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“Alright.” I nod, reaching for the last of my cashews. “I’m just worried about you.”
“Me? I’m fine, Dominic,” Alessa shrugs. “As for the pregnancy, I won’t pretend I’ve got it all figured out, but I’m here… alive—I’m okay.”
The memory of her bleeding, slipping away in my arms makes my skin go cold. I can still feel the weight of her body against mine, the way her blood soaked through my clothes.
“I know you are, and trust me, I’m damn grateful you’re still breathing. But I’m worried about you and Marco.”
“Don’t be.” Though confident, her smile disappears.
“Alessa. You and I both know family’s a very complex topic.”
“Don’t I know it?”
“I know things with your father are complicated. You haven’t spoken to him in almost a year, and no matter how much you hate him, seeing him like this isn’t going to be easy.”
“I know that,” she says sternly. “Why do you think I’ve stalled for so long? I thought long and hard before I told you where he could be.”
“Have you?” I challenge. “Alessandra, what do you expect? He’s rotting in a basement beaten to a pulp.”
Alessa just takes another bite of ice cream, unfazed.
“Well, for one, I expect him to tell us more about this RICO case and how he plans to back it so we know how to stop it.”
“I doubt that he’ll say anything, but let’s say he does—what then?”
There’s a pause. Alessa looks me in the eye, hesitating for a split second. Then she smirks.
“I plan on asking him about my mother. And if he says something I don’t like...”
She pauses, then leans back and licks the spoon.
“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”
Heat rushes through me—half arousal, half something darker. The savage part of me recognizes her willingness to protect what’s ours.
“That’s probably the hottest shit you’ve said to me,” I grin, taking in the view.
“You’re sick,” she giggles, rolling her eyes.
“Guilt can break you, you know...eat you alive.”
She stirs her ice cream absently, brows knitting together.
“You think I don’t know that?” Her voice quiets. “I’ve lived with guilt my entire life—guilt for my mother’s death, guilt forstaying, guilt for leaving. Guilt for being weak enough to let him control me for so long.”
Her fingers tighten around the spoon.
“But you know what eats you alive even worse than guilt, Dominic? Regret. And it got me thinking... if my mother were still alive, how different everything would have been. And if he really had something to do with her death…” She exhales sharply. “Then what hasn’t he already taken from me?”
I stay silent, watching her press her hand to her stomach.
“I just know one thing. I need to hear it from him myself.”
My throat tightens, something fierce spreads across my chest. This woman sees exactly what I see. The future we could build together.
“Okay.” I nod. “But I gotta warn you, baby. Not everyone’s got the stomach for what’s going down in that basement.”
As it turns out, Alessahasthe stomach for it.