Salvatore

13

The scent of coffee fills up my nostrils, peacefully waking me from my slumber. My eyes open slowly but instantly fall shut again. I worm around beneath the sheets, trying to peel them open again. It's too bright out here. I turn over, desperate to get away from the light.

But I'm not alone the room. And this room isn't mine.

"Sainte?" I mumble, my voice groggy.

"Go back to sleep, Sofia. It's early."

"What time is it?"

"7:30."

"No," I whine. "It's the weekend."

"Shut your eyes. I'll be out of here soon."

"Where are you going?" I blink a few times, trying to get a better view of the room. Sainte is sitting on the other side of the bed, his hair wet and his chest bare. There's a cart by the door that wasn't there last night. There's a jug of coffee on it, so that must be where the smell is coming from.

"I have a meeting," Sainte says.

"Now?" I scowl. "On a Saturday morning?"

"Crime doesn't rest, Sofia."

I smile at him. He smells good. He always does, but he's clearly just come out of the shower.

"How long have you been up?"

"Since 5."

"What?" I moan. "What have you been doing?"

"Training."

"Are you serious?" I shake my head. This man has issues. "Did you get any sleep last night at all?"

It was pretty late by the time we got into bed. He gave me a shirt and a pair of sweatpants to sleep in, but it was way too warm. The pants are sprawled over the floor somewhere along with my dress. it's alright, though. His shirt is basically a dress on me, anyway. Besides, his bed is so big, we didn't touch all night. He slept pretty bare, too—in just a pair of boxers. He did ask if I was okay with that first, though, but of course, I was.

He may be inhumanly sexy, but I have plenty of self-control. I can keep myself together. At least, for now. It may get harder and harder the more we get to know each other. There are so many layers to him, it's intriguing.

"I slept well," he tells me. "Did you?"

"Yeah, me too," I nod. "It's just early."

"Are you feeling okay after last night?"

"Yeah, I'm just tired," I say. "I'm so sorry for how I acted. I didn't mean to drink that much. I just got... carried away, I guess."

"It's okay, Sofia. Don't fret."

"But you specifically asked me not to."

"I shouldn't have. You can do as you please."

"Well, it's not exactly very attractive, or classy, for that matter."

"Neither is half the shit I do," he tells me. "Don't worry about it, okay? You had fun, didn't you?"

"I did," I smile cheekily. "You were very nice to me last night."

"You sound surprised."

"I am. You were so relaxed. It was nice to see you outside the office."

"It doesn't happen often," he admits.

"Did you have a good time, too?"

"I suppose I did. I don't attend many events."

"Why not?"

"There's always something better to do."

"Then why did you go last night?"

"I thought it would be a good way to get to know each other."

"It was," I agree. "We didn't argue all night."

"That's pretty impressive if you ask me," he chuckles. My lips instantly pull up into a smile.

"You're doing it again," I say.

"Doing what?"

"Being goofy."

"Goofy?" he snickers. "I thought you were just saying that because you were drunk."

"Nope," I laugh. "You look goofy when you smile."

"And that's a good thing?"

"Absolutely. It's so..." I hesitate for a moment, trying to find the right word. "Sexy."

"Sofia," he looks away from me. "You shouldn't say those things."

"Why not?" I frown. It's meant to be a compliment. "Don't you like it?"

"Oh, no, I do, I do," he assures me. "Trust me, I do."

"Then what's the problem?"

"Our circumstances are unclear."

"But you like me, right?" At least, that's basically what he told me. He was attracted to me and who I am and what I do.

"Of course I do," he says. "But I don't want you to be with me purely because it's expected of you."

His eyes don't show any vulnerability. His expression remains blank, but that doesn't mean he's not being genuine. With him, his affection is evident in the small things. If he wasn't being genuine, he wouldn't be so patient with me. He wouldn't allow me to defy him, he wouldn't smile and laugh around me, and he sure as shit wouldn't allow me into his room—his personal space. That goes against everything he stands for. He'd never let any of that happen if he didn't care for me.

"It's not like that," I sit up straight, shifting closer to him. "I like you, Sainte. The more I get to know you, the more I like you."

"I suppose the circumstances aren't ideal," he places his hand on mine.

"I know it was rough at first, but you're growing on me," I laugh. "And if we were on the outside world, I would've asked you out by now."

"Yeah?" he smiles. "Where would you have taken me?"

"Well, I'd hope you'd make the plans."

"Oh, you'd let me in charge now, huh?" he teases.

"Only the one time," I joke.

"I wouldn't let you do it anyway."

"Let me?" I scold him. "What did we talk about?"

"I just mean... I'd want to charm you, you know... spoil you."

"Charm me?" I wriggle my eyebrows. "That sounds so proper. You always speak like an old British king."

"Close."

"An old Italian king?"

"That's better," he nods. "If you'd like, I can cancel today's meeting and take you out."

"No, you have to go," I say.

"Would you like to come with me?"

"To your meeting?" I scowl. "Can I?"

"Of course," he nods. "You're with me. You can do whatever you like."

"I like that," I smile. It feels so powerful, and it's definitely turning me on.

Hé gets up off the bed, heading into his wardrobe. I can't help but eye his body as he moves. He's so fit. He's pure muscle and perfectly toned. On the outside world, I'd sleep with him in a heartbeat. Even if he had the personality of a potato, I'd let him destroy me just for the night.

"The meeting starts in five minutes, but don't worry about being on time," Sainte returns to the main room, this time with his chest covered. "I had some breakfast brought up for you in case you were hungover. Make sure you eat some before you come down. I don't want you feeling unwell, okay?"

"Okay," I nod eagerly, my mind still racing with dirty thoughts.