Rosalia's pov
The moment the jet dips beneath the clouds, Spain hits me like warm breath on my cheek. Sunlight everywhere . The ground looks like someone spilled terracotta and honey across the earth rooftops, hills, all glowing .
The wheels kiss the runway, smooth as a secret, and suddenly am seeing it up close: a private airport that looks nothing like the noisy chaos i imagined. Everything is quiet, sleek. The asphalt still warm from the sun, the air smelling faintly of salt and something sweet—like oranges somewhere nearby just existing.
When the steps lower, heat wraps around me instantly, soft but thick, the wind plays with my hair . The sky feels too wide. The breeze carries this mix of ocean and old cities ,warm stone, sunlight baked into everything.
We descend the steps, Alessio behind me, and my eyes are stuck on the long convoy of SUVs waiting for us just a few meters from the jet.
Men in suits stand outside holding rifles. One of the cars has its doors open and all the men nod upon our arrival. Spain is beautiful, no doubt, and I haven't seen half of it.
Alessio's hand finds the small of my back and I stiffen slightly. The little touches he gives absentmindedly make my heart skip. I look up at him beside me and, just as I thought, he looks lost in his thoughts.
I nudge his side without thinking.
"Cheer up, stone face…," I giggle.
We stop at the car door and I realize what I just did. Alessio doesn't joke around, and now he's glaring at me.
My heart drops when his lips pull into a slight smirk, and I have to say—it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Alessio smiling, world stopping.
"I'll try to…," he shrugs, his voice deep, raspy and playful.
He leads me inside the car at the backseat, rounds to his side, and settles next to me.
I also notice we're seated shoulder-to-shoulder. Normally, we'd sit at the ends of the seats. I don't know why that makes me grin inside.
We relax against the seat and my eyes look outside the window as the car starts moving. It smells like old leather and whisky inside, but what's taking up all my senses is his scent, wrapping around me like a cloud.
As the car rolls out of the gates, everything looks sun-soaked and effortless. Low white buildings, palm trees swaying like they're gossiping, roads lined with bougainvillea bursting in hot pink. The sky is stupidly blue, the kind that makes you squint and smile at the same time.
We pass quiet villas, orange-tiled roofs, and flashes of the sea glimmering in the distance like it's winking at you.
Spain feels warm, open, and low-key showing off. Even the streets look like a vacation. And that reminds me—we're not here for business, rather from what Alessio said, our honeymoon.
His hand rests on my thigh as his other hand types away on his phone. I don't move it because, again, I like how his touch feels.
I internally scold myself because I'm supposed to be getting away ,planning an escape, not feeling warmth and butterflies when he touches me.
A few moments later the car slows down, the sound of gates opening filling the space. I sit up—I was dozing off and didn't even realize it.
"We're here. Tired?" Alessio asks, and I'm actually spooked at the gentleness in his tone.
"Yeah," I whisper as the car door opens and the guard steps to the side.
The villa rises at the edge of the cliff like it knows it owns the whole coastline. All sharp angles and dark stone, the kind of architecture straight out of the movies. Vines climb the walls, not soft or romantic, but controlled—trimmed into perfect lines, like everything here follows someone's rules.
The driveway curves through palm trees that cast long, dramatic shadows. The kind that make you feel watched.
Then I see it: the ocean stretching out behind the villa, massive and glittering, waves smashing the rocks below like applause. Floor-to-ceiling windows face the water, reflecting the sun so intensely it looks like the house is made of liquid gold.
Guards stand at discreet posts, dressed in black, earpieces tucked behind their ears—pretending not to look at you while fully looking at you. The air smells like salt, money, and a hint of whatever trouble lives inside those walls.
Alessio's voice snaps me out of my gawking.
"You like it?" he asks, his hand finding my waist. I don't stiffen like I usually do. Instead, I lean into him, deciding to relish the moment before I escape.
"Yeah, it's so beautiful," I say truthfully, with a smile.
"Ok, let's go…" he says, his hand moving to mine, our fingers lacing together.
We walk up the driveway as I take in the beauty in all this. It's so damn breathtaking this guy has taste, clearly.
The guards open the front doors once we reach the top step, and again I'm dumbstruck by how beautiful it looks inside too.
The foyer is a whole statement: dark marble floors polished so smooth you can see your reflection judging you. Black veined with silver, like someone trapped lightning beneath the surface. The walls are a mix of charcoal stone and deep wood, all sharp lines and clean edges, whispering old money and new power.
A chandelier made of smoked glass hangs overhead, dripping light in slow, golden drops.
Double stairs lined with silver railings and a black carpet coil up like a serpent.
To the right, a sunken living area with low leather couches, dark and buttery-soft. A massive fireplace sits at the center, carved from obsidian stone.
Everywhere you look there's something subtle but expensive ,a rare painting half-hidden behind warm lighting, a bar stocked with bottles that look expensive, and a beautiful modern kitchen.
I'm impressed, really. Alessio clearly has taste, but it's not anything I've never seen before. I grew up in luxury too, but I've gotta admit ,this is one of the most beautiful villas I've ever seen.
"Our room is this way…" he says, dragging me with him as he leads me upstairs.
"Our?" I ask, halting my steps.
He sighs and turns to look at me, and again he is back in his usual sour mood.
"Yes, Raven. Ours. We're married, remember?" he asks, stepping closer and tucking my hair behind my ear.
I want to protest, but I shut my mouth because he has a point, and I don't know what I was expecting.
"Ok…" I simply say.
He nods, impressed clearly by my obedience he's used to me snapping at him, but I'm too tired for that today.
The hallways are cold and silent, nothing on the walls and rooms locked behind doors with silver handles.
We stop in front of a golden-looking door, different from the rest. He turns the knob with my hand still in his.
Inside, it's beautiful. A huge bed draped in dark sheets and a black fluffy duvet sits in the middle of the room on top of a silver-colored fluffy carpet.
A walk-in closet in the corner of the room looks like it's already lined with our clothes. Glass balcony doors, and the balcony overlooks the ocean ,white sheets on the glass doors swing from the light wind.
A couch in the corner, and a table with bottles of whisky.
A door in the corner leads to the bathroom.
Very minimal details, but beautiful.
I tug off my hoodie slowly, careful not to drop my little box with my diamonds, and place it on the couch. I tug down the crop top I had on and freeze when I feel Alessio's hands wrap around me from behind, his head resting in the crook of my neck.
"Finally, I have you all to myself, Raven… no distractions… just us…" his deep voice vibrates through me straight to my core.
He kisses the side of my neck and turns me around in his hold. We hold the stare—his hands on my waist and mine wrapping around his neck because I can't stop myself.
As we stare at each other, tension crackling between us, he leans down to my level, our lips brushing slightly. We don't say a word.
He tugs me closer, our bodies pressed together, his lips finding mine in a hot, possessive kiss that has my eyes rolling.
And as I kiss him back with everything I have, I'm thinking—
Just this once. One last time before I disappear from his world. Forever.