Legally Yours, Illegaly Mine….
Ch 1: Arrival in Milan
The sound of heels clacking on smooth marble echoed across Milan Malpensa Airport. A tall girl in a navy-blue kurta with messy curls bouncing around her face clutched the handle of a stubborn suitcase that refused to roll straight.
Her name was Anivitha Nanduri, and Milan had never felt so… intimidating.
The Italian spring air was crisp, the signs in Italian barely made sense, and the people—all perfectly dressed in trench coats and expensive sunglasses—looked like they’d walked out of Vogue. And here she was, still sweating from the flight, her duffle bag falling off her shoulder every three steps.
Anivitha Nanduri (fl)
(grumbling under her breath)
“Why do I do this to myself? I could’ve just presented online… But no. Come to Milan, Avi. Go global, Avi.”
She finally spotted a man holding a placard. Not with her name—but close.
Placard:
Anithiva Nandari
Anivitha Nanduri (fl)
“Of course. I get a free trip abroad and they still spell my name like a WiFi password.”
She marched over, managing a smile.
Anivitha Nanduri (fl)
“That’s me! I think. It’s Anivitha Nanduri, but I answer to most mispronunciations.”
The driver, who looked like a retired Bond villain, simply nodded and gestured toward a luxury black car. Inside, she collapsed onto the leather seat and exhaled.
Outside the car window, the city of Milan whirred past—sleek architecture, cobblestone alleys, ancient cathedrals and modern art galleries, all melting into one dizzying blur. Her nerves were already crawling.
Tomorrow was the international AI conference where she’d be presenting her project: a cognitive learning module for multilingual children. Big deal. Huge.
Anivitha Nanduri (fl)
(thinking)
“No biggie. Just a stage, an audience of geniuses, and tech billionaires. Perfectly casual.”
When the car stopped outside Hotel Aurelia, a jaw-droppingly elegant five-star hotel in the fashion district, Anivitha gulped.
Anivitha Nanduri (fl)
“This is not the kind of hotel where room service serves biryani, is it?”
As she checked in, the receptionist handed her a keycard with a too-polished smile.
Receptionist:
“Welcome to Milan, Signorina Nanduri. You’ve been upgraded to the executive suite. Courtesy of Mr. Jayden Morris.”
Anivitha Nanduri (fl)
(frowning)
“I didn’t… wait, who?”
Receptionist:
“He’s the sponsor of the panel you’ll be speaking on tomorrow. Said he wanted all key speakers well-rested.”
Anivitha Nanduri (fl)
(thinking)
“Okay, billionaire vibes. Slightly creepy, but okay.”
Dragging her bags to the suite, she opened the door and gasped.
The room was bigger than her flat back home in Vijayawada. A chandelier twinkled over velvet sofas, and through floor-length windows, the Duomo gleamed under the evening sun.
Anivitha Nanduri (fl)
(softly)
“Milan, you show-off.”
Just as she kicked off her shoes and fell face-first into the plush bed, her phone buzzed with a message from her best friend back home.
Deepika - Chat]
[📸 selfie of Anivitha looking jetlagged]
“Tell me you’ve already fallen in love with an Italian barista.”
Anivitha - Chat:
“I’ve only fallen in love with the bed. And maybe the marble bathtub. And definitely the cheese in the plane sandwich.”
Deepika - Chat:
“I want photos. I want drama. I want one hot mafia CEO who falls for your brain.”
Anivitha - Chat:
“Keep dreaming. The only thing falling for me here is my suitcase.”
As she changed into fresh clothes, she thought of tomorrow—tech moguls, nerves, high heels, and her first international speech.
But she had no idea that somewhere else in the city, Jayden Morris—CEO, mafia-linked businessman, and dangerously charming—was about to remember her name from a portfolio.
And that fate was already clicking its pen, drafting the craziest contract of her life.
Cherrie
Welcome to the first chapter of “Legally Yours, Illegally Mine”!
Cherrie
Anivitha’s journey has just begun, and already Milan is serving culture shock and mild chaos. Don’t worry, the Italian CEO, mafia drama, and fake wedding bells are just around the corner.
If you smiled at her suitcase wars and name mispronunciation, stick around—it only gets funnier, swoonier, and sweeter (with a bit of spice).
Ch 2: Café Collision
Morning sunlight filtered through the latticed windows of Café La Rosa, a quaint, ivy-draped spot nestled between two stone buildings. The smell of roasted espresso, flaky pastries, and fresh basil wafted through the air.
Inside, Anivitha Nanduri was fighting for her life.
Not literally—just for a table. And her dignity.
Her laptop bag was slung over one shoulder, her hair was an unintentional homage to a cyclone, and she had a biscotti in her mouth because her hands were full.
Anivitha Nanduri (fl)
(muffled)
“One cappuccino to go… no, make that two shots, grazie.”
She turned just as someone moved behind her—fast.
Her elbow jerked, her bag slipped, and her very full coffee cup went flying.
Right onto a man’s chest.
Jayden Morris Romano (ml)
(dryly)
“Well. That’s one way to wake up in the morning.”
He stood still, mildly irritated, mildly amused, a white shirt now ruined by dark espresso. His expression? The kind that said “I own three yachts but I might sue you anyway.”
He was tall, effortlessly well-dressed in navy trousers and rolled sleeves, hair tousled like he’d been in a wind tunnel and still come out looking like a Vogue ad.
Anivitha Nanduri (fl)
(horrified)
“Oh god—I am so sorry! It slipped, I swear, I didn’t mean—do you want tissues? A doctor? A dry cleaner?”
Jayden Morris Romano (ml)
(deadpan)
“I’d settle for a refund. Or a new shirt. Armani, if you’re asking.”
Anivitha Nanduri (fl)
“Wow. Rich and sarcastic. What a joy.”
Jayden Morris Romano (ml)
“Clumsy and dramatic. A lethal combination.”
She huffed, rummaging through her tote bag for wet wipes that didn’t exist.
Anivitha Nanduri (fl)
“Look, I’ve had exactly 4 hours of sleep, I got off a 10-hour flight, and I’ve been mistaken for ‘Anithiva’ all week. This is the highlight of my day.”
Jayden Morris Romano (ml)
(raising an eyebrow)
“Anithiva?”
Anivitha Nanduri (fl)
(gritting her teeth)
“My name is Anivitha. A-N-I—never mind. You know what? I’ll buy you another coffee.”
Jayden Morris Romano (ml)
“I’d rather have my shirt back.”
Anivitha Nanduri (fl)
(with a sugar-sweet smile)
“Then maybe don’t stand that close to the counter next time, Mr. Armani.”
Jayden Morris Romano (ml)
“You’re feisty for someone who just committed caffeine assault.”
Anivitha Nanduri (fl)
(smirking)
“And you’re annoyingly calm for someone wearing latte.”
Before either of them could escalate their little word war, the barista called out her order. She grabbed her drink, gave him a sharp nod, and turned on her heel.
But not before tossing over her shoulder—
Anivitha Nanduri (fl)
“Ciao, Mr. Coffee-Stain.”
Jayden watched her go, a small grin tugging at the corners of his lips.
He didn’t know her name yet.
But the woman with the fire in her eyes and an attitude to match just crashed into his morning—and maybe, unknowingly, into his life.
Jayden’s POV – Minutes later
Matteo Romano (ml younger brother)
(sipping espresso)
“What happened to your shirt?”
Jayden Morris Romano (ml)
(leaning back, still amused)
“Got into a minor caffeine brawl with a hurricane in ethnic wear.”
Matteo Romano (ml younger brother)
“Did you tell her who you were?”
Jayden Morris Romano (ml)
“Why ruin the mystery?”
Anivitha’s phone – Group chat
[Deepika | Sahasra – Group Chat 💬]
Deepika:
“Tell us you met someone hot already.”
Anivitha:
“Yes. Hot, rude, and caffeinated.”
Sahasra:
“Oooh. Do tell.”
Anivitha:
“I may or may not have spilled an entire cappuccino on an Italian runway model with an ego problem.”
Deepika:
“So basically your future husband?”
Anivitha:
“You’re both insane.”
Cherrie
The espresso has spilled, the sarcasm is brewing, and fate just served their first collision extra hot.
Cherrie
This wasn’t love at first sight.
But it was irritation at first spill—which is almost more fun. 😏
Cherrie
Stay caffeinated, dear readers—romance is about to steam.
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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