Why don't you get a taste?
Golden girl Alison Rivers has it all: brains, looks, money, a father who adores her, and any man she wants... Or so she thought.
When she sets her eyes on Lorenzo Visconti, her academy's Italian, irresistible principal, sh...
QOTC: were Lorenzo's thoughts what you expected them to be? And if not, what did you expect?
I loved all the comments on the last chapter, you all made me laugh so much. I love you. 💖
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I was unable to fall asleep. During dinner, I had overheard Tyler complaining to Justin about how annoying it was to have the principal checking our floor. Considering how they shared the room next to mine, I immediately put two plus two together and realized that fucking Visconti was going to be sleeping just a few feet away from me. Every single night, for a week.
I needed to vent. Or scream. Desperately, I sat up and glanced at my best friend.
Lydia was sprawled on the bed, snoring quietly. She was completely useless at that moment.
I knew about the rules, about how we couldn't leave our rooms past our curfew, but who would have cared if I just slipped out to take a breath of fresh air and stare at the mesmerizing view? I wasn't to blame, Italy's beauty was. So, as soundlessly as possible, I got out of bed, slid my feet into my fluffy slippers, put my silk robe on and opened the door, gently closing it after me.
There weren't any noises coming from the other rooms, and I found myself envying each of the other students, who were peacefully sleeping without a care in the world.
I approached the French window that led to the large terrace and twisted the handle, pushing the window open and sighing once I could feel the delicate wind stroking the skin of my face. I directed myself towards the stone balustrade and admired how tranquil Florence was at this time of the night. Of course, there were people buzzing around, but that was nothing compared to the New York nightlife.
"Miss Rivers?" The voice that haunted both my dreams and nightmares rudely pulled me out of my reverie.
A shiver ran through my body and I whipped around to look at him, feeling like a deer caught in the headlights. "Mr. Visconti I— I'm going to go back to my room right now." I blabbered nervously, trying to cover myself more by pulling my robe over my chest.
Lorenzo stepped closer to me and held me in place by resting his hand on my arm. "You don't have to, I'm not here to scold you." He then did something I would've never expected from him, not anymore. He smiled. "I simply want to talk to you, can I?"
"I think it's better if you don't." I replied coldly, trying to walk away before having some sort of embarrassing meltdown right in front of him. There had been enough of those.
The Italian devil didn't give up, instead, he tightened his grip on my arm. "Alison, please." His tone wasn't demanding, it was somewhat grave.
My mouth was agape as I stared at this man, who was so much more gorgeous than any view and who had just spelled out the word 'please' to me. I closed my mouth and nodded, feeling like a total idiot.
