The sound of the heavy gates opening echoed across the quiet estate.
Alessia, who had been standing by the window, froze. For a moment, she thought her mind was playing tricks on her again — that she was imagining the sound she missed the most.
But then she saw him.
Lorenzo.
He stepped through the gate, his black coat swaying in the wind, his eyes scanning the place like a man who had been gone for years.
Something inside her chest shifted — something warm, wild, and terrifying.
Before she even realized it, her feet moved on their own.
She ran.
The guards looked startled as she rushed past them, her heartbeat loud and uneven. When she reached the gate, she stopped for half a second — then threw herself into his arms.
Lorenzo caught her, stunned. For a man who faced wars and betrayal without flinching, that single touch broke through every wall he had built. Her scent, her warmth, her trembling hands pressed against him… it was too real to deny.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
She could hear his heartbeat — steady, strong, dangerously close.
Then realization hit her like thunder.
What was she doing?
She quickly pulled away, eyes wide, heart racing faster than before. "I— I don't know what came over me," she stammered, her voice shaky. Without waiting for his reaction, she turned and ran back inside the house, her face burning.
Inside her room, she pressed her back against the door, trying to calm her breathing.
"What did I just do?" she whispered to herself. "Why did I hug him? Why him of all people?"
Before she could find an answer, the door opened.
Lorenzo walked in, his presence filling the room like a quiet storm.
"Someone really missed me," he said, his voice low and teasing.
She turned away quickly, pretending to fix her hair, her cheeks still flushed. "No, I didn't. Don't flatter yourself. I thought you were my dad, that's all!" she snapped, trying to hide the tremor in her voice.
He chuckled softly. "Your dad? That's the best lie you've ever told, Alessia."
She turned to face him, ready to say something, but her words died the moment she met his gaze. His eyes — dark, deep, unreadable — were locked on hers.
In two slow steps, he closed the distance between them.
Her heart stopped.
"Lorenzo…" she whispered, unsure if she wanted to move closer or farther away.
He didn't answer.
He simply reached for her, his hand sliding to the back of her neck with a gentleness she never expected from a man like him.
"Every queen," he murmured, voice brushing against her lips, "needs a king."
And before she could speak, he kissed her.
It wasn't soft. It wasn't careful.
It was everything they'd been denying — fierce, full of all the confusion, the danger, the forbidden longing that had been growing between them.
Her hands gripped his shirt as if trying to push him away, but she didn't. Instead, she kissed him back — matching his fire with her own.
When they finally pulled apart, both were breathing hard.
Lorenzo looked at her with a faint, almost broken smile. "You see, my queen," he whispered, "some wars aren't fought with guns."
She couldn't find the strength to reply. Her heart was already doing all the talking.