Chapter 34- Boundaries Are Boundaries

Chapter 34- Boundaries Are Boundaries
ALESSANDRO’S POV

What the hell just happened? I was seconds away from losing my head.

She kissed me. Again.

For a long second, we just stood there. Her breathing was ragged. Mine wasn’t much better.

I could still feel the ghost of her mouth on mine.

She looked up at me then, eyes glassy and burning, her hands gripping my shirt like it was the only thing holding her up. Her voice came out a whisper. “Please. Kiss me again.”

I froze.

Every instinct in me screamed no. But the look in her eyes—raw, broken, desperate—made it impossible to move.

“Miss Moretti,” I said quietly, my voice low. “Stop.”

She shook her head. “I can’t.”

She pushed forward again, her fingers trembling as they tugged at my shirt, as if trying to pull the ache out of her chest and replace it with something—anything—she could feel. “Please,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Just… make it stop.”

Her words hit me harder than any blow.

I caught her wrists before she could go further. “Don’t,” I said, rougher this time.

She tried to pull free, but I didn’t let her.

“Let me go,” she said, her tone sharper now, almost angry. “You don’t understand. You never—”

“I do,” I cut in, jaw tight. “More than you think.”

But she didn’t hear me—or didn’t care. Her hands trembled harder. Her body pressed closer, trying to find warmth in the wrong place. Her pain was loud, louder than reason.

“Please, Alessandro,” she said, her voice cracking around my name like it hurt to say it. “Just… touch me.”

Something in me almost broke then.

Her face was so close. I could see the tears still caught in her lashes. I could feel her heartbeat hammering against me, wild and erratic. She smelled like rain and sadness and everything I shouldn’t want.

When her fingers slipped to the button of my shirt, I caught her hands again—harder this time.

“Enough,” I said, through gritted teeth.

Her eyes went wide. “Why are you stopping me?”

“Because you’re not yourself right now.”

“I am!” she snapped. “I know what I want!”

I shook my head slowly. “No, you don’t. Not right now.”

Her breath hitched, her chest rising and falling fast. The fight in her started to fade, replaced by something softer, something far more dangerous. She looked up at me like she was trying to see something familiar in my face, something that could save her from what she was feeling.

I couldn’t give her that.

“Aria,” I said quietly, “you’re hurting. You’re not thinking straight. You’ll hate yourself for this.”

She stared at me like she wanted to argue, but her words wouldn’t come. Her lips parted, trembling, and for the first time, she looked… lost. Completely lost.

Her fingers loosened. The defiance in her eyes flickered, then went out.

She swayed slightly.

“Aria—”

Before I could move, her knees gave out.

I caught her before she hit the floor, my hands slipping under her arms just in time. Her body went limp in my hold, her head falling against my chest.

“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath.

She was out cold.

I stood there for a moment, her small frame heavy in my arms, her breath warm against my collar. For someone who could fight so fiercely, she felt almost weightless now—fragile in a way I wasn’t used to seeing her.

Carefully, I lifted her. Her head rested against my shoulder, her hair brushing my jaw as I carried her to the bed. I laid her down gently, pulling the blanket up to her chin.

She looked peaceful now. Like none of what had just happened had ever existed.

I stood there, staring at her. My pulse still hadn’t slowed. My hands were still shaking faintly from the adrenaline.

What the hell was that?

This girl—this impossible, stubborn girl—had just crossed a line neither of us could ever come back from. And I almost let her.

Almost.

I ran a hand over my face, trying to steady my breathing. My jaw ached from how hard I was clenching it.

I told myself it was just the job. Protect her. Keep her safe. Nothing more. That’s what I was here for. That’s all this was.

But the truth was heavier than that.

Because when I looked at her lying there—face soft, lashes wet, hands curled into the blanket—I didn’t see just the spoiled daughter of a powerful man. I saw someone breaking under the weight of loss and pretending she wasn’t. Someone who fought so hard to stay angry just so she wouldn’t have to feel pain.

And I hated that I understood it.

Her lips moved slightly, a faint whisper escaping before she slipped deeper into sleep.

“Don’t leave,” she murmured.

The sound of it stopped me cold.

Her hand, still half-buried under the blanket, reached out blindly—and found mine.

Her fingers curled weakly around my wrist, holding on like the world was slipping away.

I froze, staring down at her.

She wasn’t awake. But her voice—broken, small—made something inside me twist painfully.

“Please,” she whispered again, barely audible. “Don’t go.”

I should’ve pulled my hand away. I should’ve walked out and shut the door and pretended none of this had happened.

But for a long moment, I didn’t move.

Her grip was faint but real. Her skin warm against mine. And for reasons I didn’t want to understand, I couldn’t bring myself to break it.

I let her hold on.

Just for a few seconds.

Just long enough to remember that under all that fire and pride, she was still just a girl who’d lost too much.

When her breathing evened out again, I gently freed my hand. She didn’t stir.

I pulled the blanket higher, tucking it around her shoulders. Then I stepped back, forcing myself to put space between us.

The room was quiet, the kind of quiet that pressed against your chest. Outside, the rain had stopped. A faint breeze moved through the curtains, carrying the cold air with it.

I looked at her one last time. Her face was softer now, stripped of the sharp edges she always wore like armor. For the first time since I met her, she didn’t look defiant or angry. She just looked… human.

And that was dangerous.

I needed to remember who I was. What I was.

Not her friend. Not her comfort.

Her bodyguard.

That was it.

I turned toward the door. My hand lingered on the knob for a second too long.

Then I forced it open.

The hallway was quiet except for the faint hum of the house settling into its silence. I stepped out, closing the door behind me with a soft click.

I took a deep breath, running a hand through my hair.

“Boundaries,” I muttered under my breath. “Boundaries are boundaries.”

The words were supposed to steady me. To remind me what mattered.

But as I walked away from that room, every step felt heavier. Like I was leaving behind something I shouldn’t have wanted—but did anyway.

I could still feel her fingers on my wrist. Her voice echoing in my head.

Don’t go.

I shook it off, tightening my jaw. Feelings had no place in this job. Not here. Not with her.

She was my responsibility. My command. Nothing more.

Still, as I reached the end of the hallway, I found myself glancing back once—just once—toward her door.

I told myself it was instinct. That I was just checking to make sure she was safe.

But deep down, I knew better.

There was something about that girl—something in her fire, her grief, her defiance—that got under my skin no matter how hard I tried to fight it.

And that scared me more than anything.

Because in this house, weakness could get you killed.

And Aria? She was quickly becoming mine.