30
H er parents' garden was packed with an amalgam of relatives and made men. It was the first family reunion in months, and the crowd was loud and animated, just as expected given the occasion.
Grabbing her clutch, Alessandra excused herself from the group of women and headed inside.
Roman had left with her father some time ago, and she couldn't find it in herself to listen to her aunt Francesca's stories about her aching joints and numerous trips to the doctor’s office for another minute.
She was almost at the patio doors when she spotted Matteo at the open bar, chatting to a girl she recognized as the daughter of one her father’s capos.
She didn't linger to watch their interaction, but considering her brother's relaxed posture and the smile on his face, she concluded that he liked the girl enough to actually have a conversation with her.
As much as Alessandra loved her brother, she was the first one to admit that he was a shameless womanizer.
Their mother was convinced he would never marry and therefore ruin the family name by refusing to settle down.
Despite Gabriella's dramatics, everyone knew the life of a bachelor was not in the cards for Matteo.
Having a family was mandatory for a man of his status who would one day carry the responsibility of the Outfit on his shoulders.
Leaving her brother to his own devices, Alessandra walked inside the house. She was about to take a turn in the hallway when a hand grabbed her arm, stopping her.
“ Bella , wait.”
She looked up to meet Luca’s gaze and irritation filled her instantly. Just seeing his face made her want to smack him for all the unnecessary suffering he'd caused her with his recklessness. Managing to keep her calm, she took a step back, shaking off his hold on her. “Luca, just... don't.”
He watched her with a somber expression, shoving his now empty hand into his pocket. “I need to talk to you. Please. Give me five minutes.”
“What do you want?”
“To apologize. I'm sorry I put you in danger. I swear to you that I didn't mean it.”
She glanced around to make sure they were indeed alone. “I'm fine now.”
“I wanted to call you; make sure you were okay.” His brown eyes carried a hint of regret as they fixed on her face. “But then I thought he might be around, and I didn't want to make things worse for you.”
Alessandra shook her head, her irritation growing with each passing minute. She didn’t doubt that he could have reached her if he really wanted to, despite her blocking his number. “At least you had the good sense to also think about me this time.”
He looked away for a second, as if her words affected him. “Did he hurt you?”
“No.”
He returned his gaze to her, and the expression on his face told her that he was trying to identify the lie in her response. When he could find nothing, he sighed, and his eyes softened as they flitted over her silhouette. “You look beautiful. He treats you well?”
“Yes,” she said more quietly, his concern making her uncomfortable because she didn’t know how to feel about it. “Look, I have to go. He can't see us together.”
She attempted to pass by him, but he grabbed her wrist to stop her. “Wait.”
“Luca, please .” Alessandra glanced behind her, afraid someone might see them through the glass doors. “You've caused me enough problems.”
When her eyes moved back to him, she realized his were glued to the side of her neck, where it met her shoulder. His jaw set menacingly. “He fucking hits you?”
“What?” Her fingers touched the spot he was staring at just as realization hit her. She had covered whatever was left of her bruises with foundation, but apparently, she hadn't done a good enough job. “No, of course not.”
“There’s a fucking bruise on your neck,” Luca gritted, and he looked like he was on the verge of exploding into a fit of rage. She'd never known him to be a temperamental man, and his reaction took her by surprise. “You lied to me.”
“Roman doesn't hit me,” she insisted, and silently thanked the Heavens her brother hadn't noticed as well.
Matteo would have made a scene, and the last thing anyone needed was for her husband and her brother to get into a fight with an audience.
“I got this bruise by being clumsy, but that's none of your business, Luca.
And don't even think to tell Matty about it.
Neither of you has the right to interfere in my life—you even less so than him. I'm happy, okay? He makes me happy.”
He stared at her, trying to decide if she was telling the truth.
Afraid he would try to dig deeper into why she had that bruise in the first place, she hurried past him, desperate to put some distance between them.
“I miss you,” Luca said from behind her, desperation seeping into his voice.
Picking up the pace, Alessandra rounded the corner into the foyer and headed up the stairs to her old room.
She didn’t miss him in the least.
???
The two knocks on the door startled her. She hadn't expected anyone to come looking for her in her childhood bedroom. Before she could open her mouth, the door opened, and her father stepped inside.
Alessandra closed the old magazine she'd been leafing through and sat up straighter on the edge of the bed.
“I thought I’d find you here,” Nero said with a smile that reminded her of better times.
He closed the door behind him and took a few steps in her direction.
“When you were little, you used to hide in your room every time we had guests over. I would always find you in here, curled up with a coloring book and your favorite doll.”
When she said nothing, his smile slowly faded into a neutral expression. “Your husband is looking for you.”
“My feet were hurting.” She lied easily, wondering what he was really doing there. He could have sent Roman upstairs to find her, but he hadn’t. And as much as she wished differently, he wasn’t one for idle conversation either.
Nero glanced at her feet, still wearing the silver heels, before moving his gaze to her face. “How do you find your new life as a married woman?”
Alessandra hated when he pretended to care about something, only to follow his own agenda in the end. This time was no exception. “It's good.”
“I hear you've been to Europe.”
“Yeah.”
“Monte Carlo, hmm?”
She simply nodded in confirmation.
He turned to inspect a wooden figure lying on the nightstand.
The faceless mannequin was sitting down with its legs spread wide and its arms raised, looking as if it was asking for help.
Alessandra remembered leaving it like that the night before her wedding.
“You're being a good wife for the Russian?”
Behind her ribcage, Alessandra's heart fluttered awkwardly, and she felt her chest fill with resentment. “Yes, Papà.”
“Good.” Satisfied with her answer, he looked up and held her gaze.
But then his eyes moved lower, and she saw the exact moment when they caught on the faint bruise on her neck. He took a step closer and raised his hand, brushing a thumb over the spot. His expression grew thoughtful.
Alessandra's pulse quickened; afraid he might start asking questions she wouldn't know how to answer. She silently berated herself for not having fixed the issue as soon as she was behind a closed door.
Instead of verbally acknowledging the marks of physical violence on his daughter, Nero's touch lingered on her skin for a moment longer. “He seems pleased with you. Don't do anything to ruin it.”
Alessandra was rendered speechless.
Before her brain could fully absorb the fact that her own father seemed more interested in a stranger’s happiness than hers, he turned on his heels and left the room.
The love she had for him died a little more, leaving room for hatred and a strong feeling of disgust that tasted like bile in her mouth and nearly turned her stomach.
???
“Congrats. You survived your first famiglia get-together.”
Behind back shades, Roman smirked, his posture relaxed as he drove them back home. “It wasn't so bad.”
“What did my papà want with you?”
“We talked, braided each other's hair. You know, the usual shit.”
She felt her lips curve up. “Such a filthy mouth.”
“You love my mouth and everything it can do to you.”
She stifled a laugh, letting her head loll to the side on the headrest as she gazed at him with stars in her eyes.
She wasn’t going to let her conversation with her father affect her mood.
Not anymore. Besides, she didn’t really care what he’d had to say to Roman because she knew that no matter what, her husband would always have her back.
“I love you.”
Roman kept his eyes on the road, but his hand grabbed hers and brought it to his lips. “I love you, too, baby.”
“Can we stop for gelato?”
“We can do whatever you want.”
“There's this place I've always wanted to try but couldn't because I wasn't allowed in this part of the city.”
Roman reached into the center console and handed her his cell phone after unlocking it. “Find the address.”
Alessandra didn’t miss the implications of him giving her his phone. She tried not to dwell on the memory of their fight when she’d touched it without permission. They were in a better place now, and she trusted him more than ever.
She pulled up the internet browser and typed in the name of the joint. After finding the address, she told it to him and returned the phone.
At the next stop, Roman put the address into the navigation system then stole a glance at her. “You look happier.”
“I feel better, I guess. The party was nice. Plus, no one got shot.”
A smile touched his lips. “Your father shoot family members at parties often?”
“No… but you were there, and Luca was also there...”
“He deserves at least a good beating. If I ever get my hands on him again, he's not getting away with his limbs intact.”
Although she agreed with him to some extent, she didn't voice it. “Thank you for not telling my father.”
“I didn't do it for that prick.”
She touched his thigh, feeling the strong muscle underneath. “I know.”
And they left it at that.