6. Isabella
6
Isabella
T he morning light pours through the thin curtains, softening the edges of the living room, and when I open my eyes, I find Alessio already awake, standing by the window, his back to me, the hard lines of his frame sharp against the muted dawn.
He’s dressed in all black: the coat, the slacks, the boots, the whole intimidating ensemble from yesterday. He doesn’t make a sound as he watches the outside world.
I can’t help but think he looks like he’s carved from the same shadows he stands in, a man of stone molded by the dark edges of the world he comes from.
He turns to me, his gaze level, but not unkind. “Get ready,” he says, voice a low rumble that matches the calm menace of his appearance. “We need to head out. It’s time to pay those jewelers a visit.”
I nod, still a little groggy, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep and the strange weight of his presence.
There’s something almost surreal about this whole situation. Here I am, waking up in my home after having a bona fide mafia enforcer—one of the scariest men I’ve ever met—spend the night on my couch.
But that’s not even the strangest part. The strangest part is that I feel… safe.
Ridiculous, really, considering he could end me with one look if he decided I’d crossed a line.
But there’s something about him, some glimmer of decency buried deep beneath that gruff exterior.
I take a quick shower, the hot water rushing over my skin, steam curling around me in a way that feels almost cleansing. And as I lather up, my mind drifts to Alessio…, inconveniently.
He’s intimidating, yes, but damn if he isn’t also attractive.
I noticed when I first saw him walk into my shop, but now, being this close, I can see just how… striking he is.
That chiseled jawline, those intense eyes that seem to see straight through me, the way he holds himself, rigid yet controlled.
There’s a quiet confidence in him, a resolve that goes beyond just being “scary.” It’s something more primal, something that pulls at me, whether or not I want to admit it.
I feel myself blush as I think of him, and I shake my head, trying to shove those thoughts aside. This isn’t the time. There’s a whole mess with the ring to figure out, a looming threat hanging over me like an axe.
Whoever replaced that ring would’ve been fine with me taking the blame. It’s not just my life on the line; it’s my reputation, my integrity. And whoever set me up like this, they’re okay with throwing me to the wolves.
So no, I can’t let myself get distracted by a pair of broad shoulders and a deadly physique. I need to stay sharp, stay focused. For my sake, if nothing else.
After dressing quickly, I head back out, and Alessio’s already waiting by the door, that impenetrable look on his face again. We don’t waste words; he just gestures for me to follow, and soon we’re in his car, cutting through the quiet morning streets.
He explains our visit to the Bellini Lodge is to collect some of his belongings since he will be staying with me until this mystery is solved.
The drive is short, a welcome reprieve from the tension that’s been hovering in the air since yesterday. We park outside the Lodge, and he steps out, motioning for me to follow him up to his room.
“Can’t let you out of my sight,” he mutters, more to himself than to me.
Inside, his room is… surprisingly neat. Immaculate, even. The bed is made, everything is in its place, not a single thing out of order.
I don’t know why, but I expected something more chaotic, something rougher around the edges, something more like the man himself. But this? This is almost military in its precision.
He gathers his things, his movements efficient and calculated. As soon as he is done, we head out of the room and head towards the exit of the building.
And just as we’re about to leave, the door swings open, and I’m met with the sharp smell of leather and cigarette smoke.
A woman strides into the room with an air of confidence that borders on arrogance. She’s got dark shades perched on her nose, a cigarette dangling between her fingers, and a leather jacket that hugs her in all the right places.
It takes a second, but I recognize her; Fiamma Luciana, Massimo’s first cousin, and one of the Luciana family’s most notorious figures.
I’ve seen so many news articles, heard the whispers about her; they say she’s as fierce as any of the men, with loyalty as thick as blood.
Behind her stands a man, silent and watchful. I quickly deduce that his name is Luca, Alessio, calling the name out as they greet. From the way he stands close to Fiamma, it’s clear he is her bodyguard. He’s tall, solid, with a stoic expression that gives nothing away.
Fiamma’s gaze flicks to me, her eyebrows lifting over the rim of her sunglasses, and then she breaks into a grin. “So this is the Marino girl, huh?” she says, giving me a once over. “Not bad. Love the hair.”
Her compliment catches me off guard, and I feel a blush creeping up my neck. “Thanks,” I mumble, managing a shy smile.
Fiamma chuckles, flicking ash from her cigarette. “I like you,” she declares, as if that’s the end, as if she’s already decided. “Takes guts to get mixed up in our world.”
Luca leans in to speak quietly to Alessio, his words too low for me to catch, but there’s a slight nod from Alessio, a shift in his stance. Whatever they’re talking about, it’s private, and I know better than to ask.
Soon, it’s time for us to leave.
Fiamma gives me one last approving look, and with a wave of her hand, she and Luca disappear as quickly as they came.
I watch them go, a strange feeling twisting in my chest. Fiamma’s got that boldness I wish I could muster, a confidence that doesn’t care what anyone thinks.
I can’t help but envy it, even if I’d never admit it out loud. For a moment, I imagine what it would feel like to have that kind of strength, that kind of certainty.
But there’s no time to dwell on it. We’ve got work to do. We climb into the car and get going.
The first jeweler’s shop is a way out of town, a small, unassuming place run by a man named Tomasso. The drive is quiet, the silence heavy, punctuated only by the sound of the tires on the road.
Alessio’s focus is absolute, his gaze never straying from the road. I don’t fill the silence; I know by now that he’s a man of few words, and anything I’d say would just feel… intrusive.
When we pull up to Tomasso’s shop, he’s standing outside, a big, bald man with a beard that looks like it could rival a grizzly bear’s.
His eyes are sharp, unimpressed, and he doesn’t so much as flinch when he sees Alessio step out of the car. I feel Tomasso’s not intimidated, a quality that’s rare and refreshing.
We head inside, and Alessio pulls out the ring, holding it up for Tomasso to see.
The jeweler eyes it with casual interest, then lets out a laugh…a deep, rumbling sound that fills the room.
“This?” he says, smirking. “Replacing a perching phoenix with a chicken scratching the ground? That’s a level of disrespect that is beyond hilarious.”
Alessio bristles beside me and I put a hand on his arm to calm him down. Tomasso looks between Alessio and me with a raised eyebrow, amused by the whole situation.
“Hey, it’s funny, but it wasn’t me,” he adds, crossing his arms. “It’s a pretty good dupe, but I wouldn’t disgrace my tools with such shoddy work. I only make originals. Why’re you asking me, anyway?”
I shrug. “You’re one of the few people I know who can work this good.”
Tomasso smiles. “Well, that’s a compliment if I ever heard one. Too bad I can’t help you though, sorry.”
I glance at Alessio, unsure of how he’ll react to Tomasso’s bluntness, but he just narrows his eyes, studying the man.
They both stare at each other, some battle of wills going down without a word spoken.
Alessio holds his gaze a moment longer, then nods, satisfied.
We turn to leave, and as we step back into the chilly air, I let out a small sigh of relief. One down, two to go.
Micah, the next jeweler, is a family man, his shop cozy and filled with laughter as his young children play around his feet. His wife, pregnant, gives me a warm smile as she bustles around the store.
The jeweler himself, a friend from my past, takes one look at the ring and shakes his head, his expression serious.
“I’d never make a fake like that, Isabella,” he whispers, looking me straight in the eye. “And I wouldn’t risk your life for any amount. Your grandpa was such a kind man to me.”
His words hit me harder than I expect, a lump forming in my throat. I thank him, trying to keep my composure, and we head back to the car.
It’s already getting dark, snow beginning to fall, soft flakes swirling in the streetlights.
“We’ll need to stay somewhere for the night,” Alessio says, glancing at the road ahead. “The next jeweler’s too far to reach before morning.”
We find a small, dimly lit motel, the only place with rooms available. The clerk hands us a single key, explaining that the only room left is a single with one bed.
I try not to think about it too hard as we head upstairs, but my heart is pounding, and I feel a blush creeping up my cheeks.
The room is uncluttered and modest, though tidy. Alessio shrugs off his coat, and I try not to stare as he unbuttons his shirt, revealing the hard lines of his chest and shoulders.
My mouth goes dry, and I quickly duck into the bathroom to take a shower, needing a moment to collect myself. The warm shower helps to ground my thoughts.
I step out of the bathroom, wrapped in nothing but a towel, and my stomach drops. Dio mio. I didn’t pack any clothes.
For a second, I just stand there by the door, trying to steady myself, my mind racing. Alessio packed some clothes though, and I could ask to borrow something of his just for tonight.
Taking a breath, I step out into the room; the floorboards cool against my bare feet. And there he is…half undressed, with a towel slung over his shoulder, his shirt off, and only his trousers still on, like he’s about to take his turn in the shower. The sight of him…lean, powerful…snags my breath, and I can tell he notices.
Then the unthinkable happens. My foot slips, and the towel slips from my grip, falling to the floor.
I stand there, bare, my pulse loud in my ears. Alessio’s eyes widen, and in that moment, there’s something in his eyes…something deep, almost primal, like he’d tear the world apart for me if he wanted to.
But then he looks away quickly, his voice low, tense. “Clothes are in the bag. Get dressed.”
Heat rushes to my face, embarrassment clawing at me, but part of me can’t shake the thrill, the feeling that lingered in his eyes, if only for that brief, electric instant. He heads to the bathroom, and I find a t-shirt and sweatpants in his bag, slipping them on.
Time passes, and soon we’re both lying in the small single bed, each of us on our side, pretending to be comfortable. But neither of us is asleep; the silence between us feels almost tangible. I’m still gathering my courage to speak when he breaks it first.
“For what it’s worth,” he murmurs. “I don’t think you had anything to do with the missing ring. I believe you.”
Warmth blooms in me, unexpected and overwhelming. “Thank you,” I reply softly.
There’s a pause, but his words make me feel bold, just enough to ask, “Are you always this... quiet?”
He hesitates, then says, “Sometimes. I can be different around different people.”
I pause, then, unable to help myself, ask, “You and Luca…you seem close. Is he someone you’re a little less quiet with?”
A smile ghosts over his face, and he lets out a low chuckle. “Luca is family. They all are. We’ve known each other since we were kids.”
Another silence falls, but now the questions are tumbling out of me. “I don’t mean to pry, but... how did you get involved in this life? I know you’re not a Luciana by blood.”
He’s quiet, and I think maybe I’ve crossed a line. But then he speaks, his voice distant, tinged with something rough.
“They’re my family. I didn’t have one…was just an orphaned kid always getting into trouble. But they took me in. Gave me family, gave me purpose. I may not be a Luciana by blood, but in every other way that matters, I am. I owe a debt to this family, and that’s why I’m here.”
There’s a weight in his voice, a raw sincerity that softens something in me. He’s still the same hard-edged Alessio, but this side of him…loyal, vulnerable…is something new. And, for the first time, I feel like I’m seeing the real man beneath.
“Now,” he says, his voice low and final, “we should get some sleep. Long day tomorrow.”
I drift off a while later, but sleep comes slowly. His presence beside me stirs something restless, something I don’t quite understand yet but can’t ignore.