9. Alexander
Chapter 9
Alexander
A s soon as I step inside my bedroom, I slam the door shut, locking it behind me and running a hand through my hair in frustration.
What in the hell have I gotten myself into?
I’m unsure what I expected, but it certainly wasn’t this. Logically, I threatened to kill her father—which I never would’ve done, just quietly—and forced her from her home at gunpoint, so I can’t exactly expect her to be jumping for joy. She will, however, have a better life living here with me. She’ll want for nothing.
I tilt my head towards the ceiling and groan. Have I lost my damn mind? I’m acting like this is a permanent arrangement … which it’s not.
She can return to her father once this, whatever the hell it is, runs its course. I’m sure we’ll tire of each other soon enough, that is, if we don’t kill each other in the interim.
Speaking of killing, I pull out the gun I shoved down the back of my trousers, dropping it to the floor and kicking it under the bed so I no longer have to look at it. It was never loaded, but they weren’t to know that.
I swore many years ago that I would never pick up another weapon, so the fact that I was willing to do that today says a lot.
My men may be armed at all times, but that’s something I’m not interested in.
I slide out of my suit jacket and toss it on the bed as perspiration begins to dot my forehead. Next, I reach for my tie, viciously tugging on it as I struggle to get air into my lungs.
Images of the day I became a made man—at the tender age of fourteen—begin to flash through my mind as bile rises to the back of my throat.
All these years later, it still haunts me. It was the moment—much to my father’s dismay and deep disappointment—that I knew I was not cut out for his world.
I’ve done some pretty shitty things in my thirty-four years on this earth, things I’m not proud of, but ending someone’s life for personal gain, or to defend you or your family’s honour, is where I draw the line. It’s barbaric. My father may think he is God, but he’s not. He’ll have to atone for his sins one day.
For him, I’m sure it’s easy to sit back and give the order to end someone’s life, but carrying out that killing—for me, at least—was not the case. It destroyed a part of me … a piece I know I’ll never get back.
Staring into a man’s eyes—no matter how evil the deeds he committed—and watching him beg for his life, knowing you are about to end it, despite his pleas for salvation, has the potential to be soul-destroying.
The fact that my father didn’t hesitate to place such a heavy burden on his young son’s shoulders shows precisely the type of man he is. My mother would’ve turned over in her grave if she’d known the fate that awaited her two precious boys after she passed. Not that my brother seems to be affected by the lifestyle as much as I am .
As I stalk towards the bathroom, my fingers clumsily try to pry open the top button on my dress shirt. I quickly lose my patience as the walls seem to close in further.
Grasping the lapel and tearing it open, I hear the first few buttons ting against the adjoining wall as they go flying across the room. It reminds me of the other night when Chloe and I first met. But even images of her can’t seem to calm that inferno that is currently bubbling up inside me.
I reach the sink and turn the tap on full blast, bending over to splash cold water on my face. It may be enough to cool my heated skin, but it does nothing to quell those dreadful images in my mind.
It’s been years since I was affected like this by the memories of that incident, but I gather today’s events triggered it.
“Fuck,” I mumble under my breath as I rest my clenched fists on the marble countertop and bow my head. My chest tightens as I struggle to fill my lungs with the air I so desperately need.
Is this my karma for what I’ve done?
Seeing Chloe weep as she clung to her father as they said their goodbyes made me doubt everything I was doing, but after talking to Theodore Carmichael at length before she arrived home, I knew in my heart I was doing the right thing—for her, for him, for all of them.
Hopefully, one day, she’ll see that too.
I cleared my entire day once I got confirmation from Antonio yesterday that the car, indeed, belonged to Chloe.
When I first learnt her surname, a sense of unease settled in the pit of my stomach. What were the odds that she could be from the same Carmichael family that is deeply connected to my own?
Chloe Angelina Carmichael.
She even bears part of her mother’s name.
As soon as I discovered that it was true, I was torn about what to do. Common sense told me to steer clear, that nothing good could come of this, but I’d already made up my mind by then … I wanted her. So, I decided to hell with the consequences.
Last night, I sent a car with two of my men to the address I had on file for her to stake it out. She’d already confessed to working several jobs, so I knew it was only a matter of time before she left the house. My men were under strict instructions to keep me updated on any movement.
I got the first call at 2 am, informing me that Chloe had just climbed out of a side window and was walking down the street in the dead of night, alone , carrying a mop, broom, and cleaning bucket.
It took every ounce of power I had not to get in my car and drive over there myself, but I couldn’t do that. I had yet to formulate an actual plan, so I knew I would have to bide my time.
Instead, I got them to follow her—at a safe distance. I paced back and forth in my room for the rest of the morning as the updates slowly filtered in.
When she finally headed to her second job—sans her mop and broom—Antonio and I headed to her house to look around. I was unaware if she lived alone because there wasn’t enough time to do a thorough background check.
I will say that when I first saw the dilapidated dump she called home, I almost had a fucking coronary.
It was unfit to live in and a fire hazard at best. The front door was permanently nailed closed, and the back door could only be opened with force. No wonder she’d resorted to entering and exiting her home through a window.
I hadn’t anticipated finding her father at the house when we arrived, and although it had been years since I’d last seen him, he recognised me immediately. Let’s say the Mancini genes are strong. While my character is much like my mother’s, God rest her soul, I definitely get my looks from my old man.
Theodore—or Theo, as my family once called him—was less than pleased to find me lurking around his yard. He thought I was back to collect on his debt, but in my eyes, he’d already paid the ultimate price.
I’m jolted from my thoughts by more banging. It’s been happening intermittently for the past hour or so.
“Let me out of here, you bastard! You can’t keep me locked up like some caged animal!”
I swipe my hand across my mouth to stifle my laugh. I shouldn’t find her antics amusing, but I can’t help it. She’s a little spitfire. I like her fighting spirit and refusal to back down, even when the odds are stacked against her. It’s something I can respect … maybe even admire.
I purposely put her in the room beside mine because I wanted her close. Why? I can’t say, but moving her to the other side of the house wasn’t an option. I’m now second-guessing that decision, especially if this is what I can expect over the coming days.
I’m currently lying on my bed in my boxer briefs, staring at the ceiling. Like her, I haven’t left my room since we arrived home a few hours ago. I stripped out of my suit and showered, but decided to lay low for a while. The flashbacks have left me feeling off-kilter.
When there’s a soft knock on my door, I sit up. “Who is it?”
“It’s me, Mr Mancini, Carmella. ”
I let out an exasperated sigh as I push myself off the bed and stand. Walking into my closet, I snag a fresh pair of trousers from the hanger and slip them on.
When I open the door to my room, my housekeeper stands there nervously, knotting her fingers in her apron. She’s used to looking after me and my men, but this is the first time I’ve had a woman at the house.
“She seems upset … possibly she’s hangry. Would it be okay if I fed her?”
“Hangry?” I ask, furrowing my brow.
“So hungry it’s making her angry,” she replies. “I’ve experienced something similar before.”
I chuckle at that. Chloe probably is hungry, but I’m pretty sure her anger has nothing to do with her lack of food.
“What time will dinner be ready?”
“I’ve been keeping it warm in the oven while I waited for you to come down.”
“Give us twenty minutes, and we’ll be down to eat.”
“Okay, Mr Mancini.”
I wait until Carmella has descended the stairs before approaching Chloe’s room. I’m unsure what I’ll face when I open her door, so it’s best if my housekeeper doesn’t have to witness it.
As I anticipated, the moment I let myself into her room, she leaps off the side of the bed where she was sitting and rushes me.
“You fucking bastard,” she yells, clenching her fists into balls and proceeding to beat them against my chest. I deserve that at the very least, so I give her a minute to release some pent-up frustration.
The shock of this afternoon has obviously now worn off, and the gravity of her situation has settled in.
When I feel like she’s had enough, I grasp her wrists, holding on tight. “Do you feel better now?” I ask, pinning her with a glare.
She thrashes in my hold, trying to free herself, but there’s no use. I have no intention of letting her go. Not now … not ever.
“Let me go, arsehole,” she seethes, her face bright red with anger.
“No. Not until you calm down.”
“Calm down! Calm fucking down!” she yells. “You kidnapped me, you piece of shit, and locked me away in this room for hours.”
“And this is exactly where you’ll stay until you learn how to behave yourself.”
I know I’ve pushed things too far when her angry eyes turn murderous, but I’m still taken aback when she does something completely unexpected. She spits in my face.
I grit my teeth, and my nostrils flare as I inhale a deep breath through my nose, fighting the fury that rages inside me.
In my world, it’s extremely rare for the mob to harm a woman—women and children are off-limits—but if my father witnessed what she just did, he wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet in her head. Respect is paramount within the famiglia .
Without releasing her, I start moving and don’t stop until the back of her legs comes in contact with the bed. I shove her down onto the mattress, quickly covering her body with mine so she can’t escape.
I manoeuvre her arms above her head, pinning them there. “People have died for less than that in my world.”
“Your world! Listen to you. I don’t get what world you think you come from, but you are not above the law. What you have done is illegal. You can’t go around kidnapping people and holding them hostage against their will. ”
“You chose to leave with me.”
“Because you were going to shoot my father if I didn’t.”
“Semantics, Tesoro .”
“I want to go home.”
“This is your home now.”
“No, it’s not,” she murmurs as tears rise to her eyes. I’m quickly realising I don’t like seeing her upset. “My home is with my father. He won’t survive for long without me.”
“I’ll make sure your father is looked after.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I’m a man of my word, Chloe.”
“I have work tomorrow … people that rely on me.”
“You won’t need to work while you’re living here. I’ll take care of you.”
“I can take care of myself,” she says, her voice cracking as she speaks. “I’ve been doing it for years.”
“I know you can … and have, but I want to take care of you now.”
“Why?” That is the million-dollar question and one I can’t even answer.
“Because I do. So here is what is going to happen. I’m going to get off you so you can clean up and change, and then we are going to go downstairs and eat the meal that Carmella has prepared for us.”
“Change into what? You didn’t let me pack any clothes, remember.”
“I bought you an entire new wardrobe. You deserve all the pretty things, bella .”
“You did?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“This morning.”
She stares up at me and frowns as the realisation sinks in. “So, this was your plan all along? You were never going to end my father’s life. This was all a ruse to get me here. Does he even owe you money?”
“Yes, he does. He owes my family a lot of money.”
She blows out a puff of air, turning her face to the side. “He has no way of paying off his debts. He gets a disability pension every fortnight, but it isn’t much. It’s usually left up to me to bail him out of trouble.”
“I know,” I say, freeing one of my hands to turn her face back to me. “You take care of everything, but who takes care of you?”
“Nobody.”
“Let me be that person, Angelo ,” I whisper.
Our eyes remain locked as the air around us crackles, and I ache to kiss those plump fucking lips of hers, but I know she wouldn’t want that. Rest assured, one day, she will. I’ll make sure of it.