23. IL mio amore

23. IL mio amore
Sometimes it's not the song that makes you emotional it's people and things that comes to your mind when you heart it.

GABRIELLA

The hours had slipped by unnoticed as I worked, completely absorbed in the financials spread across my laptop screen. Alejandro’s monthly report needed to be flawless, and I had spent the entire morning carefully compiling the data, readying it for his accountant. The meticulousness required left me drained, but there was no room for error.

Just as I felt the weight of the day pressing down on me, my eyes caught the small icon blinking on the screen—it was lunchtime. The relief was instant. I quickly shut my laptop, the thought of food giving me a much-needed reprieve from the numbers swimming in my head, and headed to the cafeteria.

I ordered two meals—steak for me, spaghetti and meatballs for Alejandro. As I walked back, the trays balancing in my hands, I couldn’t help but feel the familiar ache of fatigue in my limbs. The morning had taken its toll, and I was eager for a break. I reached Alejandro’s office, knocked twice, and stepped in.

He was on a call, his voice low, smooth, and serious. I froze for a second, watching him. The way his dark hair was sleeked back, his sharp, narrow eyes focused intently on whatever business he was handling, and that deep, rich Mexican accent that never failed to send an involuntary thrill through me. Sitting behind his desk, he looked every bit the powerful man in control of his world, commanding attention effortlessly.

I shook myself out of my thoughts and busied myself setting the food on the small table near his desk. I wasn’t in the mood for conversation anyway. The hunger gnawing at me demanded my full attention, and I dove into my meal as soon as he joined me. The silence between us was comfortable—neither of us needing to fill the space with idle chatter.

Halfway through the meal, Alejandro’s voice broke the quiet. “I forgot to mention, we’re heading to Italy tomorrow. Make sure you’re ready.”

His words caught me off guard. Italy? Tomorrow? My fork paused mid-air as I processed his words. But before I could ask for more details, he smiled, as if the trip was nothing out of the ordinary, and returned to his food. I nodded, swallowing down both my surprise and my meal. There was no room for delay. The rest of the day was already planned.

By 6 pm, I had finished up at my workstation, carefully clearing everything away. I knocked on his office door—it had become our routine to leave together, traveling back and forth from his mansion. Within five minutes, Alejandro joined me, his movements precise, methodical. We reached home by 7 pm, the evening settling in with a soft darkness.

Once inside, I headed straight for my room, craving the comfort of a shower after the long day. The hot water eased the tension from my muscles, and I lingered, savoring the warmth. Finally dressed in something more comfortable, I knew I couldn’t relax just yet. The trip to Italy loomed, and I couldn’t afford to overlook a single detail.

Alejandro had no patience for mistakes, and the thought of being on the receiving end of his frustration was enough to keep me focused. I retrieved my modest suitcase and began the task of packing—outfits for every occasion, lingerie, accessories, anything I might need for an international trip. It took two hours of meticulous organization before everything was finally in place.

By the time I finished, it was almost 10 pm. I opted for a light dinner—just some empanadas and a bowl of chicken broth, enough to tide me over without leaving me feeling heavy. I brushed my teeth, put on a soothing sleep playlist on Spotify, and settled into bed. My mind was already racing with thoughts of tomorrow, of flights and schedules, of Rome and what the next few days might bring.

But for now, sleep was a priority. I had to be up at 5 am, the flight leaving at 7. Tomorrow, Italy awaited.

The next thing I remember was the piercing sound of the alarm breaking the early morning silence. I jolted awake, my heart racing as the day’s importance crashed over me. Italy. I had to be ready by 6 a.m. for our flight, no time to waste. I sped through my morning routine, brushing my teeth and packing away the last of my toiletries with a practiced efficiency.

Choosing comfort over formality for the long journey ahead, I slipped into a brown top and white denim shorts, pairing them with white boot heels for a touch of style. My hair was tied back loosely with a scarf, and I grabbed my white backpack, stuffing it with my essentials—passport, wallet, phone charger, the works. The outfit might not have been the most professional, but I wanted something easy to move in for the long hours of travel ahead.

Satisfied with my choices, I hurried downstairs. Alejandro was already waiting for me, seated casually on the couch in the living room. His smile caught me off guard, warm and relaxed as he greeted me. "Good morning," he said, and I echoed the sentiment.

What really surprised me was his outfit—he was dressed down, almost uncharacteristically so, in a white polo shirt and brown trousers. He looked effortlessly good, his dark hair freshly shaved, his face clean and bright. I found myself stealing glances at him, my mind struggling to reconcile this laid-back, relaxed version of him with the sharp, controlled Alejandro I was used to.

We slipped into his red Mercedes E-Class, where Carlos, his driver, was already waiting. The drive to Guadalajara airport was smooth, the car humming quietly as we made our way through the city. Alejandro remained calm, his hand resting casually on the armrest, looking out the window. I couldn't help but notice how different he seemed today—unburdened, almost carefree.

As we approached the private terminal reserved for Mexico's elite, the grandeur of the Cessna Citation X came into view. Its sleek, white body gleamed in the morning light, and my eyes widened in awe.

Alejandro noticed, his voice breaking through my thoughts. “Do you like it?”

“It’s fantastic,” I replied, trying to keep the excitement in my voice from showing too much.

He grinned, clearly enjoying my reaction. “Wait until you see the inside.”

The ramp lowered, and we ascended into the jet’s elegant interior. The moment I stepped inside, I was hit by the rich scent of polished mahogany wood. The seating area was plush, done in soft, pure leather that practically invited you to sink into it. The space was expansive, luxurious but not overwhelming, with ample room to stretch out—a far cry from the cramped quarters of commercial flights. There was even a private section, complete with a bed, a dining space, and an area to sit and relax. It felt more like a penthouse in the sky than an airplane.

“What do you think?” Alejandro asked again, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he watched my reaction.

“It’s even better!” I said, my voice bubbling with excitement. On the inside, I remained composed—I had seen private jets and luxury up close before. But I needed to maintain the illusion of a background that wasn’t quite so accustomed to wealth.

As we settled in, the pilot’s voice came over the intercom, announcing that we would be taking off in five minutes. I leaned back in the spacious leather seat, feeling the plane hum to life beneath us.

An air hostess appeared moments later, gliding through the aisle with practiced elegance. She was all smiles, her voice dripping with sweetness as she addressed Alejandro, “Sir, what can I get you?”

Her gaze lingered a bit too long on him, her tone far too flirtatious for my liking, and I felt a sharp, inexplicable pang of jealousy tighten my chest. I didn’t know why I felt that way, but it was undeniable.

"Some breakfast, please," Alejandro replied politely, his attention still on me, unaware of the silent tension bubbling within me.

Within minutes, the hostess returned, carrying plates of egg quiche, chocolate muffins, and a fresh bacon salad, followed by a steaming kettle of black coffee. The rich aroma of the food filled the cabin, and despite the earlier awkwardness, I felt my mood lighten.

As the plane leveled off, we settled into the quiet hum of the flight. I let the rich aroma of the coffee and the warmth of the breakfast ease the tension that had built in me. Alejandro seemed perfectly relaxed, his posture effortlessly calm as he forked through his egg quiche, occasionally glancing at me with that easy smile of his. I tried to focus on my own plate, but my mind wandered back to the air hostess.

She was back before long, this time with two fresh cups of coffee. Her hips swayed exaggeratedly as she walked down the aisle, her gaze fixed on Alejandro like he was the only person on board. As she approached, her eyes sparkled with a flirtatious glint that made my stomach twist.

"Here you go, sir," she purred, bending just a little too close to Alejandro as she handed him the coffee. Her fingers lingered on the cup, brushing against his hand. She smiled, wide and suggestive, before straightening up. "Is there anything else I can get you? Anything at all?"

Her voice dripped with suggestion, and I felt my fist clench on the armrest, my jaw tightening. She was completely ignoring me, as if I didn’t even exist. The blatant disregard made the jealousy simmer just beneath my skin, hot and sharp.

Alejandro, oblivious or maybe simply indifferent to her advances, thanked her with a polite nod. But the air hostess wasn’t done. She leaned in closer, this time resting her hand lightly on the back of his chair. “If you need anything, anything at all, don’t hesitate to call me, okay?” Her voice was a sultry whisper.

I tried to focus on my breakfast, pretending I wasn’t bothered, but the truth was gnawing at me. Was he enjoying this? Was he falling for the flirtatious charm she was throwing at him? The thought made my stomach churn. After all, I wasn’t here to admire him. I had come to Alejandro’s world for a reason, a mission. He wasn’t supposed to be someone I cared about.

I wasn’t supposed to feel… jealous.

I tried to remind myself of the goal—to get close enough to Alejandro to gain his trust and then, when the time was right, destroy him from the inside. That had been the plan all along, hadn’t it? But here I was, feeling something I couldn’t quite explain, something I wasn’t supposed to feel. It made me question everything.

Was I really getting attached to the very man I’d come to ruin?

I couldn’t help but glance at Alejandro, who remained composed, sipping his coffee without acknowledging the air hostess’s obvious flirtation. But something in me twisted, wondering if he was just better at hiding his reactions than I was. Did he find her attractive? Was I just another person to him in his world of casual power and wealth, someone easily discarded for the next pretty face?

The air hostess caught me looking at them, and for a split second, her eyes flicked toward me. There was a smugness there, a quiet triumph in the way she smiled as if she knew the effect she was having on me. I swallowed hard, trying to shake off the irrational surge of jealousy that was bubbling to the surface.

Alejandro, ever the picture of composure, finally looked up at her, his expression neutral. "That’ll be all, thank you," he said, his voice firm, signaling the end of the conversation. The air hostess hesitated for a moment, clearly disappointed that her efforts hadn’t landed, but she quickly recovered, offering one last sultry smile before walking away.

I exhaled a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

Alejandro turned his gaze to me, his dark eyes studying me for a moment. I wondered if he noticed the tightness in my expression, the way I had stiffened under the tension. But if he did, he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he smiled, as if nothing had happened, as if the air hostess hadn’t just turned my insides into a knot of insecurity.

"You seem tense," he said casually, raising an eyebrow as he leaned back in his seat. "Everything alright?"

I forced a small laugh, trying to mask the emotions swirling inside me. "Yeah, just tired. It’s been a long morning."

He nodded, seeming to accept the explanation, but his gaze lingered a little too long, as if he wasn’t quite convinced. I turned back to my coffee, avoiding his eyes, trying to calm the storm raging in my head.

The truth was, I didn’t know what was happening. I was supposed to be in control, the one pulling the strings, not getting lost in this strange jealousy that had no place in the game I was playing. But now, sitting next to Alejandro, the man I was supposed to betray, I couldn’t help but wonder…

Was I falling for him? Or was it just the jealousy talking, clouding my judgment?