8
T he next day, Alessandra woke up to an empty bed.
For a second, she was confused as she took in the unfamiliar room, but as she became more alert, memories from the night before infiltrated her mind.
She sat up, the sheet covering her body falling into her lap.
The bathroom door was wide open, the lights off.
She listened for any sounds that could alert her of Roman’s presence, though there were none.
Stifling a yawn behind her hand, she stood and padded into the bathroom.
As she walked, a dull soreness made itself known between her legs—a reminder of her wedding night and her husband’s claim on her body.
She used the toilet with a small grimace, hoping the uncomfortable feeling would go away soon.
After brushing her teeth and making sure her hair looked presentable, she left the bathroom still wearing her nightie and headed downstairs with leisured steps.
It didn’t take her long to locate the kitchen as Roman had already given her a short tour the previous night.
She found him perched up on a high stool at the island, bare-chested and looking as if he hadn’t been up for long himself.
He frowned down at something on his phone, and Alessandra took a moment to admire the bulging muscles on his torso and arms. She’d gotten a good look during their intimate moments in bed, but in this light, he looked like some sort of modern Adonis—almost too perfect to be real.
She shifted her weight from one leg to the other and the motion got Roman’s attention. He looked up at her standing in the threshold, his eyes traveling down her body before meeting hers.
“Morning,” she said quietly, trying not to fidget under the weight of his attention.
“Good morning. Sleep well?”
She had, in fact, slept quite well, and she told him that.
“Yeah. I thought the new bed might be an issue, but once I fell asleep, it was fine.”
“It took you a while to fall asleep.”
She was surprised he’d noticed as he hadn’t moved too much in bed and she’d assumed that he was already sleeping.
It had been strange to share a bed with someone she didn’t know.
As much as she’d willed herself to be still, she’d tossed and turned for at least twenty minutes before sleep finally came.
“A little while, yeah.”
He kept her gaze a moment longer before pushing out the stool next to him with his foot. “Take a seat.”
Alessandra walked that way and perched herself up on the stool. She noticed the cup of black coffee sitting on the island, taking inventory of this small detail about her husband. Roman saw her looking. “You drink coffee?”
“I do.”
“We have milk in the fridge, but I’m not sure about sugar. I didn’t check the cupboards.”
“That’s fine,” she said with a soft smile, still feeling a little awkward around him. “Did you buy groceries?”
“No. Tatyana helped with that.”
“Your sister is nice.”
He didn’t comment on that. Reaching for the cup, he took a sip. “Are you sore?”
She fought a blush, not needing to ask what he meant by that. “A little.”
“I don’t think there’s any pain medication in the house, but I can buy some later.”
“I’m okay. Are you going out?”
“Yes.”
She nodded, knowing it wasn’t her place to ask where he was going. Her hands stayed in her lap, fingers toying with the hem of her nightie. Roman’s eyes drifted across her chest, lingering there for a second before he took another drink of coffee. “You cook?”
Did he expect her to?
Alessandra not only did not cook; she hadn’t boiled a single egg in her entire life. Even though her mother was a decent cook, they had staff for that, and her parents had never expected her to learn that particular skill. She’d assumed it would be the same in her new home.
“Not really,” she admitted, watching his face for signs of displeasure. He gave none.
Roman nodded, as if expecting her answer. “Takeout it is; at least until I figure something out. If you’re hungry, there’s yoghurt and other things in the fridge.”
“Okay.”
“Your clothes and personal items will arrive this afternoon. I won’t be home, but I already instructed Andrei to carry everything upstairs, so you don’t have to.”
“Andrei?”
“One of my men.”
“Right.”
Roman watched her closely. “What?”
“Nothing. I just thought my brother would deliver them.”
“No,” he said without inflection. “Your brother won’t step foot into Bratva territory unless he absolutely has to.”
She let out a soft sigh then got up and walked to the fridge to hide the disappointment on her face.
She opened the door and peered inside, noticing it was well stocked.
Grabbing a yoghurt and some strawberries, she set out to prepare a light breakfast. As she cut the fruit into a bowl, a question popped up in her mind, and she decided to address it now while Roman seemed in an amiable mood.
“What do you do for your father?”
She heard the cup being set down on the island, though she didn’t turn to face him.
“I’m a Brigadier. Kind of like your Caporegime.”
He pronounced the word with an atrocious accent, and she couldn’t fight a smile. “So, you’re in charge of other people?”
“Something like that. How much do you know about your father’s organization?”
“Not that much, but I know what a Capo is.”
“Interesting.”
At that, her hand stilled on the knife. She turned to look at him. “What’s interesting?”
“I’m surprised you know the hierarchy. I assumed he would have kept you completely in the dark.”
“He tried to, but sometimes the walls were thin in our house.”
Roman ran a hand over his mouth, and she thought that he was trying to hide his amusement. “Were you snooping around?”
“No. I just happened to hear some things. Papà talks loudly.”
The amusement dropped from his face a moment later. “You don’t speak of anything you may hear inside this house. Not to your friends, not to your brother, and definitely not to your parents. Is that clear?”
She swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat. He didn’t look so amiable when he demanded discretion, the hint of a warning coloring his voice. “Yes.”
“Good.” He stood, draining the last of his coffee and putting the empty cup in the sink. “I’m going to shower and change. Enjoy your breakfast.”
Alessandra watched his departing form and didn’t like the feeling of trepidation washing over her. She didn’t want to know how he would react if she ever crossed him somehow.
???
Roman was gone before Alessandra had even finished her breakfast. Left alone in the large house, she tried to figure out what to do with herself.
After exploring the first floor for a little while, she decided to go back to the bedroom.
The bed was unmade, the sheets left in the same state of disarray as when she’d untangled herself from them earlier.
She located her phone on the nightstand and contemplated calling her mother, knowing she was probably going crazy with worry by now. The decision made, she quickly found the number and waited for the call to connect.
“Alessandra.” It was her father’s voice, and she started at the deep sound of it.
“Papà?”
“Your mother is busy. How are you, figlia mia ?”
Although it sounded as if he was concerned with her wellbeing, Alessandra knew better. His question conveyed a different meaning she was painfully aware of.
“I’m good.”
“Yes?”
“Yeah.”
“And your husband?”
“He left some time ago.”
Nero exhaled a deep breath, and she knew that he was getting annoyed with her. “Are you behaving?”
“I…” She trailed off, not even sure how to reply to that.
“Remember what I told you. You’ll have more to gain from your husband being pleased with you than the alternative. Do you understand?”
She fought the bile rising in her throat. “I understand.”
“Good. Someone will be here later to pick up your clothes.”
“I know.”
He paused, and Alessandra thought he was finally going to offer some reassuring words. Instead, he cleared his throat and said in a neutral voice, “I’ll let your mother know that you called.”
When he hung up, Alessandra collapsed on the floor and tucked her legs up to her chin. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she didn’t bother to hide them. No one would see them anyway.
As she sat on the floor, crying, frustration clawed at her skin. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t cry anymore. She’d promised herself she would be strong. Yet, a few careless words from her father, and she was a mess, all emotions bursting out of her like an open dam.
On the floor beside her, her phone pinged with a text, and she glanced at it through blurry vision. She picked it up, wiped her face and read the text from an unknown number.
Let me know if you need anything. Something came up and I’m not sure when I’ll be home.
Her chest tightened with a strange feeling as she recognized Roman behind the message. She didn’t know when he got her number and from whom, though it didn’t really matter. He was being attentive, his attitude toward her a welcome contrast to her father’s cold demeanor.
As her tears dried, she saved the number and thought of how to answer.
Thanks. I’m good, but I appreciate it.
She stared at the phone for another minute, hoping for a reply.
When it didn’t come, she got to her feet and padded into the bathroom for a shower.
The weather outside was beautiful, and she wasn’t going to let her father ruin her mood for the rest of the day.
With that resolution in mind, she closed the door behind her and started undressing.