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3

ARIA

I stumbled back, nearly falling over as the door was pushed by someone unfamiliar. Strong. Stranger.

Warning sirens were blaring, but they weren't louder than the pounding of my heart. I was about to have a full blown panic attack, right there in the centre of my apartment.

When the person on the other side finally revealed themselves, I was not prepared. At all. He walked into my apartment, shutting the door with his foot as I stared in pure horror.

"Bellissima," he murmured. Who? "You should really lock your doors."

"Close your mouth," the man from the previous night instructed, and I automatically lifted my jaw because I was unaware that it was hanging in the first place. That's how shocked I was.

The audacity of him, the fucking nerve. He was there, in all his glory standing tall with a black suit covering his big ass body. Had he followed me home?

"What the fuck..." I whispered, unable to find my voice because of how I absolutely couldn't comprehend the situation.

Eventually I did.

"What the fuck," I repeated, my voice harder as I stepped away from him.

He had the gall to laugh.

"You love that word," he commented, eyes scanning my apartment. Not even paying attention to me. I don't think he realised how fucked up it was that he just entered my home without permission. I was definitely more stunned than afraid.

Then, he lifted his jacket to put his hand in his pants pocket, showing me the silver gun on his waist. I could tell that it was his way of silently warning me.

My eyes darted to the closed door, and he caught me looking.

"Not a good idea," he said, almost smirking. The dent on his cheek was childlike, seemingly out of place on a man with a body like his.

Close up, with light pouring in from my windows, I could see his face much clearer. It fucked with me that he was so good looking, and also very much capable of killing me.

I stayed quiet, silently controlling my breathing. I was prone to hyperventilating, even when the situation begged me not to. It was just one of those things I had to think about really hard in order to maintain the tiniest bit of control.

"You were at the restaurant, and now you're in my apartment. This is normal to you? I don't even know-"

"My name is Alessandro. Sandro, if you want. There. You know me," he said cheekily, bending down to look at my picture frames on the shelf.

Alessandro.

The accent came through heavier when he said his name, and I swallowed hard as I silently watched him. It sounded so good coming from him, and I hated myself for even finding it the least bit enticing.

"Sandro-" I was still very much flabbergasted.

"Aria." He nodded his head, almost as if he was acknowledging me for the first time.

"Why are you in my apartment?" God, I sounded like I was asking to be killed.

This time, he took the gun from his waist and gently laid it down on the small glass table. I never took my eyes off it. Far too intimidated to do anything besides watch him walk around my apartment as if he owned the place. I clenched my jaw, starting to feel more annoyed than scared.

"You do know you have no right to be here, right?" My voice was shaking, even though I was trying my best to control it.

Sandro looked at me, and then as if he was realising how truly afraid I was, he sighed. He shrugged the suit jacket off his shoulders, sliding it down his arms before draping it over the wooden chair.

The first few buttons of his shirt was undone, showing me the silver chain around his neck and a glimpse of a tattoo on his chest.

The fucker was just making himself comfortable in my home.

"I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to talk," he said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

I looked at the closed door, contemplating my options. I could always scream...who knows what he plans on doing with me.

"Like I said...not a good idea," he repeated his earlier words, watching me carefully. He wasn't looking anywhere else anymore, just straight eye-contract and it had my body flushing with heat.

It was probably from the danger of the entire situation. Yes, definitely from the danger of it.

My annoyance increased tenfold, feeling more fed up than scared. If he wanted to kill me...I rolled my eyes at him and walked to my kitchen. My apartment was open planned, dainty but homey.

It only took a few steps for him to reach me and sit in the opposite chair. He was calm, turning his head and inspecting my apartment. What the fuck was happening?

I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans.

"Let's talk about last night," he said, leaning his elbows on the counter. There was a look in his eyes, completely different from when he had a gun pointed at someone's head. Gun...It was still on my table and I couldn't help but gaze at it every few seconds.

"What about it?" I glared at him, and he seemed to find it amusing. There was no point in denying it or lying and saying I didn't have a single clue what he was talking about.

"For a witness, you're very brave," he said observantly.

Witness? I was a witness? It dawned on me that criminals usually got rid of anyone who happened to see anything they shouldn't. The lump in my throat returned, my blood running cold in my veins.

The terror must have shown on my face.

"Yeah, a witness. I'm sure you've seen what happens to witnesses." Alessandro said, crossing his arms as he observed me. He had his head tilted, seemingly of innocent nature but nothing of the situation was innocent. I was two seconds away from completely losing it as I sat there before him.

All I did was walk home with work.

"I won't say anything," I managed to speak. Sandro smirked, but it was nothing short of intimidating.

"Oh, I know. I'll make sure of that."

"What do you mean?" I asked dumbly, wanting to immediately face-palm myself.

He didn't answer me, but the expression on his face spoke volumes.

And then he stood up, startling me as I leaned back in my seat. I watched as he walked around the counter, inching closer until he was right next to me. He was so close that I could smell his cologne, and feel his presence. I didn't look at him, let alone acknowledge him as I stayed frozen.

It felt like I was one wrong move away from death.

"Aria," he said, softer than before. His stomach pressed against the side of my arm, forcing my breath to escape in shaky hitches. Why was I letting him so close to me? Why was I making myself so vulnerable? Everything about him, his presence, his built, the way he looked at me – absolutely everything should've had me screaming at him to get the fuck out.

But he was in my apartment. Invading my space. Doing as he pleased. For my own safety, for my own well-being, I clamped my teeth together and stayed quiet.

Knowing what he was, knowing what he did, I couldn't help but hate how he was making me feel.

Why did he have to be so fucking hot?

"Aria, look at me," he demanded, but his tone was gentle.

"No," I tried to deadpan but my traitorous voice broke. All I could think about was the proximity between us. I was still sitting, making him seem way taller as I felt his eyes on the side of my face.

Suddenly, my cheeks were gripped, in the same way he did last night. I gasped, my eyes widening as I finally did what he demanded. His green eyes were swirling with emotions, narrowed in curiosity as he observed me.

A blush warmed my face, right beneath his fingertips.

I could've pulled away, but I made the stupid decision of letting him touch me as if he wasn't discreetly threatening me.

"I don't like being disobeyed, bellissima," Sandro whispered, darting his tongue out to wet his lower lip. It was so full- so pink. I noted that he had nice lips. Traitorous fucking thoughts.

"I-"

My lack of words made him smile, not a smirk. But a smile that had his dimple forming on his cheek. His knuckles caressed my cheek, ever so slowly before making its way down to my neck. He paused, seeking any form of protesting from me but I had none to offer.

All I could do was sit there and watch him.

He leaned down, staring at me through thick eyelashes. My chest was no longer heaving, and my heart was no longer pounding hard. A certain tranquillity washed over me. And he seemed as calm as ever, just gazing at me with an odd scrutiny and eyes full of emotions that I couldn't read.

Just as he grazed my neck, he pulled away and I let out a breath that I didn't know I was holding. I didn't know that my thighs were clenching too until he stepped back and I felt the tension leave my body.

"Ti ho preso," he said, the gentlest smile across his lips. (translation; I got you)

What just happened?

My mouth fell open, too stunned as I watched him move away from me. He collected his gun, stuffing it into the back of his pants. He was no longer looking at me.

I struggled to speak, still in disbelief at how vulnerable I had made myself. Sandro looked smug, as he came to my apartment with a motive and he had succeeded. I wanted to smack it off his fucking face.

I practically offered myself on a silver platter.

Tightening my jaw, a wave of anger surged through me. "Get out."

He laughed. An arrogant laugh that boiled my blood. "Ciao."

Two seconds later, he was out of my door and closing it behind him. Rushing to it, I was quick to lock it and check the handle just in case he decided to come back.

"Fuck," I breathed, my head falling into my hands.

I could still feel him on me.

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