I blinked.
Maybe I hit my head during that near-death encounter with the pavement, because there was no way Riccardo Costa — Mr. Tall, handsome, male lead — was standing in front of me.
But nope.
It wasn't a hallucination.
His hand was still gripping my arm, warm and steady, keeping me upright. I could feel the heat seeping through my jacket, and my brain short-circuited for a solid five seconds.
His brow furrowed slightly, his eyes scanning me like he was checking for injuries. "Are you alright?"
Oh. My. God.
His voice was deep. Smooth. Like melted chocolate with a dash of espresso.
"I-I'm fine!" I squeaked — yes, squeaked — as I stumbled back a step, putting some much-needed distance between us.
My cheeks were on fire for no reason, and I was praying to every deity in existence that he didn't notice.
Spoiler alert: He totally did.
And then… recognition dawned in his eyes.
"Oh," he murmured, his gaze narrowing slightly. "It's you."
Shit.
I tried to smile. Play it cool. But my lips barely twitched before I gave up.
This… bastard recognized me. Ugh. Fuck this fate.
I tried so hard to avoid him. I wanted to change the damn plot! I was supposed to be home by now, sipping instant noodles and pretending none of this ever happened. But nope. I had to go and trip — literally — into him.
And now?
Why the hell was my heart doing somersaults in my chest like it was auditioning for the Olympics?
"Are you sure you're okay?" His voice was softer now, concern etched in his features. He tilted his head, and I swear those eyes of his were trying to strip away every one of my defenses. "That was a pretty close call."
Close call?
Yeah, a close call with destiny. And destiny was a cruel, meddling jerk.
I cleared my throat, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. "Yeah, just… tripped over… uh…" I glanced down, searching for an excuse. "A pebble?"
Seriously? A pebble?
Riccardo's brows lifted, and the corner of his mouth twitched.
"A pebble?"
Yup. He wasn't buying it, and... I am an idiot.
"Tiny but deadly," I added, nodding way too enthusiastically.
Stop talking, Luca. Abort. ABORT.
"Right…" His gaze lingered on me for a moment too long. I felt my insides twist, heat pooling in my stomach in a way that was so not fair.
Step away. Walk away. Run if you have to.
"Anyway!" I blurted out, my voice a little too loud. "Thanks for… you know… saving me from a tragic pickpocketer."
Good save, right?
"You caught him, and I got my belongings thanks to you." I lifted the plastic bag as evidence, as if that would make him believe me. "So… I'll just, uh… get going now."
I turned to bolt —because of survival instincts — but his voice stopped me cold.
"Wait."
Oh no.
I froze mid-step, cursing under my breath.
"How are you going? Do you want me to drop you off?"
Yes, please. Wait—NO. Bad idea. Very bad idea.
"It's okay!" I squeaked (again), spinning around with a smile that probably looked like I was in pain. "I can go by myself. No need to trouble you."
Riccardo didn't look convinced.
"At least let me—"
"Really!" I cut him off, waving my hand like I was shooing away a fly. "It's fine. I'll just… take the bus."
"The bus?" His brow quirked, and I saw it — that cop mode flicker in his eyes.
"Yup." I nodded way too fast. "Love public transport. So eco-friendly. So...bye."
I turned to bolt again, but...
"Alfio…"
Oh no. Not the name. Not like that. Wait… He already knows my name?
I blinked, brain short-circuiting for the second time in the span of five minutes. When did I—
Oh. Right.Alfio probably introduced himself during their first meeting.
I mean, that's how it went in the novel. And then...he begins...
"Why do I get the feeling…" Riccardo took a step closer, his gaze narrowing just a fraction. "That you're avoiding me?"
Oh, hell.
"N-No! What? Avoiding? Who, me?" I laughed.
It was a terrible, nervous laugh that probably made me sound like I'd inhaled too much helium. "Why would I avoid you?"
Because I'm trying to change the plot before I end up dead, duh.
Riccardo's eyes didn't miss a thing. And right now? They were locked onto me like a predator zeroing in on prey.
"Funny…" His voice was soft, but there was a dangerous edge to it. "Because it definitely feels like you're running from something."
Or someone.
My pulse skyrocketed.
"Nope. Not running. Just… busy!" I waved my hand vaguely, like that would somehow make this conversation disappear. "Lots to do. Places to be. Very… schedule-y day."
"Schedule-y?"
"Yup." I nodded like a freaking bobblehead. "Super schedule-y."
Riccardo's lips curved into that damn half-smile. "I see." He stepped even closer, and I swear the air between us thickened.
"But still let me drop you home," he murmured, his tone smooth as silk. "So that you don't… trip over any more pebbles."
Bastard.
"I'm serious," I said, forcing a laugh that was about as convincing as a politician's campaign promises. "I can manage. Totally fine. Nothing to worry about; I can go—"
"You're not walking home alone," Riccardo said, and this time, it wasn't a suggestion. It was a statement.
Damn it. This bastard. The way he said it, all calm and authoritative, had my brain spiraling into panic mode. He sounds like he's about to arrest me… for refusing to get inside his damn car.
My traitorous heart did a somersault, and I hated it.
I opened my mouth to argue, but he gave me one of those cop stares that made people confess to crimes they didn't even commit.
And just like that…
I lost.
Which was how I ended up exactly where I didn't want to be — inside his car.
Because this is exactly what happened in the novel.
I sat stiffly in the passenger seat, hands clutching the plastic bag with my belongings like it was a lifeline. The smell of leather and Riccardo's ridiculously intoxicating cologne filled the small space, messing with my senses.
Stay calm. Don't panic. This doesn't mean anything.
But my heart?
Oh, that traitorous bastard was pounding like a drum, refusing to get with the program. I totally wanted to avoid this fucking script, but… I ended up following it somehow.
I clenched my jaw, glaring out the window.
I knew this part; I remembered the exact line.
[Alfio… retrieved his belongings and, while walking out, bumped into Riccardo. His heart thumped louder at seeing Riccardo for the second time. Riccardo, ever the responsible cop, insisted on driving Alfio home. And being alone with Riccardo? Alfio's heart pounded like a drum.]
And guess what?
Here I was. Alone with Riccardo. Heart pounding like a damn drum. Following the script to the letter.
Fucking fate.
I groaned internally, sinking deeper into the seat, wishing the earth would just open up and swallow me whole. And just like that, after I reached home and thanked him for dropping me off, I made a decision.
This time, I'll change my fate.
I was done. No more accidental meetings. No more bumping into him like a clumsy idiot. No more following the damn script like a sheep.
The author of this damn novel wanted me to suffer? Well, not again, Satan.
But nope.
I tried. I really did. But somehow…
Scene 1: The Grocery Store Debacle
I just wanted some damn pasta. That was it. I grabbed the last pack of spaghetti like a man on a mission, triumphant. Until…
"Alfio?"
I froze.
No.
No, no, no.
I turned my head slowly, like in one of those horror movies where the protagonist realizes the killer is standing right behind them. And there he was. Riccardo. Standing by the shelf of canned tomatoes.
Holding a jar of marinara.
Looking like he belonged in a damn commercial.
"Shopping?" He arched a brow, clearly amused.
"I…uh…" My brain scrambled for a believable excuse. "Emergency…carb-loading."
"Emergency?" Riccardo blinked, clearly trying not to laugh.
"Yup." I held up the pasta as if it were a proof.
"Right."
And just like that, because I couldn't think of a single non-stupid excuse to escape…
He offered to drop me home.
Scene 2: The Coffee Shop Catastrophe
Okay, maybe I was overreacting. I mean, what were the odds I'd bump into Riccardo again?
Zero. Nada.
I decided to treat myself to a quiet afternoon at a cozy little café — far away from my usual haunts. A peaceful, Riccardo-free zone.
Or so I thought.
The bell chimed as I stepped inside, inhaling the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Heaven. I ordered my drink, found a corner seat, and was just about to enjoy my moment of solitude when…
"Alfio?"
I choked on my coffee.
No fucking way.
I wiped my mouth, eyes wide as I turned to see Riccardo standing in line.
ugh...
"Oh… hey," I croaked, voice barely functioning.
"Didn't expect to see you here," he said, looking just as surprised as I felt.
"Me neither!" I blurted. "I mean, I didn't expect to see me here either! I'm…uh…exploring new places. Trying out… coffee… from different…coordinates?"
Coordinates?!
Riccardo's lips twitched.
"Coordinates?"
"Yup. Big…coffee enthusiast."
And because fate was a cruel bastard, his order came up just as I was gathering the courage to bolt.
"Mind if I join you?"
Mind? Yes. Say no, Luca. SAY NO.
"Sure!" I squeaked.
Damn it.
And of course…
He offered to drop me home. Again.
Scene 3: The Pharmacy Fiasco
This time, I was prepared.
No public places.
I kept to the shadows, avoiding any chance encounters. But fate? Fate was a relentless asshole.
I just needed cold medicine. I wasn't feeling great. A quick trip to the pharmacy — in and out. No way I'd run into him here.
Except…
"Alfio?"
I nearly knocked over an entire display of cough syrup.
You've gotta be kidding me.
I turned around, and there he was. Riccardo, standing by the shelves, holding a box of painkillers.
"Feeling okay?" he asked, his eyes narrowing with concern.
"Totally fine!" I waved my hand, knocking over a bottle of vitamin C. "Just…stocking up. For…flu season."
"Uh-huh."
And because I couldn't catch a break…
He offered to drop me home.
Again.
Cut to: Me. Sitting in his car. For the third damn time.
I slumped in the passenger seat, arms crossed, glaring out the window.
This is fine. Everything is fine.
"You know…" Riccardo's voice was laced with amusement as he glanced at me. "Looks like fate keeps throwing us together."
"Yeah…" I muttered, voice dripping with defeat.
Fucking fate.
I wanted to argue. I really did.
But all I could do was groan, sinking deeper into the seat, cursing the universe for turning me into a human GPS for Riccardo Costa.
And… I felt so defeated.
For real.
Should I just drop the plan to avoid the script? But that would lead to… death. My death.
Sigh....
I really feel like I can't change my fate as Alfio. No matter what I do, the story keeps dragging me back to the same damn plot points.
But I don't want to die again. I don't want to go through that pain. I really don't.
Please… please, author…
My eyes squeezed shut as I silently pleaded with whatever cruel god or twisted writer had thrown me into this mess.
Please, I really don't want to die. I'm begging you—Please...do something. Please...
And then...
CRASH!
The entire car lurched forward as a loud bang echoed through the air.
What the fuck…
My eyes flew open, and Riccardo's hand immediately went to his gun as he muttered a string of curses.
"What the hell was that?" I asked, heart pounding, panic settling in my chest.
"Stay here." Riccardo's tone was sharp, all cop mode now.
Hell no, I'm not staying here! But before I could protest, he was already out of the car, and curiosity (plus a healthy dose of fear) made me follow.
And then… I saw it.
A monstrous jeep.
Black, sleek, and built like a damn tank. The thing had rammed into Riccardo's car like it was a toy, and from the dent on the bumper, I was surprised we weren't halfway across the street.
"Son of a…" Riccardo's jaw clenched as he took in the damage. His eyes flashed with authority as he barked, "Step out of the vehicle!"
I gulped, standing awkwardly behind Riccardo, trying really hard not to panic. Then the driver's door of the monster jeep swung open.
And then…He stepped out.
Salvatore 'Salvo' Mancini.
The air around him shifted — heavier, suffocating, like the world itself was holding its breath. Tall. Broad shoulders. Dark hair slicked back just enough to make him look effortlessly dangerous.
His presence was commanding. No… more than that. It was suffocating. Piercing, predatory eyes scanned the scene, sharp and calculating, like he was assessing who was worth keeping alive.
Unbuttoned shirt, exposing a sliver of his toned chest, he oozed power and menace with every step. His hands casually tucked into his pockets like this was just another stroll in the park.
And that smirk…
The same smirk that said, 'I'll destroy everything if I feel like it.'
The Main Villain of this Damn Novel had appeared.
But....Why is he looking at me like that?
The way his gaze locked onto me — slow, deliberate, like a predator spotting prey — sent a shiver down my spine.
My heart pounded in my ears.
This… was very, very bad.