Chapter 26
A n hour later I lie sprawled across Alessio's bed, my body sore and marked from our second round. My hair is still damp from the shower and I'm wrapped in nothing but a towel when Alessio returns to the room carrying a stack of clothes.
"These should fit, at least that's what Ginerva said" he says, placing them on the bed. "We'll shop online tonight for your own things."
I finger the fabrics—soft cashmere, silk and a dark designer denim. "I don't really care about clothes right now." After everything that's happened, fashion seems trivial.
Alessio's jaw tightens. "I do."
Something in his tone makes me look up. His eyes burn with intensity as they sweep over my towel-covered form. This isn't just about clothes—it's about providing for me.
"Thank you," I say softly. The simple words feel inadequate for everything swirling between us. I sit up, keeping the towel clutched to my chest. "This dinner... it isn't just about eating, is it?"
Alessio runs his thumb along his bottom lip, considering his next words. "Damiano always wants to meet his guests. In this house eating together is something of an old habit."
"Who's going to be there?" I ask, anxiety building in my chest. Meeting the head of the Feretti family is nothing to take lightly.
"Besides Enzo, Noah, Daniel, Matteo and Damiano, no one else."
I notice the absence immediately. "What about women? His wife? Family?"
Alessio's expression darkens. "Damiano sent Zoe, his wife, Sofia, his daughter, and Lucrezia to Italy because of what's going on with your father."
I nod slowly, considering this information. It's strange to think of another mafia family being so protective of its people—especially the women and children. My father never showed such concern. To Antonio Lombardi everyone was expendable, even his own daughter.
"That's... different," I say finally, twisting my mother's ring. "My father would never—" I stop myself, the comparison too painful to complete.
"Your father would never what?" Alessio probes.
I shake my head, looking away. "My father would never prioritize anyone's safety over business. Not even his children's."
Alessio crosses the room in two strides, sitting beside me on the bed. "You don't have to hide it, piccola . Not with me."
"Hide what?" I ask, though I know exactly what he means.
"Your emotions. Your pain." His calloused fingers brush my cheek. "I can see it in your eyes."
"What good would showing it do? Falling apart won't help anything." I sound hard, I know, but I can’t help it. "Crying about my father wanting me dead or about the man I... I killed... it's not productive."
"Not everything has to be productive, Melania."
"Right now, it does." I straighten my spine, summoning the composure I've perfected since childhood. "The only thing to do is stay focused. If I let myself think too much about everything that's happened..."
I don't finish the sentence. I don't need to.
Alessio nods, understanding without me having to explain further. Then he pulls me against his chest, one hand cradling the back of my head while the other wraps around my waist.
"I'm not good with talking," he admits, his voice rumbling through his chest against my ear. "Never have been. But I hate seeing your face full of pain."
The simple honesty in his words cracks something inside me. I don't cry—I've cried enough today—but I melt into him, letting his warmth seep into my bones.
I pull back just enough to look into his eyes. The dark brown depths that once terrified me now feel like the only safe place in my storm-tossed world. His gaze holds mine, unguarded for once, allowing me to see beyond the ruthless enforcer to the man beneath.
Is it possible? The thought forms before I can stop it. Is it possible that I've fallen in love with him?
The realization should terrify me. This man kidnapped me, threatened me, has killed people without remorse. And yet he's also protected me, listened to me, respected my mind in ways no one else ever has.
My heart bounces around my chest as I continue to stare into his eyes, searching for answers to questions I'm not brave enough to ask out loud.
Alessio's hands cup my face, his thumbs stroking my cheekbones. The tenderness in his touch contrasts with the lethal strength I know those hands possess.
"It's time to head down," he says, low and intimate.
My stomach tightens with anxiety. I'm about to meet Damiano Feretti—the man who runs one of the most powerful criminal organizations in the country.
"Okay," I whisper, reaching for the clothes he brought. "Give me five minutes."
Alessio nods and steps back, though his eyes never leave me.
As I dress in a simple black sweater and jeans that fit surprisingly well—I catch Alessio watching me with an intensity that makes my pulse quicken. Not with anxiety but with a deeper, more primal response.
When I'm ready he offers his hand. I take it, feeling the calluses stroke my palm.
"Remember," he says as we reach the door, "these men respect strength and honesty. Don't try to be what you think they want. Just be Melania."
I take a deep breath, squeezing his hand. "Just be the woman who hacked a military-grade security system and managed to run away from her wedding with a man who was actually there to kidnap her?"
This time Alessio does smile—a small, fierce thing that transforms his face. "Exactly that woman. She's fucking magnificent."
The unexpected compliment bolsters my courage. I stand taller, lifting my chin. Whatever waits for me downstairs I won't face it cowering or apologizing for who I am.
"Let's go then." I sound more confident than I feel.
I lead Melania down the wide hallway to the dining room. She walks with her head high but I can feel the tension of her muscles pulsing in my palm.
"You'll be fine," I murmur, keeping my voice low enough that only she can hear. "Just remember what I said."
The double doors to the dining room stand open, revealing the long mahogany table already surrounded by familiar faces.
Enzo sits at the one head of the table, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp as they track our entrance.
Noah leans against the far wall, arms crossed over his chest, while Matteo gestures animatedly about something.
Daniel stands by the door, his stance military-precise. However there’s no sign of our capo .
Melania's steps falter slightly but she recovers quickly. Fucking impressive, considering most people would be shaking in their boots walking into a room full of Feretti enforcers.
"Gentlemen," I say, guiding Melania forward. "This is Melania Lombardi."
Noah pushes off the wall, his dark eyes assessing her with cold calculation. "So this is Antonio's daughter," he says, his voice carrying that slight accent that becomes more pronounced when he's curious about something.
"The one who saved Alessio's ass at the gas station," Matteo adds with a grin. "Pleasure to meet you properly, without all the running and shooting."
I bristle at what he’s pointedly leaving out–that she was bottom-half naked when he met her.
Melania's chin lifts slightly. "The pleasure's mine," she replies, her voice steady.
I gesture toward Daniel, who gives a curt nod. "Daniel handles security for the estate."
"Ma'am," Daniel says simply, his eyes doing a quick sweep of Melania before returning to his vigilant watch of the room.
"Ettore's outdone himself again tonight," Matteo announces, rubbing his hands together. "Osso buco with saffron risotto and I heard him muttering about tiramisu for dessert."
My stomach growls at the mention of Ettore's cooking. After days of gas station snacks and microwave meals, real Italian food sounds like heaven.
"Where's Sienna?" I ask Enzo, noticing the absence of his woman.
Enzo's expression hardens slightly. "With her mother. I'm not bringing her back here until this whole situation is resolved."
I nod, understanding his decision. The fewer people involved, the better, with Antonio and Raymond still hunting for Melania. No need to put Sienna in the crosshairs.
"Smart move," I say, pulling out a chair for Melania next to mine. She sits gracefully, her back straight, looking for all the world like she belongs here.
Noah's dark eyes shift from Enzo to Melania. "That's why Evelyn isn't here either." He leans forward and puts his elbows on the table. "So, Lombardi's daughter. How the fuck did you manage to arrange a runaway without Antonio finding out? Man's got eyes everywhere."
The table goes quiet. I tense, not sure if Melania will answer or tell him to fuck off. She surprises me.
"Actually," she says, calm and level, "I did it without being particularly afraid of him finding out."
Matteo raises an eyebrow. "Antonio Lombardi? The man who tracks his own shadow?"
Melania's lips curve into a small, triumphant smile. "First, I arranged everything just hours before the wedding. There wasn't time for him to notice anything unusual. Second, I used an anonymous chat service that specializes in finding the right person for whatever you’re willing to pay for."
"Dark web?" Noah asks.
"Something like that," Melania acknowledges. "The only time I was truly nervous was making sure no one realized the person who took the chauffeur's place wasn't one of my father's men."
I think about how I found her, dressed in white, slipping into what she thought was her escape vehicle. The fucking irony that I was waiting instead.
I'm about to talk when Ginerva bustles in, her normally serene expression slightly flustered.
"Signor Damiano sends his apologies. He'll be a few minutes late—he's on a longer conversation than he expected with Signora Zoe." She says.
Enzo snorts, leaning back in his chair. "Longer conversation is one way to put it. Lucrezia is fucking furious."
Melania glances at me, then back to Enzo with interest.
"Why?" Matteo asks, reaching for his water glass. "I thought they were enjoying Italy."
"Oh, they were," Enzo says, his expression darkening. "Until Lucrezia figured out it wasn't actually a vacation. Apparently Damiano told them they were going for a break, not because he was shipping them off for safety."
Fuck. "Let me guess—Lucrezia lost her shit when she found out?" I ask.
"Completely," Enzo confirms. "And the best part? Zoe got caught in the middle of it. Lucrezia isn't even mad about being sent away, I mean it’s Italy, right?—she's pissed that Damiano lied about the reason."
Noah shakes his head. "Rookie mistake. Should've just told her the truth."
"You try telling Lucrezia Feretti anything she doesn't want to hear," Enzo challenges. "The woman's got a temper that makes mine look reasonable."
I feel Melania's eyes on me, taking in this glimpse of Feretti family dynamics. I slide my hand under the table and give her knee a reassuring squeeze.
"Lucrezia hates being managed," I explain to her quietly. "Always has, even as a kid."
"I can understand that," Melania says and I catch the flash of recognition in her eyes.
Enzo leans forward. "Damiano's going to be in the doghouse for weeks. You know how Lucrezia gets when she thinks someone's trying to protect her without her consent."
"Like a fucking hurricane," Noah adds.
Daniel shifts his stance by the door. "At least they're safe in Italy. That's what matters."