Aria's POV “Stai attentat ragazza!” the stranger shouts. “Excuse me?” I say confused, still standing there gaping like a fish out of water. My family was Italian, but to my shame, I do not know the language. I turn my head to get a better look at the man, and it is as if all the air gets knocked out of my lungs. I am sure my mouth is hanging open, there might even be drool at the corners. Never have I seen a man so attractive before, on a magazine cover yes, but never this close in real life. The man towering over me is the most perfect specimen. His pitch-black hair is cut into a quiff which only makes his piercing, Nordic blue eyes even more striking. My eyes slide across his chest, I notice the way his shirt is straining over the large muscles underneath. “Enjoying the view?” he asks with a thick Italian accent. I can immediately feel the heat spread across my entire face. “I, uhm, I” I want to say something clever, but in this moment, in front of this man. I have forgotten ho
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