Chapter 22

Chiara

Alessio takes a deep breath, holding it in like he’s bracing himself for something that will hurt. A wave of apprehension comes over me, and for a moment I hesitate.

But he turns to face me and I can still see a clear signal.

He wants me to do this.

He’s begging me to do this.

My hands are shaking. My breathing is also erratic. But I still gather every ounce of courage I have to hook my fingers behind the mask and slowly ease it away from his face, letting it fall to the floor with a soft thud.

Then I look down to see his face for the first time.

And Alessio de Marco is the most beautiful man I have ever seen.

There is no other way to describe him. He’s just . . . beautiful. Like something so good that it’s almost unreal. High cheekbones, sculpted jaw, straight nose, pink lips slightly parted. The thing that remains to be the most mesmerizing thing about him is his eyes, which are deep-set and more striking than I thought, emphasized by eyelashes as dark as his eyebrows.