Page 87 of Forgive Me, Father

I followed her instruction, down a narrow staircase that whispered with every step.At the bottom, the door creaked open into a stark, echoing gym, all concrete walls and steel beams, with the sharp scent of sweat and leather hanging in the air.In the center, a full-sized boxing ring dominated the space, its worn ropes and scuffed mat speaking of countless brutal sessions.Around it, racks of free weights, punching bags, and mirrored walls reflected every movement with unforgiving clarity.The space thrummed with energy—built for discipline, not comfort.

Alfonso was in the center of it, stripped down to his sweat-soaked shirt, sparring hard with two of his guards.His fists moved like fire—controlled, brutal, beautiful.Muscles coiled and released like clockwork, precision born of danger.

The two guards took him on, one at a time.He sorted them out real fast with throws, and from what I could tell, some sort of eastern fighting style.But the way he moved, he made it look easy.

The sparring came to a halt at last, heavy breaths filling the space as Alfonso reached down to help the final guard up on his feet.Why he needed guards at all was beyond me.

He caught me watching.Without a word, he lifted a finger and crooked it once, calling me to him.

There was no room for hesitation in that gesture.Alfonso towered over me as I neared.

“I’m not a fighter,” I said, eyeing the ring like it might bite.

“We all know that,” Nico said with a grin, and I gave him the finger without missing a beat.

Alfonso chuckled, leaning over the ropes like a fighting god taking a break.His lips came dangerously close to mine and then softly planted a juicy kiss on them.

“Morning,” he added, pulling an inch away.His skin was damp with sweat, his shirt clinging to every cut of muscle, but somehow, he still smelled clean and expensive.

“It’s so unfair.Even your sweat smells expensive.”

A chuckle escaped his beautiful, sultry lips.“You are going to take a shower with me.”

“I will if you will show me your dungeon later on.”

A slow smile tugged at his lips, as a flicker of excitement lit up his green eyes.“You sure?I might just lock you up down there.”

“Whatever you wish.”

“It’s dangerous to tell me whatever I wish.Never forget that.”

I rolled my eyes at him and turned around.His hand slapped my ass hard, and I yelped, making his guards laugh.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me.”He turned around and went back to their session.

My ass stung for another fifteen minutes.That was really hard, and when I pulled my pants down, and imprint of Alfonso’s hand sat on my left butt cheek.“Asshole.”

The whole day stretched out in silence, thick and restless.I felt unmoored, lonely in a house full of people who weren’t reallymine.Eventually, I gave up on pacing the halls and picked up the phone.

I called home.

My sister answered, her voice a rush of warmth; she sounded better than before, and we talked for what felt like hours.She told me Mom had been emotional since our last conversation.Em asked why, and I finally said it out loud, how I understood now.All those grooming lessons, the etiquette drills, the endless hours under our mother’s sharp gaze—we needed them more than we ever realized.

Then, of course, she wanted to know everything about Alfonso.I laughed, told her there wasn’t much to tell, he was a locked door with no key.I figured I’d learn more about him in time, as we grew older.

Right now, all I really knew was how much he loved his family.Everything else, the business, the shadows, he kept hidden, and I didn’t yet know how deep those shadows ran.

He loved to fuck, but I knew there was more to the man than just fucking.

By late afternoon, his voice exploded from behind the office door, sharp, angry, and unmistakably Italian.

I paused in the hallway, wondering who was on the other end of that fury.Whatever was going on, it kept him locked away for hours.He barely made it to dinner, and by ten, he was still buried in whatever mess had set him off and returned to his office to continue dealing with it.

I was done with the day.Judging by the tension in his voice, so was he.

I knocked.

A sharp string of Italian curses snapped through the door.