Legally Yours, Illegaly Mine….
Ch 3: Hotel Mix-up – One Suite, Two Egos
Milan afternoons were golden and lazy, the cobbled streets humming with distant music and whirring Vespas. Anivitha had survived her first morning, one sarcastic Italian encounter, and three panels at the tech conference.
She was tired. Like, caffeine-isn’t-enough-anymore tired.
Dragging her suitcase behind her like it owed her money, she finally reached the reception desk at Hotel Palazzo Mirabella—a charming five-star heritage hotel with all the old-world Italian glam and zero patience for overbookings.
Receptionist (in broken English)
“Signora Nanduri, we apologize. There seems to be a… how do you say… mix-up?”
Anivitha Nanduri (fl)
(groaning)
“What kind of mix-up?”
Receptionist
“Two bookings. One suite. Same code. Same company.”
She blinked, trying to process that through the fog of sleep deprivation.
Receptionist
“We can arrange a new room tomorrow. But for tonight… perhaps you share?”
Anivitha Nanduri (fl)
(shocked)
“Share?! With who?”
Voice (from behind)
“If it’s with a hurricane again, at least let me wear a raincoat.”
Anivitha Nanduri (fl)
(slowly turning)
“No. No. No. Not you.”
Jayden Morris Romano (ml)
(grinning)
“Surprise.”
The Suite, Ten Minutes Later
Their room was absurdly luxurious. Velvet drapes, marble floors, twin chandeliers. One massive bed, one small couch.
Jayden Morris Romano (ml)
(dropping his duffel)
“You take the bed. I’ve slept in worse places than this couch.”
Anivitha Nanduri (fl)
(crossing her arms)
“Like hell I’m taking the bed and feeling guilty all night.”
Jayden Morris Romano (ml)
“Then take the guilt. I’m not dying on a chaise lounge in Versace pajamas for a stranger.”
Anivitha Nanduri (fl)
(snorts)
“You own Versace pajamas?”
Jayden Morris Romano (ml)
(winking)
“You’ll never know.”
Later That Night – The Room, Dimly Lit
She sat cross-legged on the bed, typing furiously. Code. Conference slides. More code. Jayden lounged on the couch with a tablet, reading documents with AirPods in.
Jayden Morris Romano (ml)
(sighs dramatically)
“Do you always breathe this loud when you type?”
Anivitha Nanduri (fl)
(without looking up)
“Do you always exist this obnoxiously?”
Jayden Morris Romano (ml)
“Touché.”
They worked in silence for five minutes.
Anivitha Nanduri (fl)
(squinting)
“Can you not click your pen every two seconds?”
Jayden Morris Romano (ml)
(dryly)
“Can you not sigh like someone just died in your code?”
Anivitha Nanduri (fl)
(typing louder)
“This is my focus face.”
Jayden Morris Romano (ml)
(clicks pen on purpose)
“This is my revenge.”
Eventually, the tension melted into… strange calm. The kind that sneaks up between two people who’d rather argue than admit they’re intrigued.
Group Chat: “Drama Llamas 🦙”
Deepika Rao (fl bff)
“Wait. You’re SHARING A ROOM with him??”
Anivitha Nanduri (fl)
“It’s temporary. Like a bad rash.”
Meghana Reddy (fl bff)
“You mean a rash with a jawline and Italian cheekbones?”
Anivitha Nanduri (fl)
“He’s a menace. A stylish, tall, well-moisturized menace.”
Deepika Rao (fl bff)
“Did you see him shirtless yet 👀”
Anivitha Nanduri (fl)
“GOODBYE.”
Matteo’s Call with Jayden
Matteo Romano (ml younger brother)
“Bro… how’s the hurricane?”
Jayden Morris Romano (ml)
(smirking)
“Currently hacking the Wi-Fi and scowling at me like I committed tax fraud.”
Matteo Romano (ml younger brother)
“So… you like her.”
Jayden Morris Romano (ml)
(scoffs)
“I tolerate her.”
Matteo Romano (ml younger brother)
“Which is your version of soulmate.”
As midnight crept in, and the city outside settled into a lull, Anivitha peeked from her laptop.
Jayden had fallen asleep on the couch, head tilted back, face peaceful. For a moment, he didn’t look like a smug billionaire.
She reached for a spare blanket, walked over, and draped it over him quietly.
Jayden Morris Romano (ml)
(groggy)
“Code working yet?”
Anivitha Nanduri (fl)
(softly)
“Yeah. Almost.”
Jayden Morris Romano (ml)
“Good. You deserve to win.”
Anivitha Nanduri (fl)
(surprised)
“Thanks.”
And this time, she smiled.
Cherrie
Sharing a suite? Classic romance chaos. But there’s nothing like one bed, two laptops, and a mutual loathing of Wi-Fi passwords to spark the beginning of something spicy.
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