Chapter Five
Elena
The kiss lasts exactly four seconds before Alessandro pulls away like he’s been burned.
“We can’t do this,” he says, his voice rough. He’s still close enough that his breath ghosts across my lips. “Elena, you don’t understand what you’re getting into.”
“You’re in the mafia. You deal with dangerous people. Someone might try to hurt me to get to you.” My heart is hammering, but my voice stays steady. “Did I miss anything?”
“It’s not that simple—”
“It’s exactly that simple. You’re dangerous. I’m probably insane for not running screaming. But here’s the thing, Alessandro, I’m a grown woman who can make her own decisions. And I’m deciding I want to keep seeing you.”
He stares at me as if I’ve grown a second head. “You could get hurt.”
“I could get hit by a bus tomorrow. Life doesn’t come with guarantees.”
“This is different.”
“Is it?” I step closer, emboldened by the way his eyes darken when I do. “Because from where I’m standing, you’re offering me honesty. Real honesty. How many relationships start with complete transparency about the ugly parts?”
“Most relationships don’t involve organized crime.”
“True. But most relationships don’t involve three-dozen-rose apologies either, so we’re already off to a unique start.”
The corner of his mouth twitches. Almost a smile. “You’re insane.”
“Probably. But I’m also stubborn as hell, ask anyone who knows me, and when I want something, I don’t give up easily.” I reach up and touch his face, feeling the scratch of stubble under my palm. “I want this. I want you. Even knowing what I know.”
“Elena—”
“Stop trying to protect me from yourself. Let me make my own choices.” My thumb brushes across his cheekbone. “Unless you don’t want this? Unless I’m reading this all wrong and you’re trying to let me down easy?”
His hands come up to grip my waist, pulling me closer. “You’re not reading it wrong.”
“Then stop arguing with me.”
“I don’t think you understand how difficult that is.” But there’s warmth in his eyes now, something almost like wonder. “You should be afraid of me.”
“Maybe I should be. But I’m not.” And it’s true. Standing here in my apartment with a self-admitted crime boss, I feel safer than I have with any other man. “Here’s what’s going to happen. We’re going to keep dating. But on my terms this time.”
“Your terms?”
“My terms. Which means no more fancy restaurants where people try to kill you. No more drivers. No more oversized romantic gestures.” I poke him in the chest. “Next time, we do something normal. Something fun. Something where you can’t brood in an Armani suit.”
“I don’t brood.”
“You absolutely brood. It’s one of your most defining characteristics.”
He almost smiles again. “What did you have in mind?”
“The Christmas market in Pike Place. Tomorrow night. We’ll get hot chocolate, look at overpriced crafts, and you can win me a stuffed animal at one of those rigged carnival games.”
“That sounds...”
“Normal? Boring? Not nearly dramatic enough for a mafia boss?”
“Perfect,” he says quietly. “It sounds perfect.”
The word hangs between us, warm and promising. He’s still holding my waist, his thumbs making small circles that send sparks up my spine.
“You should go,” I whisper, even though leaving is the last thing I want him to do.
“I should.”
Neither of us moves.
“Alessandro.”
“Mmm?”
“If you don’t leave now, I’m going to kiss you again. And then I’m going to invite you to stay. And then...” I trail off, suddenly shy.
His eyes go almost black. “And then?”
“And then I think we both know where this would go. But I don’t want that yet. Not until I’m sure you’re not going to disappear on me the moment things get complicated.”
“Things are already complicated.”
“More complicated, then.”
He leans his forehead against mine, breathing hard. “You’re killing me.”
“Good. Consider it payback for the emotional whiplash of the past three days.”
This time he does smile, a real smile that transforms his whole face. “Tomorrow night. The Christmas market.”
“Six o’clock. And Alessandro? Wear jeans.”
“I don’t think I own jeans.”
“Then buy some. No suits allowed.”
He kisses my forehead, it’s soft, sweet, devastating and then he’s gone, leaving me standing alone in my apartment with my heart racing and my lips tingling and the distinct feeling my life has gone completely off the rails.
Mira is going to lose her mind when I tell her.
The next evening, I change my outfit three times before settling on dark jeans, boots, and a cream-colored sweater under my favorite red coat. My hair is down and wavy, and I’ve added actual makeup this time, mascara, a touch of blush, lipstick in a shade called “kiss me if you dare.”
Maybe I’m being too obvious.
At exactly six o’clock, because of course he’s exactly on time, there’s a knock at the shop door.
When I open it, my jaw nearly drops.
Alessandro De Luca is wearing jeans.
Dark wash, perfectly fitted, paired with a black henley and a charcoal wool coat. His hair is slightly less styled than usual, and he looks... God help me, he looks edible.
“You own jeans,” I manage.
“I bought them this afternoon.” He does a self-conscious half-turn. “Are they acceptable?”
“They’re more than acceptable.” Understatement of the century. “You look good. Really good.”
“So do you.” His eyes travel over me slowly, appreciatively, and heat pools low in my belly. “Beautiful.”
“Flatterer.”
“Honest.” He offers his arm. “Shall we?”
The Christmas market at Pike Place is packed with people, couples holding hands, families with kids sticky from candy canes, tourists taking photos of the lights.
The air smells like roasted chestnuts and cinnamon, and every booth seems to be playing different Christmas music, creating a cheerful cacophony.
Alessandro looks like he’s been dropped into an alien landscape.
“There are so many people,” he mutters, his hand finding the small of my back as we navigate through the crowd.
“It’s a popular event. Come on, let’s get hot chocolate.”
We wait in line at a booth decorated with twinkling lights and artificial snow. Alessandro keeps scanning the crowd, his body tense, and I realize he’s not overwhelmed by the people, he’s assessing threats.
“Hey.” I touch his arm. “We’re safe here. It’s a public place with families and security and about a thousand witnesses.”
“That’s what worries me.”
“Alessandro. Look at me.” When he does, I see the concern in his dark eyes. “I need you to try to relax. Just for tonight. Can you do that?”
He takes a deep breath, then nods. “I can try.”
We order hot chocolate, extra whipped cream for me, dark chocolate for him, and wander through the market.
The stalls are filled with handmade ornaments, knitted scarves, artisan soaps, wooden toys.
Everything is decorated with pine boughs and red ribbons and fairy lights that make the whole scene feel magical.
“This is nice,” Alessandro admits after we’ve been walking for a while. He’s relaxed incrementally, his shoulders no longer rigid. “I haven’t done something like this in years.”
“When was the last time?”
“I was maybe ten. My father took me to a Christmas market in Naples.” There’s fondness in his voice, but also sadness. “He bought me roasted chestnuts and let me stay up past my bedtime looking at the lights.”
“That’s a good memory.”
“One of the last good ones, before...” He trails off.
“Before he died?”
“Before everything changed.” He stops at a booth selling wooden ornaments, picking up a hand-carved angel. “He wasn’t always in the life. He tried to go legitimate when I was young. But the family pulled him back in.”
“The family. You mean—”
“The mafia, yes. It’s... it’s hard to leave. Once you’re in, you’re in for life.” He sets the angel down carefully. “I didn’t have a choice. When he died, the business became mine. The responsibilities, the territory, the blood, all of it.”
My heart aches for him. For the boy who lost his father and inherited a nightmare. “Alessandro—”
“You should know what you’re getting into,” he continues, still not looking at me. “I can’t just walk away. This is my life. Violence, danger, difficult choices. I can try to keep you separate from it, but eventually, the two worlds will collide. They always do.”
“Then we’ll deal with it when it happens.”
“Elena—”
“No.” I step in front of him, forcing him to meet my eyes. “I heard you. I understand the risks. And I’m still here. Can we please enjoy tonight? Can we pretend, even for a few hours, we’re normal people on a normal date at a Christmas market?”
He studies my face for a long moment, then something in him softens. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay. Normal date. Normal people.” He takes my hand, lacing our fingers together. “Where to next?”
We spend the next hour exploring. Alessandro wins me a stuffed penguin at the ring toss, it takes him six tries, and the competitive gleam in his eyes makes me laugh.
We sample fudge from a chocolate booth, and I discover he has a secret sweet tooth.
We look at hand-blown glass ornaments, and he buys me a delicate snowflake before I can protest.
“For your tree,” he says simply.
“You’re going to spoil me.”
“That’s the plan.”
The way he says it, very casual but completely sincere, makes my stomach flutter.
We end up near the center of the market, where strings of fairy lights are draped overhead in a canopy of twinkling gold. An acoustic guitarist is playing “Silent Night,” and a few couples are swaying together despite the lack of a dance floor.
“Dance with me,” Alessandro says suddenly.
“Here? Now?”
“Why not? You wanted normal.” He pulls me closer, one hand on my waist, the other still holding mine. “This is normal.”
“You’re full of surprises tonight.”
“Good surprises?”
“The best kind.”
We sway together, not quite in time with the music, surrounded by strangers and Christmas lights and the soft fall of snowflakes that have started drifting down from the dark sky.