Chapter 16: Tongue Tied

I heard the sound of footsteps and panicked.

Shit. Shit!

I lunged for my towel, snatching it from where it had fallen around my feet and yanking it up just as the doorknob turned. Alessandro took one step back, expression unreadable, chest still heaving slightly from the kiss we weren’t going to talk about.

Ever.

The door creaked open.

My father walked in.

Flanked by two of his men.

I stood there, clutching the towel like it was a goddamn lifeline, wet hair clinging to my skin, heart beating like I’d just run a marathon barefoot through glass.

Dad’s gaze swept the room, then landed on me. Then Alessandro.

He narrowed his eyes.

“What’s going on here?”

I opened my mouth.

No words came out.

My brain was still trying to reboot after the full-body reboot Alessandro’s mouth had just delivered.

But then—

“What did you do this time, Aria?” my father asked with a sigh. Exhausted. Like he was already blaming me. Like it was just another day in the Moretti mansion with his disaster of a daughter wreaking havoc.

My jaw dropped.

Are you fucking serious?

“Wow,” I breathed. “Really, Dad? You're just going to assume I’m the problem?”

He didn’t answer.

Because Alessandro did.

“I heard a crash,” he said coolly. “I came to check if she was alright.”

That was it.

Just that cold, calm tone, like I hadn’t just tried to frame him and he hadn’t just shoved his tongue down my throat in retaliation.

I should’ve told my father.

I should’ve looked him dead in the eye and said, He kissed me. He crossed a line. Fire him.

But I didn’t.

I don’t know why.

Maybe because my skin was still tingling. Or because my thighs were still pressed together too tightly. Or because if I told my father, Alessandro might get punished… and for some reason, I didn’t want that.

God, I hated myself.

“I dropped the vase,” I said quickly. “That’s all. Doesn’t mean I was dying. He didn’t have to come busting into my room like the fucking FBI.”

My father folded his arms. “He’s doing his job.”

“Well, he can do it from outside my damn room.”

“Stop making things difficult for Alessandro and let him do his job, Aria.”

Oh, that did it.

I clenched my jaw. “All of you, get the hell out of my room.”

“Aria—”

“OUT!” I screamed.

My father shook his head and walked out without another word. His two men followed, barely sparing me a glance. Alessandro paused at the door, one hand on the knob, the other clenched by his side.

He didn’t say a word.

But his eyes met mine—and in them, a silent warning burned like a brand.

‘Don’t pull that shit again.’

I flipped him off.

Right to his face.

He blinked, once. No emotion. Then he turned and walked out, pulling the door shut behind him with a click that felt like a slap.

I ran.

Straight to the door.

Locked it.

My back slammed against it as I gasped for breath, my heart pounding, my body shaking, my hand rising slowly—so slowly—to touch my lips.

He kissed me.

He actually kissed me.

And worse… worse…

A part of me had liked it.

My fingers trailed across my mouth, still tingling from the memory. That kiss hadn’t been sweet. It had been punishment. Violence, dressed as seduction. And I’d moaned into it like some desperate little fool.

I wanted to scream.

Throw something.

Rip out my own brain and bleach it.

Instead, I slid to the floor, towel bunched around my thighs, and covered my face with my hands.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

That dream last night had already wrecked me. I’d woken up soaked, embarrassed—and pissed. And now this?

I stood up, pacing like a madwoman. My skin was hot, my core was throbbing, and I couldn’t stop picturing the way he’d looked at me before kissing me. Like he wanted to rip me apart.

And now he was still out there.

Still breathing the same air as me.

Still my shadow, my curse, my prison.

I stormed to my closet and yanked out a short and top pulling it on without bothering to dry off properly. My body still hummed—still betrayed me.

I needed to fix this.

I needed him gone.

I needed to talk to my father. Convince him. Bribe him. Threaten him, if I had to.

Because this wasn’t just about pride anymore.

This was about survival.

Because I couldn’t take it if Alessandro ever kissed me again.

Ten minutes later, I stomped down the grand hallway of our mansion like a queen about to declare war.

Guards stood aside without a word. They knew better than to try and stop me.

I found my father in his study, sitting behind that giant mahogany desk that probably cost more than some people’s homes. Papers were spread in front of him, a glass of whiskey beside his laptop.

“Aria,” he said without looking up. “Unless someone’s dead, not now.”

“No,” I snapped. “But someone will be if you don’t listen to me.”

That got his attention.

He looked up slowly. One brow raised. “Is this about Alessandro again?”

“Yes, it’s about Alessandro!” I hissed. “He’s a nightmare! A complete, controlling, arrogant, insufferable—”

“He’s protecting you.”

“He’s suffocating me.”

“He’s following my orders.”

I stomped closer, slapping my hands on the desk. “Then change your orders.”

He sipped his whiskey. “No.”

“No? That’s it? Just no?”

“Yes. No.”

“Daddy, I’m serious. He’s invading my privacy, standing outside my room, watching me like a hawk—”

“Maybe if you didn’t act like a walking PR disaster, you wouldn’t need watching.”

I froze.

That stung.

He didn’t even try to soften it.

My father’s eyes darkened. “You think I don’t know what you tried to pull back there? You wanted me to walk in and see him with his hands on you. You wanted me to fire him.”

I flinched.

“So you knew?”

“I’m not stupid, Aria.”

“You believe him over me?”

“I believe in patterns. Yours are destructive. His are professional.”

I shook with rage. “You’re unbelievable.”

“No,” he said calmly. “You are. Alessandro stays.”

I screamed.

Like actually screamed. Threw my hands in the air and spun around before I could hurl something at his smug face.

“You don’t understand what he’s doing to me!”

My father blinked. “Is he touching you?”

Yes. In my dreams. And in my head. And on my goddamn lips.

“No,” I muttered.

“Has he disrespected you?”

“…No.”

“Then we’re done here.”

I turned in anger and was about to storm out but my father's voice stopped me.

“Wait—” I stopped, and turned back slowly, eyes narrowing.

"I have a proposal for you."