Page 315 of Alessio

“Us?” Alessio scoffed. “Us?”

“That’s what I said, wasn’t it?”

“What is that?”

Ginevra lifted her gaze again to watch the scene playing out down the hall. She had no business standing there, and it certainly wasn’t her place to watch this whole thing play out like she was a fly on the wall.

And still, she couldn’t move.

She was compelled to stay.

The two men stood toe-to-toe in the doorway of the office, their bodies angled toward one another like one was waiting for the other to strike, but neither knew which one would do it first. She didn’t even think they realized their fight had been this loud, or that it had almost moved entirely out into the hallway.

“What is what?” Corrado snapped.

“Us—what is that, huh? Because you haven’t known, or you sure as shit didn’t wanna say before, so let’s not pretend like you do now.”

“Low blow, Les. That’s a low fucking blow, even for you. You’re mad, so you’re saying shit you don’t mean because that’s how you deal. And I get that, but that’s low. You’re pissed—so fine. I crossed a line—yeah. None of those things are untrue, but it doesn’t change what this has always been to me.”

“But all of them mean one fucking thing for me, Corrado.”

“Stop saying that.”

“What, you don’t like having your bullshit thrown at your feet for you to unpack?”

“That’s not it at all. It doesn’t matter how many times you say it, it won’t make it true.”

“Then, what? Go on, tell me. I’ll wait. Surprise me for once, please. I’ve had five damn years doing this with you, so what’s one more night, right?”

“Stop it. This doesn’t prove shit about us, or some complex you’ve had about what we’ve been for the last five fucking years,” Corrado said, his tone roughening enough to make Ginevra startle against the wall. She looked down their way just in time to see Corrado step forward fast enough to force Alessio back a step, making the man press against the doorjamb. “It doesn’t change the fact that I love—”

Corrado didn’t get to finish his sentence before the inevitable happened. She’d been watching it from the time they came into her view—the way both of them seemed like one was going to strike out at the other. Only, Alessio didn’t strike out the way Ginevra thought he would.

This all felt violent.

Anger overflowing.

Pain spilling out in words.

And yet, Alessio struck out at Corrado with affection. If one could call the kiss that he leveled on Corrado as affectionate. Ginevra didn’t know if she would, not considering the force of the kiss pushed Corrado back until he was the one with his spine against the doorjamb, and a hand was at his throat.

She heard Corrado hitting the wall, saw the way Alessio’s lips dragged against his, fingers curling into a suit jacket, and another fisting into leather. Somehow, though she didn’t think there was any room left between them, the men moved closer. Their kiss wasn’t soft or easy. Certainly not slow, or sweet.

Vicious, maybe.

Bruising, definitely.

And oh, so painful.

Painful, she thought, because one of them seemed to be fighting to leave something behind while the other was refusing to let go.

Ginevra sucked in a sharp breath, her heart aching as a whisper of heat shot through her body at the same time. It would be impossible for someone to see that sight, those beautifully haunted men showing love in their hurt, and not feel something for it. She simply didn’t think she should feel something for it.

This was not the time for that. God knew, she had her own reasons to be mad here, and that was enough to make her want to slip out of the hallway and leave those two to their … mess.

Because fuck, she could see it was a mess. Somehow, she’d been put in the middle.

But still …