7. Alessio
7
Alessio
M orning breaks quietly through the thin curtains of our hotel room, soft light painting faint golden stripes across the floor and climbing over the rumpled bed where she sleeps. Isabella lies curled beneath the sheets, her hair cascading like black ink across the pillow.
Her face, softened in sleep, is calm in a way I’ve rarely seen on anyone before… it’s so peaceful. Her lashes brush her cheekbones, dark against her fair skin, and her lips are slightly parted as she breathes softly, lost somewhere in her dreams.
There’s a part of me that wants to keep watching her, just to drink in this stillness. It’s strange…she has this way of pulling me in, making me forget, if only for a second, the world that waits outside. The world I come from.
I catch myself, though, snapping back to reality, feeling that pull of attraction I haven’t felt in… hell, I don’t know how long.
Not like this. Not something that simmers, slow and dangerous.
I’ve been awake for a while, too damn aware of her lying just a few inches away. The bed is small, closer than I’d have liked.
And it got to a point where I had to move, had to put some distance between us. The feel of her close, the soft heat of her body in that tiny bed…it was too much, too real.
So I ended up sleeping on the floor, though I’m not sure I’d call what I did “sleeping.”
My thoughts kept circling back to her, to the glimpse of her bare skin when that towel slipped.
She looked at me then with equal parts horror and something else, something unspoken but loud enough to rattle my composure.
I wrestle that memory down, force myself to think of the mission, the ring that’s gotten us tangled in this mess in the first place.
But before I can shove my thoughts back into line, she stirs, her lashes fluttering as she shifts and stretches like a cat, blinking at the morning light with a sleepy, almost dazed expression.
And there’s something achingly beautiful about the way she looks at me, like she’s forgotten who I am and what I represent.
Like I’m just a man, not a Luciana gangster. I stand, clearing my throat, a barrier against whatever softness has seeped into my voice.
“Get ready,” I say, pulling on the cold edge that usually comes so naturally. “We’ve got a long day.”
She nods, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, and slips off to the bathroom. I catch her glancing back at me before she closes the door, and I don’t miss the hint of color rising in her cheeks.
I look away, shoving my hands into my pockets, willing myself to stay focused, to keep my head in the game.
When she’s dressed, we head out, the hotel room’s warmth giving way to the chill of the snowy morning. The drive to the third jeweler’s shop is quiet, both of us wrapped in our own thoughts.
I can feel the tension winding through her, see it in the way her fingers fidget with the hem of her coat. I say nothing, keeping my eyes on the road, but I’m more aware of her than I would like to admit.
The third jeweler’s shop is a modest place tucked between a bakery and a bookstore, the kind of establishment you’d miss if you weren’t looking for it.
We park, but as we approach, I notice that the shop’s lights are off, the door firmly locked. There’s no sign of the owner, no hint of movement inside.
It’s strange. The bookstore and bakery are both open, yet the jewelry shop sits behind its shuttered door, its absence a quiet oddity on the block.
"We should check with the other stores," Isabella suggests, her voice low. "Maybe they know why Bruce isn’t open."
We head for the bakery first. The warm scent of pastries fills the air, nearly tugging at my appetite. I approach the counter, and the shopkeeper greets me with a friendly smile.
"Hey…" I start, glancing over my shoulder at the closed jewelry store. "I was wondering if you knew anything about the jeweler next door. He’s not open today… Any idea why?"
The smile drops from the shopkeeper’s face in an instant. A flicker of fear crosses his expression, unmistakable.
He shakes his head. "No… I haven’t seen him. Not today, at least," he mutters.
I glance at Isabella, and from the look she gives me, it’s clear she caught that hint of dread as well.
"Let’s try the bookstore," she whispers.
Inside the bookstore, we’re met with another smile, this one bright and cheerful. This time, Isabella steps forward to ask the questions.
"Hi. I was hoping you could help me," she says, her voice polite but firm. "I was looking to speak with the jeweler next door? Bruce. His shop’s closed. Do you know how I might get in touch with him?"
The shopkeeper stiffens, his gaze darting to me before lingering there, as if sizing me up. He swallows hard.
"No… I don’t know how to reach him," he says, his voice barely a whisper. "Please… I don’t want any trouble."
Outside again, we stand by the locked door of the jewelry store, a creeping unease settling over us.
I glance at Isabella, catching the flicker of uncertainty in her gaze. “Stay in the car,” I say, my voice firm. “I’ll check it out.”
She hesitates, clearly wanting to argue, but she nods, folding her arms across her chest as I step away.
I don’t like leaving her, but there’s a part of me that knows she’ll be safer if she stays out of this.
And if there’s one thing I know, it’s that this isn’t adding up. Shops like these don’t just stay locked up without reason.
I head around to the back, slipping into the narrow alley where a small door stands slightly ajar. A chill skitters down my spine as I push it open, my eyes adjusting to the dim light filtering through the back windows.
Inside, the place looks hastily abandoned…papers scattered on the counter, half open drawers, and even some Christmas decorations left unfinished, as if someone got interrupted midway. Whoever left seems to have done so in a hurry.
I move deeper into the shop, the silence heavy, pressing down on me. In the office, I see the security monitor; the screen glowing faintly with a mess of scrambled files.
I try to play the recording, but it’s useless. The files are corrupted, eaten away by what looks like some kind of virus. It’s sloppy work, but there’s a chance Nico could piece it together. I copy the files onto one of the flash drives I find on the desk, slipping it into my pocket.
I switch to the live feed, more out of habit than expectation, and that’s when I see it…a shadow moving in the shop. My stomach twists as the camera shifts, revealing a masked figure slipping through the back door. And then I see her.
Isabella.
She’s standing by the door, curiosity etched into her features as she looks around, oblivious to the danger that’s stalking her. Fuck.
I feel a surge of rage boiling up inside me as I watch the man close in on her. I bolt from the office, my heart hammering. I burst into the room just as the man grabs her, his arm wrapping around her neck, dragging her backwards. Her eyes widen in terror, hands clawing at his arm as she struggles, gasping for breath.
He’s choking her, his grip like a vise, and I can see the fear etched into every line of her face, her body trembling as she fights against him.
“Isabella!” I shout, drawing my gun, my vision narrowing to a sharp point as I take aim. The masked man’s head jerks up, and he releases her just as I arrive. He bolts, slipping through the door with a practiced speed that screams training, and I know better not to follow.
I drop to my knees beside her as she collapses, gasping for air, her hands clutching her throat in a desperate attempt to steady herself. Her wide eyes are glazed with shock, and she’s trembling, her entire body shaking uncontrollably.
“Damn it,” I growl, my voice rough with a fury I don’t bother to hide. “I told you to stay in the damn car!”
She flinches at my words, and I feel a stab of regret, but I shove it down, knowing I need to be firm. “Do you understand what you just did?” I snap, the anger in my voice cutting through the silence. “This isn’t some game. You can’t just go snooping around in mafia business and expect to walk out unscathed.”
Her face pales, tears welling up in her eyes as she nods, a shaky, terrified nod that twists something deep in my chest. She’s scared…terrified.
I take a breath, forcing myself to calm down. “Come on,” I say, my voice softer now, reaching out to help her up. “Let’s get you out of here.”
She’s silent on the drive back, her gaze fixed on the window, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. I can see the tension in her shoulders, the lingering fear that still clings to her like a shadow.
I want to reach out, to tell her it’s over, that she’s safe, but I don’t have the words. I’ve never really been good with words.
When we get to her place, I tell her to go inside and wait while I make a call. I step outside, pulling out my phone, and dial Massimo. The line clicks, his familiar voice answering with a hint of impatience.
“The situation’s complicated,” I say, my voice low. “The third jeweler skipped town. But I found something…. security files. They’re scrambled, but Nico might be able to restore them.”
Massimo’s silence is heavy. “And Isabella?” he asks finally.
“They attacked her,” I say, the anger simmering again. “Some guy in a mask, someone who knew what he was doing. But he slipped up. I’ll make sure Nico gets the files tomorrow. And we need to find that jeweler…he’s the link.”
Massimo’s voice is clipped. “Good. Keep her safe. This mess ends soon.”
He hangs up, and I stand staring at the quiet street for a moment, letting the cold air bite into my skin.
When I go back inside, I find Isabella sitting on the couch, her arms wrapped around herself, her shoulders hunched as if she’s trying to disappear. Her eyes are red, and there’s a haunted look in them that makes something inside me ache.
She looks up as I approach, and I see the tears welling in her eyes, threatening to spill over. “I didn’t mean… I didn’t think…” Her voice breaks, and she wipes at her cheeks, frustrated, trying to hold herself together.
“Hey,” I say, sitting beside her, my voice softening despite myself. “Look, it’s over. You’re safe now. I shouldn’t have yelled.”
She shakes her head, her voice barely a whisper. “I just… I never thought I’d be in something like this. I just wanted to live my life, to be normal. And now I’m a target, caught in something I don’t understand. I’m terrified, Alessio. I just want to go back to my shop, to the way things were…”
Her words cut through me, and for a moment, I’m at a loss. I reach out, taking her hand in mine, feeling the warmth of her skin against mine. “I’m sorry,” I say quietly, my thumb brushing over her knuckles. “You shouldn’t be on the path of Luciana enemies. None of this is fair to you.”
She looks at me, her gaze filled with a pain that makes my chest tighten.
And then, before I know what’s happening, we’re leaning closer, the distance between us shrinking, until her lips are a breath away from mine. I can feel her hesitation, the way her breath hitches, and I know this is a line I shouldn’t cross.
But at this moment, it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except the feel of her lips against mine, soft and warm, melting away every wall I’ve built, every rule I’ve lived by.
The kiss is slow, tentative, a quiet surrender that deepens, pulling us both under. And for the first time, I allow myself to forget, to give in to the warmth of her touch, the feel of her heartbeat echoing against mine.
For this brief, stolen moment, the world fades away, leaving only us locked in a fragile, breathless silence..