48
Liv
Paola helped me get ready.
I left my hair natural, curly but tamed, and she did my makeup simple, yet parent-appropriate.
Now I’m sitting in the car with Alessio, who’s rocking his usual black-on-black button-down and slacks combo.
His sleeves are rolled up, showing off all that ink, and the first few buttons of his shirt are undone, giving him that effortless I own the world look.
I’ve been thinking about Paola’s words since I got in the car, and my mind won’t stop spinning.
“It’s just dinner, and I’ll be with you,” Alessio says, his arm reaching out to grab my hand, lacing our fingers together.
I blink, realizing he thinks I’m nervous about meeting his parents.
Which, honestly, I wasn’t even freaking out about until he said something.
I force a weak smile as he gently squeezes my hand, holding it on his lap .
“I know,” I lie, even though there’s no way in hell I’m telling him the truth.
That I’m stuck in this mess of wanting him so badly it hurts, while also wanting to run like hell in the opposite direction.
I don’t even know what I want anymore.
Just that I can’t say it out loud without everything falling apart.
The drive is shorter than I expected.
I didn’t realize how close Alessio’s parents live to him, not that I ever really thought about it.
We pull up to what looks like a smaller, yet still massive, version of the White House, complete with looming security at the gates.
Alessio stops at the gate, and an armed guard approaches us.
He rolls down his window, and they let him through without asking any questions.
We park out front, and I’m half expecting a valet to open my door.
We step out of the car, a petite woman, maybe 5’3” with the same sandy-brown hair as Alessio, walks out the door and onto the porch, smiling like she’s been waiting for this moment her whole life.
We meet her at the door.
“Oh, Alessandro, I’m so glad you brought your fiancée,” she gushes, walking straight to him and pulling him into a hug.
I glance at Alessio, watching his massive frame practically swallow hers.
There’s a softness in his expression, something he doesn’t show often .
“Hi, Mom.” He hugs her tighter before pulling back.
“How was your trip?”
“Very good, dear.” She turns to me with a warm smile.
“And you must be Olivia. I’m Stella. It’s so nice to meet you.” Stella sounds sweet, like she’s been waiting for this exact moment and somehow already decided to like me.
Or maybe she’s just really good at pretending.
Either way, I nod, forcing a polite smile even though my stomach’s doing flips.
I nod again like an idiot, suddenly unsure of how to act.
I’ve never done the whole meeting-the-parents thing before.
“It’s so nice to meet you,” I say, extending my hand to shake hers.
She laughs lightly, waving off my handshake like it’s ridiculous before pulling me into a hug.
And not just any hug, a mom hug.
Tight, warm, and the kind that makes you feel like you belong somewhere.
The kind I haven’t had in way too long.
My eyes sting as I hug her back, matching her embrace.
There’s something so familiar about it, something I didn’t even realize I’d been missing until now.
When his sisters, Lexi, fifteen, and Aly, twenty-nine, come out, they’re just as welcoming, both hugging me.
It throws me off for a second; I’m not used to such warm welcomes.
Growing up, it was always just Clover and me.
There were no big family dinners, no warm greetings, and definitely no sister hugs.
This kind of easy affection feels foreign, but not in a bad way, just new.
Alessio excuses himself to get his dad, leaving me alone with his mom and sisters.
We make our way inside and into the living room, which is as grand as I expected from the outside.
The walls are a soft, neutral shade, accented with gold-trimmed molding.
A massive chandelier hangs from the ceiling.
Plush leather sofas surround a marble coffee table, and the built-in bookshelves are filled with hardcovers, each one perfectly arranged and not a single spine out of place.
It looks straight out of a magazine, luxurious but still inviting.
We all sit on the couches, and they’re chatty, making conversation so effortlessly that within minutes, it feels like they’ve known me forever.
It’s surreal having them include me so easily, like I belong here.
Then Alessio walks back in, his dad at his side.
“Alessandro, my love,” his mom says with a smile.
“I’d like to introduce you to Olivia.”
My stomach twists as his dad walks over, his eyes locked on me.
Same sharp blue as Alessio’s, he’s the seasoned version of him with salt and pepper hair, fewer tattoos, but there’s ink on his arms where his sleeves are rolled up.
But it’s not just his looks that throw me off.
It’s how he’s looking at me, like he knows me, or has seen me before.
“It’s been a while, Olivia,” he says, reaching out to shake my hand.
I extend mine without thinking, until I see the knife.
Not in his hand, but on his forearm.
Inked into his skin.
It’s buried under more ink, but now that I’m staring at it up close, there’s no mistaking the shape.
It looks exactly like Ruby’s demon-killing knife, and my whole body locks up.
I know him and I know that fucking tattoo.
My fingers tighten around his hand, my other gripping his wrist, pulling his arm toward me to get a better look at it.
I will never forget this tattoo.
I dreamed of it so many nights and never thought I’d see it again in person.
My pulse is hammering so loud I swear the whole damn room can hear it.
Everyone is staring at me, or maybe him, but it’s probably at the death grip I have on his arm, like I’m afraid to let go.
Like I’m afraid of what’ll happen if I do.
“You know each other?” Alessio asks, stepping in front of us, his eyes darting between me and his father, then to my iron grip on the man’s arm.
I don’t answer Alessio, I can’t.
Because I’m too busy staring at this man’s arm like it holds all the answers to my fucked-up life.
Like, maybe if I stare hard enough, it’ll make sense.
“You’re him,” I say, more to myself than him, looking back and forth from his tattoo to his face.
His expression doesn’t change.
He gives me nothing except a slow nod, like this is just another family dinner.
“I’m him.”
My chest tightens, and I force myself to look away from the tattoo.
I stare at his face, but my brain is still buffering, still trying to piece this together.
The man standing in front of me is Alessio’s father, one of the last people I saw before my whole life got flipped upside down.
He was the one who took me away that night.
And now, here he is.
Or I’m here, since I’m in his house.
“You’re the man with the knife tattoo? It’s barely fucking there!” Alessio shouts, storming forward.
He grabs his dad’s arm with my hand still caught in it and yanks it up to get a better look.
His eyes are locked on the ink buried beneath a mess of newer tattoos.
All flesh and blood.
No longer a nightmare but standing right in front of me like fate’s playing the sickest joke ever.
“Would someone like to tell me what the fuck’s going on?” Alessio snaps, ripping our hands apart, like that’ll somehow break whatever the hell this is.
Like he’s pissed he’s out of the loop.
His father, this man, exhales, looking between me and Alessio, before clasping his hands together.
“Well,” he says calmly, like we’re discussing what Stella’s making for dinner, “I suppose you have a lot of questions.”
No fucking shit…
but I don’t say that because every word is now lodged in my throat, stuck behind the million thoughts racing through my head.
So, I nod, with my mouth wide open in shock.
“I have one fucking question that nobody seemed to hear ten seconds ago,” Alessio barks.
But before either of us can answer, the doorbell rings, breaking me out of my mini panic-fueled trance.
The man who took me from my home and brought me to Clover is standing right in front of me.
And Alessio’s reaction only confirms what I already suspected, he has no fucking clue what’s going on.
From the corner of my eye, I see Stella walking toward the door.
“Lexi, Aly, go upstairs for a minute,” Alessandro Sr.
says.
And for a second, I almost forgot they were still here.
Then— “Livy.” I spin around so fast I nearly give myself whiplash.
Clover.
It’s been months since I’ve seen him, and without thinking, I walk straight to him, wrapping my arms around his waist.
His spicy aftershave hits me, grounding me back to reality.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, my voice muffled against his chest.
“That was my question,” Clover jokes.
“But you do have some explaining to do,” he adds, trying to sound stern, even though he’s terrible at it.
“Isn’t that my question?” I fire back, matching his tone with a smile.
“Welp,” he sighs, tilting his head.
“I was told your cousin came after you, and if it weren’t for this guy—” he jerks a thumb toward Alessio, “you’d be dead right now. Your uncle knows where you are… am I missing anything?” He taps his chin, pretending to think.
“Oh, right! And you’re getting married to a Gualtiero. Did I leave anything out?”
I sigh, stepping back and crossing my arms.
“Nope, that pretty much sums it up.”
Clover raises a brow.
“Well, that’s fucking fantastic, Liv. You know, I thought you were better than this. I thought you were traveling the world, ” he throws up air quotes, “not sneaking around with the mafia.”
I roll my eyes.
“Oh, please. You act like I chose any of this.”
“That’s true, you would’ve picked different,” Clover says.
Alessio, who’s been silently watching this exchange like he’s two seconds from throwing Clover out, steps forward.
“I’m standing right here, asshole.”
Clover waves him off.
“Yeah, yeah, relax, Romeo. I know you saved her, and for that, I don’t hate you, yet. But I do have questions.” He turns back to me.
“Starting with what the hell you’re doing here and why Alessandro-fucking-Gualtiero looks like he’s about to start a family reunion, by flying me in on his personal jet. ”
My stomach twists.
I glance at Alessandro Sr, who’s been watching this whole thing unfold like he’s waiting for the perfect moment to drop another bomb on me.
“I was hoping you had the answer to that,” I mutter, looking between Clover and Alessandro.
“Because I’m still trying to figure out how the hell he was the last person I saw before I was dumped on your doorstep.”
“Livy, you were never dumped. It was for your own protection.”
“For the love of everything fucking holy, will someone please tell me what in the actual fuck is going on?” Alessio demands, yanking me backward and wrapping an arm around me like Clover isn’t the man who raised me for most of my life.
“Fuck,” Alessandro mutters under his breath as he and Clover exchange a look.
“Fucking spill it before I lose my goddamn shit already,” Alessio snaps.
Clover glares at him like he’s two seconds from throwing a punch.
He doesn’t take well to being screamed at, especially when it comes to me.
He’s always been protective, and even though he didn’t want me to leave, he couldn’t stop me when I told him I wanted to .
Alessandro exhales sharply, his gaze shifting to Clover.
“Fifteen years is long enough to keep this secret. You want to tell it, or should I?”
Clover lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head.
“Well, then, should we all sit down?”