother died when I was ten," he said in a way that told me he had already healed. "I have a few half-siblings from my father's side. They don't know me."

I couldn't fathom losing a parent, especially at such a young age. I pursed my lips—I had always been overly sensitive when it came to those sort of things and Sandro must have seen it on my face. Again.

"Bellissima. It was a long time ago. Come give me a hug," he said, dropping the knife and opening his arms. I struggled to comprehend how he was the one with the traumatic past, yet he was the one offering me comfort. I stood up, walking over to him to wrap my arms around his waist. Maybe he needed it too.

He gave me a kiss on the top of my head, sighing in content. "I'm good, baby. Don't worry about it,"

I smiled into his chest. "Good."

Sandro pulled away, picking up a pink fruit. "What's that?" I asked. It was familiar, but I never tried it.

"This?" He held it up. "It's a dragon fruit,"

He set it down on the chopping board and cut off the ends before slicing into it, making two halves. The flesh of the fruit was a vibrant purple, with small black seeds. He took the peel off, cutting it into smaller pieces and offering me one. I eyed it warily. It was unusually vivid but also very beautiful.

"Here," he said, holding it up for me. "Try it and see if you like it."

I wrapped my mouth around it and the second it touched my tongue, my nose scrunched up. "It's nice."

Sandro laughed, taking a piece for himself. "You're a terrible liar,"

"Nah, I'm not lying," I said. "It's not bad."

Sandro smiled, and offered me a piece of melon which I gratefully took. "Better?"

I nodded. It was a lot sweeter and took the tangy taste out of my mouth. "Much better.

"Let's eat, bellissima," he said, placing his hand on my lower back.

• • •