Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Alessio
The second I find out that the front porch of the Fiorelli estate has been blown up, I’m in my car headed over there. Despite Carmine telling me to not get involved. If he’s involved, I’m involved. That’s all there is to it.
Granted, I wasn’t told until an hour after it happened, so by the time I’m pulling into the driveway, Carmine and Soren have already been here just as long.
The porch has been swept up of any debris and the package that exploded is nowhere to be found.
There are several other dark cars pulled up into the driveway, and the door is cracked open when I get to the top of the porch under the car port.
“Is anyone going to fill me in on the details of how this happened?” I ask as I shove the door open the rest of the way. I come face to face with several men who are scraping up bits and pieces of char from the door and floor beside it.
Then I meet Rosalie’s eyes. She’s standing near the staircase, wrapped in a dark red and white Christmas robe despite it being several weeks past the holidays now. Her brow is knit and her arms are folded.
“Are you alright?” I ask her as I approach slowly.
She nods. “I didn’t open the door, Nikolas did.
I’m fine, and he’s fine,” she tells me. I eye her for a second or two and find that she is telling the truth.
She doesn’t look bloodied or burnt anywhere that I can see.
Unless she’s hiding it under her robe. I can’t imagine why she’d lied to me, so I quickly move on to finding my brother.
“Carmine?” I call out.
“I told you to stay out of it, Alessio,” Carmine’s voice comes from the parlor room. There are several mirrors set about along with a dress that hangs over one of them but hidden inside of a tailor’s bag.
Ah, that’s right. Rosalie was trying on her dress today.
“I’m marrying into this family, there’s no staying out of it,” I remind him. “Besides, I’m supposed to be your second. Or has Soren taken my place?” I step up to him with my hands in fists.
“There’s no time for arguing,” Soren interrupts.
“This isn’t about you,” I snap at him, then look back to Carmine. “Up until a month ago, I was the one making sure our family stayed afloat while you were drunk, high, and doing God knows what every single night. Losing yourself.”
“It’s different now, Alessio. You know that,” Carmine insists.
I scoff. “So, you’ve found yourself and you’re ready to take command of this family, good for you, but I’m part of this too. I’m second eldest, I’m not Cassian. I’m not a little boy to be kept out of the fray.”
Carmine sighs. “You’re right. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
“If we spend too much time trying to keep the other alive, we’re going to get killed in the process,” I grumble. “Now, tell me exactly what happened.”
Carmine looks behind my shoulder. “Damian…Rossi, is it? You were here for the impact, why don’t you explain.”
I feel Damian’s presence behind me just like this morning and the hair on the back of my neck stands up.
“Of course, Mr. Dresvanni,” Damian says in a low and professional tone that lacks emotion. It’s different from how he spoke to me at the shooting range.
“During Ms. Fiorelli’s gown fitting this afternoon there was a knock at the door.
Nikolas proceeded to the door. He only opened it partially before I got to him.
I sensed that something was not right. I tackled him to the floor and held the door closed with my feet just as a small package on the porch detonated,” Damian explains.
My heart shoots into my throat. He was right there when it exploded? At the door…holding back the explosion with his feet while Nikolas was shielded underneath him.
“Are you injured?” I blurt out.
Damian steps around me and stands between my brother, Soren, and myself.
“I was minorly burned, but it’s nothing that I can’t handle,” he tells all of us, though his eyes flit over to mine and stay there for a few seconds longer than his words.
“Nikolas is upstairs with Beau cooling off.” Beau is a young man the Fiorelli’s adopted after his family was killed.
They seem to have a thing for adopting orphans.
“Good,” I say simply, reigning myself back. I need to remain composed. I can’t let Carmine find any reason to keep me in the dark or push me away from this.
Besides, isn’t it Damian’s job to do what he did? I should expect the man to get hurt, I should expect all of us to get hurt at this rate. I swallow hard and turn my attention to the more important details.
“How large was the package?” I ask.
“It was quite small. As was the bomb. The technicians are looking over the remaining pieces still, but based on my own experience, I don’t believe the device was intended to kill.”
Carmine clicks his tongue. “If it wasn’t intended to kill, only injure, then perhaps it is serving as a warning,” he suggests.
Eivor walks into the room with a huff. “A warning that I won’t be taking lightly,” he waves his arms and heads over to the alcohol cabinet, immediately grabbing a bottle and pouring a glass of what appears to be whiskey.
“Who do you believe would be warning you, Eivor?” Carmine asks.
“I think it’s fairly obviously,” Soren retorts.
I squint at them, and then look at Eivor, who is taking a drink and shaking his head.
“It’s never as obvious as it seems, boy,” he insists.
Damian hums and steps away from the group, away from me. I realize he does this just as Rosalie walks into the room.
“Shouldn’t I be involved in this conversation?” she asks. “Alessio is, Soren is.”
“The less people that are involved the better, frankly this room is too full for my liking already,” Eivor admits with a sigh.
I glance toward Damian, who has his hands shoved into his suit pockets. I notice that one of his hands is burned, still not covered by any bandage, the raw flesh just out to the open air. His cuff and sleeve are singed and torn all the way up to his elbow.
“Rosalie should have a place here,” I say as I look away from Damian. “After all, the threat may very well be related to our engagement.”
Rosalie looks at me with surprise but quickly hides it and clears her throat. “Yes, I agree.”
“Well, there’s not much to talk about other than who we think sent the threat, the warning,” Soren says slowly. “I believe it’s the Carvels.”
“We haven’t heard from them since I told them our mutual feud against the Dresvanni family was on hold,” Eivor explains. “Sending a bomb is a ridiuclous way to get my attention.”
“How would you do it?” I ask him. “A horse’s head?”
Eivor scoffs. “Excuse me?”
“He’s right, Eivor,” Carmine agrees with me, which makes me smirk. “The Carvels were counting on you, the Fiorellis, to be their army in the fight against us. Now that Rosalie and Alessio are getting married, they’re left alone to fight.”
“I can’t imagine they’re happy about that,” Rosalie cuts in. “We went from working with them to leaving them to their own devices.”
“I’ll need more information about the Carvel family,” Damian says after a moment of silence. “If I’m to keep Rosalie safe from them, I need to know what tricks they may have up their sleeves.”
“I gave you all the information I have,” Eivor tells him.
I sigh. “Alright, are the Carvels our only suspect?” I ask with a raised brow, arms crossed.
The room is quiet. “Until we know for certain who it is, I think someone should accompany Alessio home as well,” Carmine says. “They could very well be after Rosalie and you specifically.” He nods in my direction.
I bite my tongue briefly. “I can handle myself, Brother,” I remind him.
“No one is safe when it comes to a mystery bomber,” he says in return.
I exhale heavily and look toward Damian, who is flexing his injured hand, and his forehead is creased.
“Fine. Why don’t you come up with a list of who else could be involved while I patch up our guard here?” I say. Everyone looks towards Damian in confusion.
“Did you not notice that his burnt flesh is completely uncovered?” I scoff and step over to him.
“I assure you, I’ve had worse,” Damian tells me.
I shake my head. “I’m sure.”
“Go get bandaged up, Mr. Rossi. There’s nothing else we can do at the moment,” Eivor agrees. One of the first times he has ever agreed with me.
Damian follows me out of the parlor room and down the hallway into one of the large bathrooms.
“How bad is the burn really?” I ask him as I close the door almost all the way, leaving only a small crack at the door frame.
“It’s not too bad,” Damian tells me as he tugs his suit jacket off and rolls his sleeves up. “The damage looks worse than it is.”
I frown slightly and open up one of the drawers of the wide cabinet the sink is set into. Then another, until I find a small first aid kit.
“I can do this on my own.” Damian sets a hand on the kit.
I swat his hand away. “Think of it as repaying you for this morning,” I tell him. Though, I’m not really sure why I’m doing it if I’m being honest. Something about the sight of the man being inured just…gets to me.
“Very well,” Damian mumbles.
I take his hand slowly, and look at the burnt skin along the side of his large fingers and palm, up his forearm.
“This will take a couple weeks to heal completely,” I remark. “I’m surprised you didn’t get hurt worse.”
“Like I said, the explosion wasn’t as bad as it seemed.”
I chuckle softly. “Why do I get the feeling you’d say that even if you lost half of your face?”
“I’d be alive, wouldn’t I?”
I shake my head and start to clean up the wound. Damian doesn’t hiss or make any sound of discomfort whatsoever. He just takes it. I know it hurts, though, because his muscles tense every time the cloth touches the burnt flesh, the veins in his hands and arms becoming more prominent.
I chew on my bottom lip for a second before pulling my head together.
“Why are you doing this?” he asks me.