ROSALINA'S POV"Figlia mia, I'm afraid you will starve yourself without my cooking." Nonna's concerned voice echoed through the phone's speaker as I stood by the stove, a wooden spoon in my hand, gently stirring the rich tomato sauce for the pasta. The aroma filled the kitchen, a fragrant dance of garlic, basil, and home."You have nothing to worry about, Nonna. Of course I'll cook something for myself otherwise, I'll just order takeouts," I continued to stir the sauce, my brow furrowing slightly as I listened to Nonna's concern through the phone. The familiar, comforting scent of simmering tomatoes filled the air, reminding me of Nonna's kitchen. Nonna always had a way of making me feel loved, even from miles away."It's not just about eating to fill your stomach. Take care of yourself, cara. Takeouts and quick fixes can never replace the taste of my cooking." I could almost envision her shaking her head on the other end of the line."And how is your new apartment? Have you adjusted

ROSALINA'S POVMy heart executed a pirouette inside the confines of my chest. His demand tugged at my senses, causing my eyes to widen involuntarily, much like a startled arabesque frozen in time. I found myself trapped by the fiery intensity that blazed within his eyes – a hue reminiscent of aged whiskey. His fingers, firm yet gentle, held my chin, anchoring my gaze to his as if I were a marionette under his masterful control. I bit my lower lip, and his heated gaze slid down my lips. "Alright," I said, my voice turned into a breathy whisper. "Kiss me." A slow smile stretched his lips, those devilish dimples making an appearance. Something seriously mischievous glinted behind that smile, setting my nerves ablaze.He moved in, slow and deliberate, and my eyelids lowered like theater curtains, waiting for his lips to meet mine. But a second ticked by, two seconds, three seconds. Confusion creased my forehead, and I opened my eyes to find him looking down at me with a smirk like he h

Just as our passion threatened to consume us completely, a familiar, infuriating sound shattered the air. The ringing of my phone pierced through the haze of our desire, the jarring intrusion on our intimate moment.Rosalina's eyes, heavy with desire just moments ago, now widened in surprise and frustration. I growled under my breath, torn between wanting to ignore the call and wanting to pick it up to see if it was important or not.With a frustrated sigh, I reluctantly withdrew from her embrace, reaching into my pocket to retrieve my phone. The display showed an incoming call, and I cursed silently at the timing of it all. As much as I wanted to remain lost in the intensity of our connection, duty called.Rosalina watched me, her lips slightly swollen from our kisses, her chest rising and falling with the remnants of desire. The more I watched her, the more I wanted to throw away all the responsibilities I had and go back and lose myself inside her. I fished my phone out of my pock

ROSALINA'S POVLeo hadn't come back to his apartment last night after our argument.For some reason, that idea made me sore to my stomach. After my breakfast of oatmeal and a smoothie, I found myself re-reading the motivational quotes on my walls. They had transformed from beacons of inspiration into mere strings of empty words, taunting my doubts. With a sigh, I left my apartment behind, stepping out into the world outside. I didn't see Leonardo anywhere in sight, even Frankie asked about him and I acted like I wasn't the reason Leonardo had left, maybe to never come back again. Today, the ballet studio beckoned. Its polished floors and grand mirrors seemed to hold promises of escape from my chaotic thoughts. As I entered, the warm smile of Mr. Bennett, the director, greeted me. He had been back after days of his stay in France for a famous performance. "Good to see you again, Alina," His use of the name 'Alina,' a moniker I'd never taken to, washed over me. It was my mother's nam

ROSALINA'S POVThe distant echo of a car passing by outside was the only reminder of the world beyond these walls. I had just returned from a grueling evening at the ballet, my muscles still tingling with the memory of every graceful movement of the white swan. I had avoided Mr. Bennett as much as possible after he kissed me at his office. Being kissed by a man as old as my Papa made my skin crawl, and I had the urge to give my mouth a serious soap-scrubbing session.I stood in the dimly lit hallway, the faint hum of the overhead light casting a warm glow on the worn carpet beneath my feet. The air held a subtle hint of lavender, remnants of the scented candles I had burned earlier. As I fumbled with the strap of my ballet bag, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed down the corridor.Glancing upwards, I caught sight of the apartment door opposite mine creaking open. His presence seemed to fill the narrow hallway, his tall frame dominating the space. The weariness in his eyes was s