The morning sunlight slanted through the sheer curtains, casting golden lines across the hotel room floor. Dust motes danced lazily in the air, floating like suspended magic in the quiet morning stillness. The city outside was just beginning to stir—a low hum of distant traffic, the occasional car horn, and the echo of footsteps on the sidewalk below. But in the cocoon of the room, it was warm, quiet, and still.
Alejandro's lashes fluttered against his cheeks as his consciousness surfaced. He blinked, slowly adjusting to the mellow light, his vision blurring then focusing again. He turned his head slightly on the plush pillow, groaning softly as he stretched out a hand to rub the remnants of sleep from his eyes.
And then he felt it.
A warm leg draped over his waist, an arm flung across his chest. Rose.
He didn't need to open his eyes to know. Her presence was as chaotic and familiar as the scent of roses lingering in the air—the faint smell of her shampoo, of something spicy and sweet. His mouth curved into a sleepy smile as he opened his eyes fully and looked down at the woman sprawled halfway across him like a human starfish.
"Typical," he murmured under his breath, voice laced with amusement. "She still sleeps like an octopus."
He'd forgotten how much of a bed hog she was. Or maybe he just chose to forget it. Her limbs always managed to find the most inconvenient spots—an elbow in the ribs, a knee on the thigh, or like now, her entire weight leaning comfortably into his side.
A chuckle rumbled in his chest as he gently lifted her leg off of him, trying not to disturb her.
But she stirred.
Her nose scrunched adorably, and her eyes fluttered open—dark lashes parting to reveal sleep-drenched eyes. "Morning," he said, his voice rough and deep with sleep.
Rose let out a soft yawn, stretching her arms up over her head, her red curls tumbling messily around her shoulders. "Morning," she mumbled, her voice hoarse but oddly musical. She ran a hand through her wild hair, attempting to tame it with no real effort.
Alejandro watched her fondly. For a moment, they were just two people waking up in the same bed—not the princess of sarcasm and a powerful man. Not soldiers of an underworld empire. Just Alejandro and Rose.
"Did you sleep well?" he asked, shifting to lean back against the headboard.
"Like a baby," she replied with a yawn, then blinked at him. "You're too soft, you know that? Your bed is too damn comfortable."
He snorted. "Forgive me for offering you luxury, your highness."
With a grunt, she pushed the covers off and moved to slide off the bed. Naturally, she rolled right over him in the process, her knee jabbing into his stomach.
He groaned. "Can you not abuse me before coffee?"
"Nah," she said sweetly, smirking at him over her shoulder as she padded toward the bathroom in bare feet. Her voice floated back to him, muffled slightly, "Hey, do you have an extra toothbrush in here?"
"Yeah, bottom drawer," he called back.
Alejandro listened to the sound of running water, the squeak of the cabinet, the rhythmic brushing of teeth. He rubbed a hand over his face, then smiled as he heard the shower switch on. Water hitting tile. Rose humming some offbeat tune.
He got out of bed, grabbed a t-shirt, and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window. The skyline of the city stretched out before him—steel and glass glittering under the growing morning light. The view from the hotel was stunning. Expensive. A place suited for men like him.
Men like Nikolai.
He frowned at the thought.
By the time Rose emerged from the bathroom, her skin glowing from the shower, her hair brushed but untamed, her curls spilling around her face like a fire halo, Alejandro had already brewed coffee. She was wearing that dress that she was wearing last night. Her expression was sour.
"Making a mental note to set his study on fire," she muttered as she walked barefoot across the polished floors. "This dress is war."
Alejandro chuckled, handing her a mug. "I think it's kind of flattering."
She narrowed her eyes. "You would."
He took a sip from his own mug, the silence between them easy and familiar. It felt like old times. Before the danger. Before the blood. Before Nikolai.
"Are you staying over for breakfast?" he asked.
She glanced out the window, lips twitching. "Tempting, but no. I think I'll pass. I have to go back before that emotionally constipated bastard starts looking for me."
Alejandro didn't argue. He simply nodded and set his coffee down. Then he walked to the dresser and pulled open a drawer. From within, he took out a thick stack of cash. It was bound neatly. Crisp notes.
He turned and handed it to her without ceremony. "It should last you for a while."
She blinked, eyebrows arching. "This is...a lot."
"Just take it."
She flipped through it casually, but her eyes flickered with something softer. "You know, you are the most generous man on earth. I envy your future wife."
He smiled faintly. "Don't make it sound so tragic."
She looked at him, serious for a moment. "And if he hurts you—ever—don't hesitate to tell me."
He said it simply. Steady and sure. Like a promise carved in stone.
"You planning to come to my rescue, Prince Charming?"
"Only if you let me," he replied, dry.
She laughed. It was warm, unguarded, real. Alejandro moved to the door, and she followed, the click of her heels echoing softly. As they walked down the hallway, she didn't speak. Neither did he. It wasn't awkward. It never was between them. Their silences were fluent.
The elevator dinged as it arrived, and they stepped in. The mirrored walls reflected their image back at them—him in loose slacks and a t-shirt, her in the dress that clung to her curves. She rolled her eyes at the reflection.
"I look like I'm headed to a mafia-themed wedding. Or a strip club."
Alejandro snorted. "You're dramatic."
"And you're blind."
When the doors opened into the opulent hotel lobby, a few guests turned to glance at them. Rose walked with confidence, unaffected by the stares, while Alejandro trailed just half a step behind, watching her.
Outside, the morning was brighter, the sky a soft shade of blue streaked with white clouds. The heat of the city had not yet set in.
Alejandro walked her to the curb where a yellow cab was waiting. He opened the door for her.
She turned to him, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Try not to miss me too much."
He smirked. "Try not to burn down Nikolai's penthouse. Or Nikolai."
She gave a mock sigh. "No promises."
Then she stepped into the cab, closed the door, and with one last wave through the open window, she was gone.
Alejandro stood there for a long moment, watching the cab vanish into the rush of the waking city.
And only then, did he turn and walk back inside.