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Alessio's POV:
The screen flickered as the live meeting connected.
A dozen windows popped up—faces from all over the country. Department heads. Regional leads. Analysts. Every man and woman silent, watching him, waiting for their King to speak. He adjusted his glasses with a low sigh and sat back in the leather chair, the silver Romano crest gleaming behind him on the office wall.
"Proceed with the fiscal updates," he said, voice low, cool, commanding.
The drone of numbers filled the room. Budgets. Territories. Warehouses. Gun shipments. The usual. Alessio barely flinched as men discussed millions like it was pocket change. His gaze remained hard, posture straight, shirt sleeves pushed to his elbows.
The mafia empire didn't pause.
But something inside him had.
Ever since the marriage—ever since he became his.
24 hour's , 120 minutes , 78seconds
Noah.
A complication wrapped in trembling hands and stormy eyes. An unwilling bride with defiance on his tongue and softness in his touch. Alessio tried to focus. He really did.
Until the door creaked open.
His jaw ticked. His eyes lifted slowly.
And then—he saw him.
Noah stood at the door, barefoot, holding a pair of grey trousers and a silky white shirt. His hair was damp from the shower, falling in messy strands over his forehead. His lips were parted, like he'd been biting them nervously, and his eyes…
Fuck.
He looked like a lost kitten.
A kitten with sharp claws.
Noah stepped in boldly, unaware—or uncaring—that Alessio was mid-meeting. His eyes weren't on the screen. They were locked on him.
"Tell me what I should wear," he said, voice small, unsure.
The audacity. Alessio felt half the boardroom on screen blink in confusion.
But for some reason, Alessio couldn't be angry.
The shirt he was wearing clung to him, emphasizing his slim waist. His arms hugged the bundle of fabric like he didn't know what to do with it. And he was so clearly nervous—so clearly trying.
Alessio clicked his mic off.
Paused the meeting.
And stood up slowly.
"Wear the white shirt with those pants," he said calmly. "Tuck it in. It suits you."
Noah blinked, startled by his tone.
Even Alessio was startled by his own softness.
He didn't explain. He didn't need to. He sat back down and resumed the meeting like nothing happened, but his mind was far from figures and contracts.
Then—it happened again.
Fifteen minutes later, the door opened a second time.
Alessio turned, already knowing who it was.
Noah entered, now wearing the outfit Alessio suggested… and looking good enough to ruin. But his expression was pouty. Displeased.
He stormed in like a hurricane, cheeks flushed, eyes narrowed.
"I look like a child. Or worse, like I've been kidnapped by a mafia boss. What kind of taste do you have, huh?!"
The entire board froze on the screen.
Alessio exhaled through his nose. He should've been furious. He should've barked at Noah to get out. But instead, he stood again.
Paused the meeting.
And walked toward him.
"Come with me," he muttered.
He didn't wait for a response. He grabbed Noah by the wrist—not roughly, but firmly—and dragged him out of the office and back into the bedroom. He opened the closet, flipped through clothes, and pulled out a sleek black turtleneck and dark jeans.
"Wear this," Alessio said, handing it to him. "It makes you look expensive. Soft." "Mine" He mumbles to himself.
Noah opened his mouth to protest, but Alessio had already turned away.
Back to the meeting. Again.
Except… not for long.
Because Noah came back a third time.
This time, Alessio didn't even hear the door.
He only looked up because he felt it—the shift in the air. The pull in his chest.
Noah stood at the door again, shirt half-buttoned, sleeves rolled up, collar wide and tempting. His brows were furrowed, fingers curled like he was battling his own reflection for the past twenty minutes.
He looked frustrated. Tired. But beautiful.
Alessio paused mid-sentence. His mic was still on. The employees were still watching.
He stood up slowly.
"Fuck this meeting," he muttered.
Before Noah could speak, Alessio grabbed him.
One hand slid to his waist, pulling him close. The other tilted his chin slightly up.
Noah's eyes widened.
"W-What are you—"
But Alessio didn't give him time. He turned him around and made him face the screen full of shocked executives.
"Apologies, gentlemen," Alessio said smoothly, wrapping both arms around Noah's waist.
The camera caught it all—his hands, possessive and sure, resting on Noah's stomach. His mouth just beside Noah's ear.
"But it seems my wifey needs me more than this meeting right now."
Noah gasped. Wifey?! He tried to twist away, embarrassed, face red with rage.
"You madman—!" he hissed under his breath and stomped hard on Alessio's foot.
Alessio winced—but smiled. Actually smiled.
Noah stormed out of the room, furious.
The screen exploded with murmurs.
"Did… did he say wifey?"
"Boss paused the meeting… three times?"
"I remember the intern who knocked during his call last year. He cut off his fingers."
"Our boss. The hot, terrifying bachelor boss… is married?!"
Alessio didn't deny it. Didn't correct them. He simply ended the call.
"Meeting's over."
Click.
Silence returned.
He sank into his chair, running a hand down his face.
Then he chuckled—quiet, dry.
No one ever disturbed him. No one ever dared. His time was sacred. But Noah… Noah had just barged in again and again without a hint of fear.
And yet—Alessio hadn't wanted to stop him.
He could still feel the heat of Noah's body against his own. The way his scent clung to him like expensive honey and fire. The way his lips had parted in shock, then anger. He was unpredictable. Soft and wild.
And he was his.
Alessio leaned back, eyes closing for a brief moment.
His heart—usually so still—was racing.
And for once… he didn't mind.
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End of Chapter 29:
"He stormed into my meeting, into my closet, into my life—and without permission, made everything else feel irrelevant."