Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Alessio
Ithought that some time alone would be good for me.
It turns out that sitting in my penthouse all by myself is actually incredibly lonely and sad.
Granted, I’m not completely alone. Several guards came with me to make sure I don’t get killed in my sleep, but I’m used to that.
I hardly notice that they’re there most of the time, and that’s the way it’s supposed to be.
I’m having a hard time believing that sitting on my couch watching television all alone is how it’s supposed to be after marriage though. I should be sleeping in the same bed as Rosalie. Watching shows with her. Cooking and eating dinner with her.
Yet, despite being married to her, I feel lonelier than I ever have before.
It’s not only her fault. In fact, after our little confrontation at the gala, Rosalie seems to be trying to be more…friendly. She said goodnight and good morning following that discussion and even messaged me tonight saying she wants to have breakfast together tomorrow.
I’d say it’s all out of guilt, but I’m not so sure.
I could be over at the Fiorelli’s tonight, but I decided to be stubborn instead.
I set my mug of tea down on the flat arm of the couch and grab the remote off the coffee table, flicking the TV off.
At the same time that I do this, I hear a knock at the front door. I’m not expecting anyone, so at first, I don’t get up to answer it. Then I think…well, who could it be? Maybe something has happened while I’ve been here.
One would think that I’d hear about it on the phone first, but maybe not.
I decide to get up and answer the door. After all, if it was someone that isn’t supposed to be here, my guards would scare them off or there would be much more of a ruckus than I can hear currently.
The face of Damian is not one I expect after I punch in the security code and open the door. He’s standing here in the dead of night with raindrops in his hair and his shoulders moving with each of his heavy breathes.
The cold air rushes in and goosebumps form on my arms and neck.
“Damian,” I speak slowly. “What are you doing here?”
Despite my confusion, I still step to the side to allow him to come in. He doesn’t, not right away. He stays standing on my doorstep in the cold instead.
There’s a guard standing near the end of my porch watching us curiously. Another guard sits in a car nearby watching the perimeter.
“We need to talk,” Damian says. His voice is low and serious.
The frigid wind ruffles my hair and mingles with the warm air of my penthouse. “Come in then,” I motion as if he can’t see me standing off to the side already.
Damian steps inside and I close the door behind him then reset the security system.
“What’s this about? Is there more information on the Tulo family?” I ask him as I shove my hands into the pockets of my silk pajama pants.
Damian shakes his head. “No, this isn’t about that.”
I glance toward the clock on the wall adjacent the kitchen. “Well, it’s after midnight so this better be good.” I look at him again and narrow my eyes.
Damian shifts on his feet and clears his throat. “You’re not gonna like this, Alessio.”
I take a step back toward the living room, trying to get further away from the cold air still lingering by the entryway. “I don’t like most of what’s been going on lately. What’s new?”
“This is serious,” he growls out. “You might want to kill me after.”
My shoulders tense. “Out with it then, if it’s so goddamn serious.”
Damian steps closer to me, and for a brief second, I think he’s going to step so close that our faces might touch; instead, he steps around me.
Dripping water onto the hardwood floor, leaving wet patches behind his every move.
It irritates me, but I ignore it. If what he says is so important, then worrying about the puddles he’s leaving behind can wait.
“Eivor didn’t just hire me to protect Rosalie,” Damian says.
I tilt my head to the side. “You protect me too. I know that,” I say, but he clicks his tongue.
“I wasn’t finished,” he huffs. He seems worked up already, and it’s causing me to get worked up as well even though I don’t have any idea what he’s here for.
“Fine.” I close my mouth and wait.
“It’s true… I protect you too, but he didn’t hire me to do that. He cares about Rosalie, not you,” Damian explains. This doesn’t surprise me, but I don’t say that. I wait for him to continue. “He hired me to do more than just protect. He hired me to dig into your life.”
I go completely still.
Damian keeps talking. “Eivor hired me to find out some kind of information about you that would give him the upper hand,” he tells me. “Something to use against you and your family.”
I grind my teeth together and just stare at him for a moment as I process his words. Shock and anger build up inside of me like scalding hot water boiling in my veins. It doesn’t start out boiling, though; it starts off warm and flushes my cheeks and neck red.
“You’re right, I do want to kill you,” I hiss at him. I step closer to him, pulling my hands out of my pockets. “You’ve been spying on me this whole time.”
“Yes,” Damian admits without hesitation.
“I trusted you.” My throat is tight and it hurts to swallow. “How can you say you’re here to protect me when you’ve been working against me this entire time?”
I stare into his eyes and watch as he tears his gaze away from mine. I remove the distance between us and grab him by the jaw.
“Don’t you look away from me,” I growl as I force his face back to center and look into it. “How much information did you get on me, huh? What did you find?”
Damian yanks his head away from my hold and I reach out for his shirt instead, grabbing a fistful of it and pulling him closer to me once more.
“Nothing that I’ll give him,” Damian insists. “But…” He stops short.
“But what?” I ask him. “How am I supposed to trust that you won’t use anything I’ve said or anything we’ve done against me?”
Damian scoffs. “You think I would use what we did together against you? That would only get me strung up by my kneecaps.”
“Oh sure, if it’s you that’s in trouble you won’t say anything,” I grip his shirt tighter and he squirms against my hold. “But what if it’s just me? Just my family?”
Damian’s gaze goes even darker. “That’s what I’m here to talk to you about, Les.”
My heart jumps into my throat at that nickname. No one has after called me that before. I’ve gotten Al and Ales from my siblings in the past, but they know I hate it. I usually hate most nicknames.
For some reason that word coming out of Damian’s mouth makes my stomach flutter.
I let go of his shirt and his shoulders relax.
“It’s not exactly…an easy subject to bring up,” Damian admits. “It’s…God, it’s fucking horrible.” He rakes his fingers through his hair and shakes his head.
“Just tell me what you know,” I demand, my breath heavy and my body hot.
Damian closes his eyes. “I know what your father did,” he says.
I stare at him, uncertain. “What do you mean?” I ask. “He’s done a lot of shit, Damian. I need you to be more specific than that.”
“I found pictures,” he finally blurts out and looks back up at me. His eyes are full of dark burning hatred like I’ve never see before. “I was looking in Carmine’s office, your father’s old office… I found photographs of you and Carmine.”
My mind feels like it’s going blank. I don’t understand what he’s referring to. I’m utterly and completely confused.
“Pictures?” I ask slowly, my voice low and quiet. I’m trying to imagine what he could possibly mean, but I keep coming up with…nothing.
“What do you mean pictures?”
Damian sighs and his hands ball into fists. “Disgusting pictures,” he spits out. “Your father…I mean, I can’t imagine anyone else took them…but, pictures your father took of you and Carmine when you were little kids.”
A wall cracks in my mind.
“You were just children,” Damian says with a huff, his eyes starting to glitter with tears.
Flickers of memories come back to me. Things I haven’t thought about for quite some time. I realize what he means all too suddenly, and my stomach aches.
“Oh.” I feel…numb, almost. I can’t feel anything but the floor underneath my feet and the heat coming out from the register just nearby.
It’s quiet. Neither Damian nor I say anything for what feels like hours, but it’s really only a couple minutes.
“He…did that,” I whisper. “I haven’t thought about that in years.”
Damian steps closer to me. “What he did was wrong.”
Suddenly something in my snaps. I look up at Damian and glare at him as the simmering anger from before boils over in my chest and out of my mouth.
“You don’t even know what happened,” I sneer. “You find pictures and you think you know everything about my family, but you don’t.”
“Tell me then,” Damian says, his eyes still wet.
My own eyes burn with tears that I’m trying desperately to hold back.
“How am I supposed to trust you?” I ask him. “How do I know you won’t just take anything I tell you right back to Eivor?”
Damian steps ever closer and puts his hands on my shoulders, but I pull away from him. “Don’t touch me!” I hiss. “Don’t fucking touch me.”
Damian puts his hands up, and now that he’s not touching me, I wish he was. I want to step forward and throw myself against his chest. Feel his strong arms wrap around me.
I don’t for some reason. Perhaps pride.
“I burned the photos,” Damian reassures me. “I would never give Eivor that.”
My fingers twitch and I feel like I can hardly stand on my own two feet, but the emotion inside me is keeping me upright.
“How do I know that?” I ask him, my voice breaking.
Damian’s lashes catch a few of his tears. “Alessio,” he says lowly. “I swear on everything I believe in; I would never hand that or anything else, over to that man. I thought I could work for him, that it would be like any other job, but I was wrong.”
“What changed?” I ask him, my lips quivering.
“You,” he says confidently. “I met you.”