“This property occupies the entire thirteenth floor,” Antonio says behind us. “At a size of two hundred eighty square meters, it’s very elegant and thoughtfully laid out.”
He guides us toward the living space.
“The living room boasts six large windows providing excellent natural light, along with direct access to the terrace.”
I barely hear him because I’m busy picturing the place filled with furniture—soft couches, textured rugs, books stacked on tables—and an army of plants to drink in the sunlight. It would be a crime not to. I’m not above becoming a plant mom while living in Italy.
“And as requested,” Antonio continues, “there are four bedrooms and three bathrooms.”
“Wow,” I manage, still taking everything in.
“Why don’t you take some time to explore? See how the place fits your needs.” He gestures toward the terrace. “I’ll wait outside.”
He steps out and settles into a lounge chair, phone in hand.
“Ready?” Gabriel asks, offering his hand.
I grin and take it. “Ready.”
SIXTEEN
GABRIEL | FLORENCE
I leadher down the hallway, our footsteps soft against the oak floors, and right away I can tell Zalea has fallen in love with this apartment. And surprisingly, so have I. It feels like a real home here, not an overly luxe villa like what I was first planning on buying. This place is somewhere I can see us living for a long time, beyond the one year, if she decides to stay.
I push open the first door, the master bedroom unfolding before us, the terrace-facing windows stretching nearly wall to wall. Zalea steps past me, immediately drawn to them, and I watch the sun spill across her shoulders as she takes in the view of Florence.
The room is spacious, enough for a California king bed. I instantly picture this space filled with our belongings; clothes hung in the wardrobe, books stacked on the nightstand, and her hair across my pillow—a dangerous thought.
“Okay, this is really nice,” she says quietly.
I lean against the doorframe, willing my cock to behave because this isn’t the time or place. “You like it?”
She nods, still scanning the room. “It feels peaceful.”
I nod and take her hand as we move on to the second room. It’s smaller but still bright, with a single wide window thatoverlooks the street below. I step inside, already measuring the walls with my eyes.
“This one’s mine,” I say.
She turns, brows furrowed. “We’re…sleeping in separate rooms?”
I smirk. “Never, baby,” I tug her toward me. “This would be my office.” I gesture around casually. “Somewhere I can pretend to work while actually watching you.”
She laughs. “Very productive.”
“I excel at productivity.”
She shakes her head and slips past me toward the third room. It’s an exact copy of the room that will be my office, but with a more subtle, angled light. She walks in slowly this time, fingertips brushing along the windowsill.
“Then this one’s mine,” she says, looking around the room with a light in her eyes.
“What would you use it for?”
She turns and shrugs. “An art studio, or a library. Honestly, I don’t know but it’s calling out to me.”
“Then it’s yours,” I say without hesitation.
Her smile is small, but it lands somewhere deep in my chest. I take her hand again as we walk toward the final door, and when I open it, we’re met with a modest sized room with warm lighting. We both step in, quiet as we look around.
