Katherine stood by the curb with her small luggage case, checking her watch for the third time. It was late evening in Positano, the last gold of the sun dissolving into the horizon. The air carried the briny scent of the sea, the chatter of tourists, the occasional rumble of a Vespa down the narrow street.
She wasn't impatient, not really. But waiting gave her mind too much room to wander, and too much wandering always pulled her back to Sinclair Dynamics and the vultures waiting there.
A tall figure approached, hands in his pockets, moving with the easy confidence of someone who had never in his life been rushed. Alessandro.
"You pack light," Alessandro said.
She looked up. He wore the same ease he always seemed to carry, hands in his pockets as if the whole world moved on his time.
"I don't plan on staying long," she answered.
"Most people don't." He glanced at the case again. "Though most women I've known couldn't survive a weekend with less than three bags."
Katherine arched a brow. "And you've known so many?"
"Enough to notice the pattern," he said, dry, his accent soft enough that one could miss it if they weren't paying attention.
She didn't laugh, but the corner of her mouth twitched.
---
The cab arrived. They slid into the backseat.
For a moment there was only the hum of the engine. Then Alessandro tilted his head toward her.
"What's your full name?" she asked suddenly, more brusque than intended.
He paused, as if considering how much to give. Then: "Alessandro Vittore."
"Just Vittore?"
"That's enough," he replied, meeting her gaze with something that almost dared her to press further.
Katherine didn't. But she filed it away.
The rest of the drive passed mostly in silence. She didn't try to force conversation, and he didn't offer it.
---
The plane ride stretched long. Katherine tried to focus on the files on her tablet, but his presence was steady beside her. Calm. Unbothered. Eventually, she shut it off with a sigh.
"Work?" he asked, without looking up from the book in his hand.
"Always."
"That's unhealthy."
"You sound like my aunt."
"Smart woman, then."
Katherine gave him a sidelong look. "You don't even know her."
"Don't need to. If she tells you to stop working, I already agree with her."
She shook her head, but something about the way he said it—light, not judgmental—pulled her into answering.
"My family thinks I'm too young. Too inexperienced. Every move I make is dissected."
"That means they're paying attention," he said smoothly. "If you were truly incompetent, they'd ignore you until you made a mistake."
Katherine blinked, caught off guard. "That's… an interesting perspective."
"It's true." He turned a page. "No one fights over a chair that doesn't matter."
Silence lingered. She hated to admit it, but he wasn't wrong.
---
By the time they landed, she realized she'd said more to this man than she had to anyone in months.
The ride to her penthouse was quieter, though Alessandro's presence had a weight to it, as if he was comfortable letting silence work in his favor.
"Do you ever run out of things to say?" Katherine asked at last.
"Only when I choose not to speak."
"And when is that?"
"When silence does the work for me."
She almost smiled again. Almost.
---
The penthouse opened with a quiet chime of security locks. The elevator let them out directly into a spacious living room lined with tall windows. City lights glittered against the sleek marble floors and muted, modern décor.
Alessandro paused only briefly, his gaze sliding over the place as if taking in every detail yet dismissing it all the same.
"Minimalist," he said.
"Efficient," she corrected.
He tilted his head. "Or lonely."
Her jaw tightened. "It's practical."
"Practical can still be lonely," he said, unbothered.
Katherine set her bag down. "Do you always analyze everything?"
"Only the things worth analyzing."
"And I'm worth analyzing?"
He didn't answer. Not directly. Just poured himself a glass of water from the bar and sipped.
---
The next morning, sunlight poured across the kitchen counter where she sat with a cup of coffee. A plate of breakfast she hadn't cooked waited between them, courtesy of the live-in staff who'd already discreetly withdrawn. Alessandro sat opposite her, sipping from his cup without hurry.
"You don't cook," he remarked.
"I can. I don't."
"Too busy?"
"Too many other things to manage."
He leaned back slightly, studying her over the rim of his cup. "Then one day, you should. Not for anyone else. Just to see what happens when the Chairwoman takes her hands off the empire and into something as… ordinary as boiling water."
Her brows rose. "That's a strange suggestion."
"Strange doesn't mean wrong."
Katherine exhaled, sliding a folder across the table. "Enough small talk. Read this."
Alessandro opened it. His gaze flicked over the words. Marriage license. Everything prepared.
"You don't waste time," he said mildly.
"I can't afford to."
"You had this ready before we even left Italy?"
"I knew your name last night. That's all I needed."
He set the folder down, his eyes lingering on her face. "Most people take months to prepare this."
"I'm not most people."
"That," he said with the faintest smirk, "is obvious."
Katherine tapped the signature line. "Well?"
He picked up the pen. No hesitation. Just signed, and set it back down.
"Now," he said, sliding the paper back to her, "we're official."
Katherine wrapped her fingers around her cup, hiding the way her pulse had quickened.
He was calm. Too calm. And yet somehow, he made her feel as if she was the one who'd just leapt into the unknown.
---
To be continued...