Page 37

“They say, where two or three Tarasov men are gathered, chaos is not too far behind,” a familiar voice spoke, deep and venomous.

I exchanged glances with my cousins, my head tilting slightly to the side as I watched a figure emerge from the faint smoke that surrounded the front door.

The speaker stepped out into the open, a cigar between his lips. “What’s the matter, Nik? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said, wearing a corny, self-satisfied smirk.

“Dante Romano,” I called, my jaw tightening.

“In the flesh,” he replied, halting in front of me. “Now, where the fuck is my daughter?”

“Dad?” Alessia called softly, rising from behind the flipped table, her dress and some parts of her face stained with dust.

He turned in her direction, his smile fading as soon as she stepped out into view. His eyes dropped to her belly, and his brows knitted together, creases forming between them. He watched her move closer, but instead of going to him, she stood by my side, fingers intertwined with mine.

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, his voice filled with rage and impatience, his eyes fixed on her swollen belly.

“Dad, I can explain,” she said, her tone soft but laced with fear.

He glared at me, fury simmering beneath the surface. “You did this,” he growled, lunging in my direction. “You son of a bitch!” Dante struck me in the face. Hard.

The impact pushed me back a couple of feet, and he wouldn’t stop. “You bastard—fuckin' Russian scum!”

I didn’t fight back. I just let him vent, each strike seemingly harder than the other. My cousins wanted to intervene, but I shook my head, signaling them not to.

“Dad, stop!” Alessia yelled, begging. “Stop, you’re hurting him!”

Even when I dropped to the floor, Dante didn’t refrain himself; he pounced on me, drilling heavy punches into my face. He could hear his daughter’s pleas, but all he wanted was to end me with his bare hands.

My eyes flickered in Alessia’s direction, and I watched her pick up a discarded pistol from the floor. She raised the barrel toward the ceiling and screamed, “I said, stop!” A bullet rang out instantly, catching Dante’s attention.

His next blow hung midair, and his eyes squinted in confusion.

Moments later, he lowered his arm, got off me, and turned to face his daughter.

She stood across from him, eyes burning with intensity as a scowl settled on her face.

She held the gun like she wasn’t afraid to use it, and in that moment, that scared Daddy’s little girl was no more.

This was a woman, a mother ready to defend her territory at any cost.

“What’re you doing?” Dante asked her, his hands trembling at his sides, rage and disappointment flickering in his gaze.

“I’m saving my fiancé’s life,” she replied, her tone unapologetic.

His brows rose immediately, fingers balling into fists on both hands. “Your fiancé?”

Her throat wobbled as she swallowed hard, bracing herself for this confrontation. “Yes.”

By now, my cousins had helped me back onto my feet, and we stood together, watching this scene unfold before our eyes. I could almost hear her heart pounding like a drum in her chest.

Dante turned back in my direction then faced her again. “How dare you?” he hissed, taking menacing steps toward her. “How dare you spit on your family name by lying with this dog?!” he thundered.

“He’s no dog!” she snapped, her voice rising above his. “He is the father of my unborn son!”

Dante paused in his tracks, eyes darting to her belly before settling on her face again.

For a moment, silence fell, and a thick blanket of tension hovered in the air. No one said a word. Nothing made a sound, and even the chandeliers seemed to hold their breaths.

“Last chance, Alessia,” Dante said, his voice low and gravelly. “Come home.”

“I am home,” she said, replying with almost a whisper. “Nik and this baby in my womb…they’re my home now.”

“You’re not thinking straight, Alessia. You must be under some kind of Russian voodoo,” Dante said, his expression darkening. “Take her. She’s coming home with us,” he ordered his men.

“Stay back!” She pulled the gun on them, fingers cocking the damn thing.

“Ooh. She’s feisty. I like that,” Daniel said quietly, his tone laced with admiration. “Now, I see why you chose her.”

“Dad, please,” she said, pleading with her eyes, both her hands holding up the gun in front of her.

“I need you to respect my decision. I didn’t plan to get pregnant, nor did I plan on falling in love with him.

But here we are.” She stared at him with misted eyes, her lips trembling from the fear and anxiety coursing through her veins.

“You have made your choice. Now, I’ll make mine.” His expression went blank, eyes narrowing with a glint of fury simmering underneath. “Because you’ve chosen the enemy over your own…you, Alessia, on this day, cease to be a Romano.”

Her breath hitched, and tears streamed down her cheeks.

“You are no daughter of mine,” he added, his voice cold and hollow, disappointment flickering in his eyes.

Without wasting a second longer, he turned and left, his men following up behind him.

Alessia broke down in tears, hands trembling as she dropped the gun.

I rushed over to help her, pulling her to myself, my touch gentle but firm.

My arms wrapped around her, offering warmth and comfort to her broken heart.

“I’m here. It’s okay. You’re okay,” I whispered, smoothing her slightly tousled hair backward.

She withdrew by a fraction, lifting her chin to look at me. I hated those tears, and without even realizing it, I reached out and helped wipe them with my thumbs.

“You’re bleeding,” she whispered, extending a hand to try to nurse the injury on my face.

“I’ve had worse. I’ll live,” came my reply, my eyes boring into hers. “Why?” I asked her. “Why did you choose me?”

“Because you first chose me,” she replied, a faint grin tugging at the corners of her lips.

I felt my heart melt, and a flutter rose in my chest.

“I meant everything I said to my father, Nik,” she began, refusing to break eye contact.

“Every word.” Her thumb brushed against my cheek, her skin soft and smooth.

“I wasn’t sure at first. But now I am, and I can even feel it in my bones.

” She paused, as if letting the words sink in for a moment before dropping the bombshell. “I love you, Nikita Tarasov.”

I pulled her closer, pressing her body against mine in a warm, passionate embrace. That was exactly the emotion that I’d been too afraid to name.

Love.

And for the first time in my life, I said those three little words, being true to my feelings.

“I love you, too, Alessia.”

Okay, five little words.