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23

ALESSANDRO

“ A lessandro, you need to go to bed. You need rest.”

“I'll rest when this is done,” I grit through my teeth, my eyes bleary.

We've been at this for days, planning. Racking up a body count as we hunt down and raid every den of the Serpent’s Head we can find. I’ve tried to temper the bloodshed, to send a very specific message.

That we want to talk. That we are willing to negotiate.

Of course, it’s bullshit. I want Dom’s head.

But wholesale slaughter only leads to retaliation.

He must have promised them the world—the thugs and multitude of street gangs working for him—there’s no other reason so many different gangs would team up, join forces.

Unless they all got tired of going up against us on their own.

We never tolerated competition on our turf.

And we never offered to let them join us. It’s always been our way, to be the sole power in any area we own.

So, regardless of the methods, they have us outmanned.

But not outgunned.

We have more money. We have better tactics. Now all we need is confirmation that Dom is where we need him to be for a full-scale assault. After he agrees to sit down and talk to me, that is.

“Got it.” Ero slips into his seat across from me.

“Yeah? Wait, seriously?!” I sit up straighter. “You’re not pulling my leg are you?”

It’s the closest thing to a smile I ever see on Ero’s face. “I don’t pull legs. That’s the other twin.”

“Not what I meant, smartass.” I shouldn’t question Ero, undermine his trust, but I’m tense. “When should we move?”

“I suggest we wait until tomorrow night. If he still hasn't reached out for a meeting, we strike.”

“Agreed,” Adriano intones, clasping his hands on the table. “In the meantime, we need to be at our best. Which means?—”

“Yeah, yeah. Sleep. I get it.”

“Same goes for you two, and anyone not on guard duty. We gotta be sharp.”

“Right. So. Tomorrow just after midnight?” I ask, rhetorical, but wanting their agreement.

“Fuck yeah.”

“Absolutely.”

Ero nods.

It’s finally here. Some sort of resolution to this hellscape of waiting. Just one more day.

“Spread the word, quietly,” I look each of them in the eye. “Nothing slips. We’ve got one chance to do this right.”

Ciro rolls his eyes. “Yeah, we know the drill, boss.”

“Shut the fuck up, Ciro.” Adriano snaps, but he’s grinning like a fool.

We all are, except for Ero, looking smug enough.

Standing there, the four of us around the war table, I connect with them, appreciate them for the men they’ve become.

One by one I embrace them, thank them.

“You’ve all sacrificed a lot for me. I’ll never fucking forget it. It means the world that you’re all here.”

“Where the hell else would we be?”

“We’re yours, until the end.”

“Yeah. Not just because we’re your brothers and we have to.”

Adriano points one finger, hard, into my chest. “You’re not just our brother. Not just the guy who raised us. You’re our general. Our king.”

“Fuckin’ respect!” Ciro chants, pumping his fist.

“Jackass. But he’s right. You’ve earned every bit of respect from every member of this family. Don’t fucking forget it.”

“Thanks for the pep talk, Coach,” I punch Adri in the arm.

“That’s Coach Nonna, to you.”

“Fuck, maybe I should get some sleep.”

“Yeah, the lack of shut-eye is making you weepy and weird.”

“Alright, I’ve had enough harassment. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I grumble, taking my leave.

My eyes feel full of sand, grainy and bloodshot.

Bed is finally sounding appealing. But as I head down the hallway and up the stairs, I feel the tug of fatigue wearing on me in a different way. Weariness is tugging at my willpower, eating away at my resolve.

I wish Isabella was there in my bed waiting for me.

Just to see her face, to smell her hair. Feel her skin under my fingertips…

How much better would it be making these decisions, doing meaningful work for my family if I had someone waiting for me at home. Making the hard calls with me, supporting my decisions, offering wisdom, and challenging me.

And at the end of the day, ready to fulfill my needs, and I hers.

A reason to come home. A reason to fight on.

I wrestle with my tattered heartstrings as I slump down on my bed. Tossing my shoes off, I’m a second away from falling back when it clicks, a memory. Isa was supposed to meet Angelica today. And Gigi.

What if …

No. Forget it.

Go to bed.

But it gnaws at me. Wiring me up, sending me pacing the room, running restless fingers through my hair.

“Fuck it.” I cross to the door, flinging it open. “Tomas.”

“Yes?”

“Bring Isabella to my room. Now.”

Weakness. That’s what this is. Any excuse to see her.

“Sir?” he wouldn’t question me outright, but Tomas is one of the few people in the world who can ask twice, essentially offering me a chance to change my mind about a potentially disastrous decision.

“Please, bring her.”

“Right away, Alessandro.” He’s gone in a moment, vanishing down the hall.

Likely, the entire household knows everything by now, the gossip about my dalliance, who my prisoner guest is. That’s just the nature of a close-knit family.

While I wait, I sit on the edge of my bed, staring at the floor. I’m still wearing the same clothes from the day before. I probably need a bath. A hot meal. Three days to sleep.

But the need to see her trumps it all.

I can’t even say why. What will I even say to her?

The panic and insecurity of that fact unnerves me as the door opens and Tomas sees her in, closing the door behind her.

I’m painfully unprepared for what stands in front of me.

She's stunning, dressed in one of Angelica’s light-colored gowns. Her hair tumbles over one shoulder, tied into a single, spiraling side ponytail.

Conflicting emotions well up, a torrent of love, stifled with fury.

The same struggle wars in her eyes, in the set of her stance and the fretting of her hands wringing slightly in front of her.

How can I not worship this woman?

Yet how can I forgive her?

I know Ciro would argue, “Why don’t you just ask her why she did it? People have all sorts of reasons for the things they do.” He’d say it like it was all no big thing, rolling his eyes at how overblown the situation is.

And he’d be right.

Except my heart doesn’t work that way.

Hatred boils in my gut, mostly for the way things have gone, the situation with Dom. As I sit there, clutching the edge of the bed, I realize there’s not an ounce of hatred in her towards me.

I can see that now, so different from the day we met.

She hated me then, truly. Although she hid it well.

And just like that day…

“You’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, you know?” I hate how bitter I sound.

“Only when I’m with you. Otherwise, I’m just…”

“Just. I don’t even know what I am without you, now,” I grunt, trying to muffle my rage. “How could you do this to me, Isabella? Knowing who I am, how I am. What am I supposed to do ?”

She lets me bubble over, storming from the edge of the bed and pacing into the same rut I’ve walked into my rug a hundred times in the last few days.

“You shattered me. You destroyed me. I let you in and you trashed the place. You used me.”

The last statement hits her like a lash across the back. The subtle flinch wounds me, an instant regret.

But it’s short-lived, a flash of anger flaring her eyes. The defiance I came to love so much.

“Used you? I was a stranger who came into your home, and regardless of my motives, I fell for you. I never intended for any of this to happen. And you can’t stand there and tell me you didn’t use me just as hard.”

“I would never have done so if I had known?—”

“Known what? How could I have known that what I believed, the entire reason for pursuing you was a lie? I wanted revenge for a murder that didn’t happen.”

“You wanted to bring me down for your own career moves.”

“You hurt people all the time for your own gain. How is that any different?”

“I only hurt people to protect the ones I love. The people I am responsible for.”

“And they get hurt in the process. Don’t even try to refute that. Giorgio lost his life for you. That’s all on you in the end. He’s dead because of who you are.”

I gape at her, unable to rebuke her.

“And I know he would do it again in a heartbeat because that's who he was. But it still hurts . And I still want to blame you.”

“You've destroyed me Isabella. More than any war or hit man ever could.”

“I’m truly sorry, Alessandro. But I’m also grateful.”

“For what?”

“For getting to see who you really are. For the time we had together. And most of all, for protecting Angelica and Gigi. For making them a part of your family. Whatever happens between us, know that it means the world that you kept that promise.”

“I always keep my promises.”

“I used to say the same thing. Until I fell in love with a criminal.”

“And what if I wasn’t? What if I left this all behind? Would you have me?”

“Alessandro…” The tenderness in her voice cracks the walls around my heart. “It doesn’t matter what you are. I want you all the same.”

I’m rooted to the spot, locked in her gaze. I should resist her. She’s a liability, a weakness. Or maybe I’m just weak.

“Would you stay here with me? If I let you go and gave you a ticket anywhere in the world, would you choose to stay?”

“I will stay with you through anything. If you’ll have me.” Her resolve knifes me through the chest.

“Say it.” I grit out, unsure what I’m even asking for.

“I’m yours.”

“Say it.” Desperation chokes me.

“I love you, Alessandro, and I always will.”

I'm off the bed, crushing her in my arms before I can take another breath, before the words that are forming in the back of my throat can escape my lips. Her lips complete me, soothe the raging fires of my wrath, kindling another flame, a guttering flicker that I tried to snuff out.

The embrace shifts, gentler, pressing but tender.

Unlike our frantic intimacy at the lodge, we take our time exploring, savoring. However, it’s no less intense.

Her curves form to my body like she was designed to fit.

Like an old-world statue sculpted by master hands, the perfect incarnation of love.

“I need you, now,” I gasp between nips of her teeth and tongue along my lips.

Her dress slips from her shoulders with a flick of my wrist, my shirt unbuttoned and tossed aside in a rush, then my pants. In the same motion, she’s pressing me down onto the bed, straddling me in nothing but a scrap of white lace.

“You’re the air I breathe…”

“Never stop breathing me in.”

“You’re my fire in the cold…”

“Make me blaze higher,” she begs, her breath hot in my ear, tearing at my boxer briefs.

We’re rolling, gripping one another, holding on like our lives depend on it. She wraps her legs around my middle, settling on top of me, and I lock eyes with her, my hand cupping the back of her neck, bracing both of us, as she takes me to the hilt with a sensuous lunge of her hips.

Bearing down, once, twice, Isabella takes the breath from my lips, breathing life back into me with a moan.

Her walls are my haven, pressing all around me, hugging me.

It’s heaven made flesh.

“Right there, stay right there!” she cries, vacillating along my length, staying pressed against me all the while, hitting the mound of her core over and over again.

Her back arches, rising above me like a goddess, gyrating.

Velvet and silk are rough by comparison to the way she feels inside. Yet she clenches me with a grip that holds my very soul locked in her sway.

My mouth lunges for her pert, firm breasts each time she lunges forward, catching the erect hill of one nipple, devouring each in turn, worshiping every inch of skin within reach. Before long she’s murmuring in a rhythmic pulse, singing with each thrust, a constant expression of her desire. My own rumbling meets her blow for blow.

Light fills my senses as she rises, tightening and ascending to the summit of her pleasure.

She is redemption.

She burns away the darkness.

My fingers find their way down along the cleft of her belly and lower, orbiting the apex of her sex, circling to send her into new echelons of ecstasy.

“Isabella, I need you to come for me.”

“I am …”

“I can’t hold on!” And I don’t want to.

“Yes! Come with me!” she sings, the walls of the very room quaking with the thunder of our passion.

“Come again, and again. I never want you to stop!”

“Don’t stop!” she commands, she begs, and I buck my hips to her rapacious rhythm.

“I’ll never stop!”

Because she's mine.

And I belong to her, her slave, her possession, never to live outside of her light.

It’s the sweetest form of imprisonment I can imagine. Just as her inner chamber imprisons me now, constricting around me as she comes undone.

The cascade of her trembling orgasm washes over me, dragging me in, the undertow sending me diving over my own edge and into the depths of abandon. It goes on for an eternity, rolling waves of release.

When the torrent subsides, I am drained.

Emptied out, a hollow vessel that only her heat and love can fill.

Our gasps and the touch of our skin speak of our love, no words close to holding enough meaning for what we are.

I feel myself fading next to her as she toys with my hair, her fingernails grazing my scalp. This is peace.

I'm drifting off in the deepest sleep when I hear her voice, so softly, speak in the dark.

“Alessandro I need to tell you something…”

But I'm fading too fast and I miss what comes next.