⚠️ WARNING : This Chapter contains Erotic scenes.

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"Why did you go there, Salvatore?" I whisper, my voice barely audible amidst the swirling thoughts.

After a good stare at me, he said, "I plan to call you when I have a welcome party," his head tilting, eyes closing as if shrugging his body.

"Stop joking. Apparently, there were still other people living there this morning," I say, confusion clouding my mind. Where did they all go?

Oh wait, the movers were there this morning...

"Don't tell me that those moving trucks I saw this morning..." I start, realization dawning on me. My eyes widen as I realize the truth.

"Correct," he says with a huge smile.

"Today, I moved here," Salvatore announces, his words sinking in slowly, leaving me speechless.

Inside his apartment, I enter and see the beautiful Italian furnishings. "So that... the private thing you wanted to talk about today is this?" I ask, still looking at all the work done so fast.

"You chased the others away and took over their house?" I say, walking ahead, of course without shoes. That's always the rule.

Salvatore loosens his tie slowly, his eyes closing gradually as he pulls it down in a synchronized manner. "Chase away? I dealt with it in a very peaceful manner. Moreover, that person even said that he was very lucky and liked this very much," he says, showing the money sign with his fingers and smiling like an idiot.

My facial expression might be like 'meh' right now.

"No wonder that person called Mario appeared with such a happy face. Just yesterday, the owner opposite came to say hello to me," I say, looking at him, then turning and walking away.

He comes from behind and leans in. "A normal person just leaves and a weird man moves in, so you don't like it?" he says.

"You also admit that you are a weirdo?" I say, chuckling.

His head gently descends onto my shoulder from behind, his warm breath creating a delicate sensation against my skin. As I feel the fluttering of butterflies in my stomach, his presence engulfs me, a comforting warmth spreading through my veins.

Despite my attempts to push him away, it's as though his forehead is magnetically attached to my shoulder. "I don't want to burden you, but I can't bear to leave you alone. You're my wife," he murmurs softly, his voice a tender caress that resonates deep within me.

"You've arranged for so many to protect me," I counter, my hand resting gently on his head, still trying to maintain some distance. Yet, he captures my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine and pulling me closer to him.

"That's precisely the issue. While my bodyguards can see your face every day, it pains me that I cannot," he confesses, his gaze locked onto mine with an intensity that sends shivers down my spine. Our intertwined fingers create a delicate dance, and the touch of his ring against my skin ignites a spark of warmth and belonging.

I had a sense that Salvatore had been eagerly anticipating this moment, yet now, it's as if I've been the one delaying our reunion.

The next morning, his call breaks through the haze of sleep. "Did you sleep well? I've already prepared breakfast. Come and eat, Bella," his voice reaches me, finding me still nestled in the warmth of my bed, hair tousled and disheveled.

"Alright, I'm coming," I respond, rising from the bed, still clad in my night attire. Crossing the threshold into Salvatore's apartment requires passing through two imposing doors, a journey that feels significant in its simplicity.

"Good morning," I greet him with a voice thick with the remnants of sleep, my eyes taking in the sight of the meticulously set table.

"You've prepared all this since early morning?" I marvel, as he settles into his chair, looking effortlessly composed in his neutral-toned attire.

"It only takes me a few minutes to whip up these dishes for us, Bella," he replies with a hint of pride in his voice.

"So good," I remark between mouthfuls, feeling grateful for the nourishment even as I realize I haven't yet brushed my hair, save for washing my face and attending to my teeth.

Since moving into the house opposite mine, Salvatore has made it his routine to ensure I don't succumb to boredom so he calls me. He rouses me from sleep, insists I partake in breakfast before heading to work, and at midday, he appears with a boxed lunch at my pharmacy. In the evening, he waits for me, my favorite soup simmering on the stove, a silent yet steadfast presence in my life.

A/N: He's a man of many facets, with his own company and ties to the mafia, yet here he is, cooking for our Valentina. It's enough to make any girl swoon. Never settle for less, ladies, but remember, make yourself worthy of him too.

As I entered his house, a smile crept onto my face, and I couldn't help but blush.

Seeing him in that apron, well, let's just say it stirred up more than just hunger. "Good job, tonight's dinner is corn soup and fried rice," he announced, his cheeks tinged with a rosy hue.

Am I married, or have I hired a helper who's not only a master in the kitchen but also exudes such charm?

"We're like a married couple," he said sweetly, his words warming my heart.

"A couple is a couple, neighbor-cousin couple," I teased, taking a sip of the soup.

"Isn't it just a modifier word for a couple?" he retorted, laughter twinkling in his eyes.

And there we were, laughing together, lost in our own little world

A/N: god knows what they are even talking about

In addition, there are still many modifier words for this, like "marriage contract of husband and wife," "weekend couple"... Although this is an unusual husband and wife relationship.

The longer we spend together, the more we look like a real couple.

As Salvatore and I sit on the sofa, clinking our glasses of alcohol and watching TV together, I take a sip of my drink and confess, "Sal, I completely forgot about that day."

He glances at me from the corner of his eyes. "That day?"

"The first time we met... it was at the funeral," I say, feeling a pang of nostalgia.

"Oh, was it your grandfather's funeral?" he asks, his tone soft with understanding.

S

"There were a lot of mafias and gangsters among the sinister elders, but a girl of the same age caught my eye," I explain, my voice laced with a mixture of reminiscence and concern.

Her face clearly showed she was forced to come

V

"I remember it..." I say, my voice trailing off as the memories flood back.

"Maybe it's because I hate the mafia," I add, my tone laced with bitterness and disdain.

Flashback-(also their convo in between)

"Did they come here to have fun at the funeral?" I ask Salvatore, my confusion evident in my voice.

As the situation escalates, my father's drunken antics disturb the solemnity of the occasion. "Those are the things I shouldn't have to witness," I murmur to Salvatore, a mix of frustration and embarrassment coloring my words.

Alessandro's fury erupts as he grabs the other man's collar, his words dripping with aggression. "Bastard, are you looking at me?" he growls, his voice filled with menace.

The tension escalates as trouble brews among those seated nearby, their similar personalities igniting a powder keg of conflict. What begins as minor friction soon spirals into a full-blown brawl, chaos erupting as fists fly and tempers flare. The situation takes a horrifying turn when a knife is drawn, and screams pierce the air as the man's hands are cut.

The room descends into darkness, panic spreading like wildfire. "Ahhhhhh!" the terrified cries echo, the fear palpable in the air.

Amidst the chaos, confusion reigns as voices clamor for answers. "Where did the lights go?" "What's happening?" "Who did that?!" the men shout, their voices a chorus of alarm.

In the midst of the turmoil, a small figure emerges, her actions commanding attention as she flicks on the lights. "Someone died," she declares, her words cutting through the chaos like a knife. "What? You little brat!" a man exclaims, his anger flaring in response.

Undeterred, she meets their glares with defiant eyes, her voice ringing out with accusation. "You are afraid that the dead will be alone, so you all wish to follow?" she challenges, her words a scathing indictment of their behavior.

Present-

"I fell in love with you right at that time," he confesses, his hand fisted on his head as he supports it, his gaze fixed on me.

"I can't forget the first time I saw you, Bella," he continues, his words washing over me like a gentle wave.

Really? My heart races as his words sink in, and I instinctively hug my body, feeling a shiver run down my spine at the memory he invokes.

"There are so many memories I want to forget, that day included, and all the days before I turned 20, the days when I couldn't live the way I wanted," I confess, hugging my body tightly as I sink into the sofa.

"In that memory, there were about two times I appeared in your life," he says as the alcohol can drops empty beside us.

"So what?" I retort, trying to mask the vulnerability his words evoke.

But then he gently holds my head and brings our foreheads together, our cheeks flushed with warmth. "It's okay for you to forget about it," he murmurs, his voice low and seductive as he leans in to kiss me softly. "Because I already remember it all, Bella," he whispers against my lips, his touch igniting a fire within me.

As Salvatore leans in, his lips meet mine with a hunger that ignites a fire within me. Our mouths meld together in a passionate embrace, tongues dancing and intertwining in a sensual tango. With each movement, sparks fly between us, electrifying the air around us.

He presses me back against the sofa, his hands firmly gripping my waist, pulling me closer to him. I can feel the heat radiating from his body, his touch setting my skin ablaze with desire. His other hand finds its way to the nape of my neck, holding me gently but possessively as he deepens the kiss.

I respond eagerly, my fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer to me as our bodies meld together in a heated embrace. His lips explore every inch of mine, leaving trails of fire in their wake. I gasp as his tongue delves deeper into my mouth, sending waves of pleasure coursing through me.

Our legs entwine, our bodies pressed flush against each other as the intensity of the kiss builds. I can feel the urgency in his movements, the raw desire that drives him to devour me whole. It's as if we're lost in our own little world, consumed by the heat of our passion.

The kiss becomes a symphony of desire, each movement orchestrated with precision and finesse.

"But Bella, don't forget the things after we meet," he says, his voice a husky whisper against my lips.

In response, our kisses deepen, becoming more urgent, more fervent. With each exchange, our passion intensifies, fueling a hunger that demands to be sated.

I trail kisses along the curve of his jaw, tasting the salt-sweet essence of his skin. My lips brush against his eyelids, his nose, his cheeks, each touch a declaration of my desire for him.

His hands roam over my body, igniting sparks of pleasure wherever they touch. I gasp as he leaves a trail of kisses down my neck, his teeth grazing my skin in a deliciously sinful caress.

In a bold display of desire, I nip at his earlobe, eliciting a low groan of pleasure from deep within his throat. He responds in kind, his mouth finding mine once more in a fervent embrace.

Our tongues dance in a passionate tango, each movement a symphony of desire. I feel his teeth graze my lip, a teasing reminder of the passion that simmers between us.

With a boldness born of desire, I press my body against his, feeling the heat of his skin searing through the fabric of our clothes. Our breath mingles in the air, a heady mixture of passion and longing.

TV audio in background: "Please let me keep this memory just this one"

A/N: How did you find this chapter ?

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