Page 21 of When We Fall: Part One

He settled back in his seat before he gestured Alessio forward. Quickly, he spoke into Alessio’s ear. Alessio nodded and left the room.

“Father—”

“What do you want, Alessandro?” He sat forward and stared me down.

“I want to talk. To get help. Can we do that? Alone?” I glanced at the German muscle behind him.

Matteo surveyed me for a moment before nodding. Klaus said nothing and left the room, leaving just us.

“If you’re asking me to go to Dominic, my answer is no?—”

“That’s not what I’m asking,” I cut in. “You have your reasons. You don’t need to explain them to me, Father.”

Matteo’s shoulders relaxed, and he offered me a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Fine. What is it you need?”

I took a moment to gather my thoughts before I spoke. “I’m searching for Bianca.”

Matteo raised his dark brows at me. “Alessandro, I would assume Dominic has buried his wife. Perhaps his men would know where?—”

I shook my head. “No, Father. I believe she may still be alive. That this is all just a ruse of some sort.”

He sat back in his seat and steepled his fingers, his eyes locked on me. “Tell me why you believe this.”

I sighed. “I don’t really know. It’s a gut feeling.” I didn’t want to tell him about Enzo asking me. I looked to my hands, all my thoughts on Rosalie. I needed to join them. I needed it more than my next breath.

“Alessandro, look at me,” he commanded softly.

I dragged my gaze upwards and stared at him.

“Tell me the truth,” he said.

Fuck, get your emotions in check.

“There’s this girl?—”

“Rosalie.” He smiled at me.

“Right,” I muttered. “I-I want her. These feelings are driving me insane. I can barely eat. Hell, I can barely breathe without her.”

Matteo nodded. “You are in love, my son.”

I nodded miserably. “I am.”

“So why not tell the girl? Tell her and take her.”

“I can’t.” I shook my head. “It would hurt her. The last thing I want to do is hurt her. If I can find Bianca, then I can…”

Matteo watched me as I struggled to find the words that wouldn’t fuck everything up.

“Impress upon Lorenzo De Luca,” he finally finished for me. “He would grant you access.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

“What else?” he pressed.

Fuck. The man was intuitive. For some reason, I was more open around him even when I tried not to be.

I remained silent, rolling everything over in my head and hoping I didn’t fuck it all to hell by coming here. I knew what sort of man my father was, but there was this little part of me that was desperate for my dad, the man whose lap I’d sit on and who would tell me the most amazing stories, to be here for me without his brand of violence.