Chapter 23
I grip the countertop, trying to steady my racing thoughts. The smell of fresh coffee fills the kitchen as I wait for the pot to finish brewing. My body still hums with satisfaction, muscles pleasantly sore from taking Melania against the shower wall not thirty minutes ago.
Cazzo.
The coffee machine beeps. I pour two mugs, adding a splash of cream to Melania's.
I hear the water shut off upstairs. She's finishing her second shower of the morning—necessary after I joined her in the first one. My cock stirs at the memory of her wet skin against the tiles, her gasps echoing off the bathroom walls as I took her.
"Focus," I mutter to myself, setting the mugs on the kitchen island.
I take a long sip of black coffee, letting the bitter heat burn away the fog in my brain.
I hear her footsteps on the stairs and straighten my shoulders. When she appears in the doorway, her hair is damp, cheeks flushed from the hot water. She's wearing another set of Lucrezia's clothes—dark jeans and a simple white t-shirt.
"Coffee's ready," I say.
I slide Melania's coffee across the counter, watching her closely. Something's different about her today. The haunted look from yesterday has morphed into something more determined. Her shoulders are squared, her movements more purposeful.
I won't mention it unless she wants to talk. Some demons need to be faced in silence.
"Thank you," she says, wrapping her hands around the mug.
She takes a sip, then looks up at me with those amber eyes that see too much.
"I've been thinking about my father," she says, tapping her fingers against the ceramic mug. "And I realized something. If Raymond kept such detailed records of their business, my father would have done the same."
I raise an eyebrow, waiting.
"My father has several safes in his office," she continues, her voice quickening with excitement. "He's opened all of them in front of me at some point, except for one." She suddenly smacks her palm against her forehead. "God, I'm so stupid!"
"You're many things, piccola . Stupid isn't one of them."
"No, you don't understand." Her eyes are bright now. "I never analysed him enough to question what he kept in there. I just accepted that some things weren't my business. But what if?—"
"What if that safe contains his version of Raymond's records," I finish for her.
"Exactly." She sets down her coffee. "If we could access that safe?—"
"Could your father have a crypto wallet as well?" I ask.
She considers it. "He's more old-school, prefers paper records. But..." she pauses, "it might also be on a USB. He wouldn't trust that something so important would exist only in one format."
I take another sip of coffee, studying Melania's face. She's got that look—the one where her mind is galloping ten steps ahead of her words. The wheels keep turning behind those tiger’s eyes.
"But?" I prompt, knowing there's more.
She sighs, twisting her mother's ring. "But I've hit a wall with Raymond's security. He uses levels I can't pass through. It's the government, right?" Her shoulders slump. "The files we've retrieved so far aren't enough to bring them down. We need more concrete evidence."
"The safe," I say, connecting the dots.
"Yes." She meets my gaze directly.
I set my mug down, my thumb outlining my bottom lip as I consider what she's really asking. "You want to reach Leonardo."
Her eyes widen slightly, surprised by my directness.
"I—" she starts. "Yes. I think we need to."
Merda . I knew putting the idea in her head would lead here. The thought of contacting anyone in the Lombardi family makes my skin crawl but she's right about one thing—we're running out of options.
"If we try hacking that USB again we're risking our lives for the third time," I say bluntly. "And the next time someone might not walk away."
"I know." Her voice is quiet but steady. "That's why we need another approach."
I push away from the counter and pace the kitchen. "Your brother could be completely loyal to your father. He could be setting a trap."
"Or he could help us," she counters. "Leonardo and I... we were close once."
I stop and face her. "It's a massive risk."
"Everything about this is a risk, Alessio." She steps closer, determination hardening her features. "But doing nothing guarantees Raymond and my father will continue to destroy lives. And the Ferettis too."
She's right and we both know it. Sometimes the only way forward is through the fire.
"If we do this," I say carefully, "we do it my way. With every precaution."
I hold her gaze for a long moment, watching the determination in her eyes. This woman has already risked everything—her family, her safety, her future—to expose the truth. Now she's willing to risk even more.
"Okay," she says finally. "Your way. With every precaution."
I nod, my mind already calculating angles, contingencies, extraction plans.
"We need to be smart about this," she says.
"Come here," I say, my voice dropping lower.
She hesitates for just a second before stepping toward me. When she's close enough I reach out, wrapping my hand around the back of her neck and pulling her to me. Her breath catches as I claim her mouth with mine, kissing her deeply.
When I finally break the kiss I keep my hand on her neck, my thumb stroking the delicate skin beneath her jaw. Her pulse hammers against my fingertips.
"Your ass may rule my dick," I murmur against her lips, "but your mind rules my entire fucking being."
A smile spreads across her face, still pressed against mine. I feel it more than see it—the way her cheeks lift, her lips curve.
"Thank you," I say quietly, the words rough in my throat.
She knows what I'm thanking her for without me having to say it. For saving my life at that gas station. For pulling the trigger when most people would have frozen. For being strong enough to carry the weight of what she did.
Her eyes meet mine, understanding passing between us without words. Neither of us says it out loud. We don't need to.
Some debts can't be repaid with words.
I pull back from Melania, my hand still resting on the side of her neck.
"I need to inform Damiano about this," I say, my thumb stroking the delicate line of her jaw. "If we're going to reach out to Leonardo, he needs to know."
She nods, understanding the chain of command. "Of course."
I release her and step back, pulling my phone from a pocket. Damiano answers on the second ring.
"We have a development," I say without preamble, switching to Italian.
"Tell me."
I explain Melania's theory about Antonio's safe and the possibility of finding evidence there rather than continuing to fight Raymond's impossible security systems.
"We need to reach Leonardo," I conclude. "It's our best shot at getting inside the Lombardi estate without starting a war."
There's silence on the other end as Damiano considers. I can almost see him pacing his office.
"You trust her on this?" he finally asks.
I glance at Melania, who's watching me intently.
"Yes," I answer without hesitation. "I do."
Another pause. "The brother could be compromised."
"It's a risk," I acknowledge. "But we're running out of options. Raymond's security is government-grade. We need to pivot."
"Agreed," Damiano says after a moment. "I'm sending Matteo and Noah to pick you up. Bring her to the estate. We'll plan this properly."
I nod, though he can't see it. "Understood. When?"
"Two hours, maybe less."
"We'll be ready."
I end the call and turn back to Melania.
"Damiano is sending Matteo and Noah to bring us to the Feretti estate," I tell her. "We'll plan the approach to Leonardo there."
Her eyes lift slightly. "The estate? I thought?—"
"If we're bringing your brother into this, Damiano wants to be directly involved," I explain. "And frankly, the estate is the most secure location we have. If Raymond's people find us again we'll have more firepower.
We have an advantage. No one can know that the Ferettis are helping you. We need to use that."
She nods, twisting her mother's ring. "When do we leave?"
"Two hours. Maybe less." I step closer, pulling her to me. "Are you sure about this, Melania? About Leonardo?"
Her eyes meet mine, steady and clear. "No. But I'm sure we need to try."
My mind is muddled about Leonardo—wondering if my brother will help us or if I'm making a fatal mistake trusting him.
The sound of car doors slamming outside pulls me from my thoughts.
"It's Matteo and Enzo," he says, his voice tight. "Stay here."
I hear muffled voices in the entryway, then footsteps approaching the kitchen. Alessio returns with two men—Matteo, whom I recognize from our previous brief encounter, and another man I've only glimpsed once before.
The second man—Enzo—walks into the kitchen with the confident stride of someone who owns every room he enters. His sharp hazel eyes scan the space before landing on me, his expression unreadable.
"Are you ready?" Enzo asks, directing the question to Alessio.
That's when it hits me. This is the man who pressed that chemical-soaked cloth against my face when I tried to fight back. The memory of struggling against his grip while darkness claimed me flashes through my mind.
"It wasn't really nice of you," I say, meeting his gaze directly, "to drug me unconscious when we first met."
Enzo turns to me, his eyebrows lifting slightly as he studies me like I'm some puzzling artifact he's discovered. His lips curve into something that's not quite a smile.
"If you think it would've been kinder for me to kick you, as you tried to do to me," he says, his voice smooth and dangerous, "we can always repeat the experience. Your choice, Lombardi."
"Enough," Alessio says, his voice low but sharp enough to cut glass. He steps slightly forward, positioning himself between Enzo and me. "We don't have time for this."
Enzo's eyes flick from me to Alessio, then back again. Something shifts in his expression—a subtle change that speaks volumes. His gaze moves deliberately from Alessio's protective stance to my face, then down to where Alessio's fingertips touch me.
Understanding dawns in his eyes, followed by what looks suspiciously like amusement.
"Interesting," he murmurs, just loud enough for us both to hear.
Alessio's jaw tightens. "The car's ready?"
"Waiting outside," Enzo replies, still watching us with that knowing look.
My gaze follows Alessio as he grabs a small black duffel bag from the counter, carefully placing the USB drive and a new laptop inside—one we haven't used yet.
"Let's go," he says, his hand finding the small of my back as he guides me toward the door.
Outside, a sleek Maserati Levante waits for us—glossy black exterior gleaming in the daylight. The vehicle screams wealth and power without trying. Enzo slides into the driver's seat while Matteo takes the passenger side. Alessio opens the rear door for me before joining me in the back.
The buttery leather seats cradle my body as I settle in. The car smells of expensive cologne and new leather—a stark contrast to the warehouse's musty air or even the clinical cleanliness of the safehouse.
As we pull away from the property I push thoughts of last night to the back of my mind.
Not now. It will take more time to work that through.
I focus on what lies ahead. We need more—we need whatever's in that safe at my father's office.
And for that we need Leonardo.
My brother. The person I once trusted most in this world.
I watch the scenery blur past the tinted windows, sorry to leave that ocean before it cleansed my psyche. The weight of everything—the files, my father's betrayal, Leonardo, the man I killed—settles heavy on my shoulders.
My eyelids suddenly feel like they're made of lead.
"You okay?" Alessio asks quietly, his voice reaching me through a fog.
I nod, not trusting my voice. The car's smooth motion rocks me slightly. I shift in my seat, trying to find a more comfortable position. My head drifts toward Alessio's shoulder before I catch myself.
"It's fine," he says, his voice low enough that only I can hear. "Rest."
Exhaustion rolls over me like a tidal wave.
Despite sleeping through the night with Alessio's arms around me, my body craves more.
The adrenaline crash from yesterday's violence, the emotional toll of everything we've discovered, the intensity of what happened between us—it's all catching up to me at once.
I lay my head on Alessio's shoulder. His body tenses for a fraction of a second before relaxing, his arm shifting slightly to accommodate me. The scent of him—sandalwood and something uniquely him—surrounds me.
My mother used to say that the body knows what it needs even when the mind refuses to listen. Right now, mine is demanding rest.
The rhythmic motion of the car becomes hypnotic. The soft hum of the impeccable machine forms a soothing white noise. My thoughts begin to drift, disconnected and hazy.
I fight it for a moment, forcing my eyes open to see Enzo staring at us in the rearview mirror, his expression unreadable. Matteo says something I can't quite catch, his voice a distant murmur.
My eyelids grow heavier with each blink until they refuse to open again.
The last thing I register is Alessio's hand gently covering mine where it rests between us, his thumb drawing small circles on my skin.
Then I'm gone, pulled under, the gliding motion lulling me into dreamless sleep.