23. Alexander
Chapter 23
Alexander
I ’m lying here with Chloe wrapped in my arms. We are a panting, sweaty mess after I dished out my punishment to her, for unknowingly teaching my son crude things. She took it like a champ, just like I knew she would.
My phone dings softly on the bedside table, followed by another chime a few seconds later. I don’t stir, making no move to get it. I’m perfectly content right here.
I ended up driving Giovanni back to his mother’s alone, hoping to talk to Sophia about extending his visits beyond the current two days a month. But I wasn’t exactly surprised to find her not there. Mimi told me she had left shortly after Nico picked up Giovanni this morning.
It was the perfect opportunity to ask questions. I needed to know what exactly was going on when my son wasn’t with me. I already had an inkling, but any ammunition I could gather may help me in the future.
As I presumed, I found out she was living her best life while our son spent ninety percent of his time with his live-in nanny.
I offered Mimi a bonus if she kept a detailed diary of Sophia’s daily activities. She was quite willing to help, and even in my absence, she acknowledged that I was the more capable parent of the two.
Mimi knows I have my son’s best interests at heart.
“Aren’t you going to see who that is? It might be important,” Chloe mumbles into my chest. “What if it’s Giovanni’s mother.”
I blow out a long breath as I stretch my arm out to grab my phone. Maybe Mimi told Sophia about what I asked her to do. I highly doubt it, but I’m in no mood for her bullshit, nevertheless. I should’ve turned the fucking thing off.
I glance at the screen, and it’s from Antonio.
Antonio: I know you spent your day with your son, so I’m not sure if you’ve heard, but I just saw this headline on the late-night news. I thought you might be interested.
I click on the link he added, and my heart drops into the pit of my stomach when the news anchor says, “A suspected Mafia boss was gunned down in an execution-style killing late this afternoon as he lunched at a popular Melbourne restaurant. Vincent Mortelli?—”
“Fuck,” I mumble under my breath as I pause the clip and move Chloe to the side so I can sit up.
“Is everything okay? Was that someone you knew?”
“Yes.”
“Oh my God,” she gasps, bolting upright.
I lean down, grab my pants from the floor, and slide my legs into the holes. “The Mortellis and the Mancinis have been at odds for as long as I can remember.”
“So he’s not someone you actually liked?”
“I’m indifferent. I’d never met the man, but my father hated him with a passion … I’m sure the feeling was mutual. ”
I zip up my fly, careful not to snag the delicate skin on my dick in the metal teeth since I’m not wearing any underwear. I stalk across the room and remove the painting off the wall, revealing the safe that lies behind it. It’s cliché, I know, but sometimes the most obvious place is the one people overlook.
“What are you doing?” she asks, her voice tight as I begin punching in the code.
“Calling my brother.”
“Oh.”
The surprise I hear in her voice has me glancing over my shoulder. “What did you think I was getting? A gun?”
She shrugs, a half smirk playing at the corner of her lips. “Maybe.”
“I don’t own a gun.”
“But—”
“It was fake.”
“Yeah, right.”
“True story,” I state.
“That makes no sense. I’ve seen your men carrying, so it’s not like you don’t have access to guns.”
“That’s right, I do. I held my first real gun when I was fourteen, and I swore it would be my last.”
“Why?” she asks, probing further.
I should tell her it’s none of her business, but I find myself doing the exact opposite. “My father made me shoot a man between the eyes that day. It was the first and last time. I don’t have the stomach for that kind of thing.”
I hear her gasp before saying, “You killed a man when you were fourteen years old?”
I probably shouldn’t have admitted that to her—it’s not something I ever talk about—but I feel like there are already too many secrets between us.
I clear my throat. “Yes. When my father sensed I didn’t have the guts to go through with it, he pointed his gun at the side of my head, giving me a choice, either him or me.”
“Oh my God, Alex,” she whispers. “That’s awful.”
I shrug. “It is what it is. To my father’s great shame and disappointment, I strive to be nothing like him. That’s the kind of vicious lifestyle he chooses to live—kill or be killed—and I don’t want any part of it.”
She clambers off the bed and comes up behind me, wrapping her arms around my waist and resting her cheek against my back. “I’m sorry he put you in a position like that. What a terrible thing to do to your own child.”
“I distanced myself from that world for a reason, bella ,” I tell her as those damn fucking images of large brown pleading eyes flash through my mind.
I drag my hand down my face, trying to push those thoughts away. A part of me wants to pull free from her hold, but the rest of me craves the comfort she offers.
The last thing I need is for Chloe to see that fucked-up, broken side of me. Can she feel my heart pounding against my chest? I can’t stand showing anyone my weaknesses. It’s something that has been drummed into me since I was a small boy. In my father’s eyes, exposing my vulnerabilities makes me less of a man.
“Do you think your family was involved in offing that Mortelli guy?”
I open the door and pull out one of the burner phones I store inside. “I don’t know,” I answer honestly, but my gut tells me they were.
I stride down towards the rear of my property before dialling my brother’s number. Although I’ve never found a listening device at my residence, it doesn’t mean it’s not bugged. I was raised to be cautious and to never underestimate the opposition.
“Alex,” Dante says as soon as he answers. “Give me a minute … I’ll call you back.”
“Okay,” I reply before he ends the call.
Like me, he has been groomed into this lifestyle, so I know he’ll return my call on a secure line.
I rake my fingers through my hair, pacing back and forth, praying my family wasn’t reckless enough to go there. The last time I spoke with my brother, he hinted that trouble was on the horizon. I just hope this isn’t what he meant.
The sound of my phone ringing jolts me from my thoughts, its shrill tone cutting through the night’s silence.
“I’m gathering you’ve heard the news,” he says when I answer the call.
“Please tell me you had nothing to do with it.”
“Of course I did. That motherfucker had it coming,” he barks down the line. “Maybe now the Mortellis will stay the hell out of our business.”
It breaks my heart to see what my little brother has become under our father’s influence. I always protected and looked out for him growing up, and when I left, I begged him to come with me, but he chose to stay. And now I fear I’ve lost him to the dark side. I barely recognise the man he is now.
I tilt my head back and groan as my frustration builds.
Shit like this can only mean one thing … retaliation. An all-out fucking bloodbath. It’s how things work with the Cosa Nostra —an eye for an eye. Or countless eyes for an eye when you’re talking about the cold-blooded murder of a Mafia boss. Mortelli’s two sons are fucking psychopaths like their old man was. They won’t take his slaying lying down.
Our family already had a damn target on our backs. This stupid move is as good as signing off on your own death warrant, in my opinion.
“Fucking hell, Dante. You can’t take out the head of their famiglia and expect peace in return. Hell’s bound to rain down on not only you, but everyone around us.”
Even though I’ve distanced myself from this life, I know I’m not safe from this either. My father has made it known that I’m to be his successor. That automatically puts a price on my head.
“There’s not much he can do considering he’s got three fucking bullets in his head,” Dante spits. “He should’ve known better than to mess with our famiglia .”
What happened to my sweet little brother, the one who used to climb into bed beside me during thunderstorms? “Fuck, Dante, can you hear yourself? You sound unhinged.”
“I’m not unhinged, I’m pissed off … there’s a difference.”
“People piss me off on a daily, but I don’t go around shooting them.”
“He’s the one who orchestrated the interception of our last two shipments from Italy. Do you have any idea how much money that has cost our family, Alex? Fucking millions. Not to mention the damage it did to our reputation.”
“Then take something of theirs in return.”
“We did … Vincent’s life,” he chuckles.
The fact that he can find any sort of humour in this situation makes me sick to the stomach.
“Did you have to go right to the top and kill their patriarch, of all people? Do you have any idea what you have done? There were other ways to send a message.”
“We were done fucking around with those cunts. We wanted to make sure they got the message loud and clear. I’m pretty sure they did.”
“So Papa was okay with his execution? ”
Obviously, my father calls the shots; he always has, but I thought he was smarter than this.
“He’s the one who gave the order.”
I don’t doubt that Edoardo, Papa’s consigliere, had a hand in this. He’s my father’s best friend … his confidant, and has way too much sway, as far as I’m concerned. He’s like the devil whispering in the devil’s ear—and that’s never a good combination.
Am I the only one with common sense in this family?
“Do you have to go?” Chloe asks, standing beside the bed, her eyes fixed on the suitcase I’m packing.
“Yes, I do.”
“Is it safe?”
“I’m taking a few of my men with me, and my father will have his place locked down like a fortress.”
She falls silent, and when I glance over, I see the look in her eyes, like she’s fighting back tears.
I stop what I’m doing and reach for her. “Come here, amore mio ,” I murmur, pulling her into my arms and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
“Can I come with you?”
“Not a chance in hell. I don’t want you anywhere near that place.” And for reasons far bigger than this current mess. My father can’t know she’s here.
“How long will you be gone?” she asks, sliding her hands under my suit jacket and wrapping her arms tightly around my waist. She lets out a small sigh as the side of her cheek comes to rest against me. It feels so natural, so effortless, that it makes my heart constrict in my chest.
My feelings for her are growing at an alarming rate. We’ve come so far in the past few weeks, to the point where I’m not sure I can picture my life without her in it anymore. She’s fast becoming an extension of me, which is both thrilling and petrifying in equal measure.
She fits into my world seamlessly, and when she’s not busting my balls or challenging my every move, she’s so easy to be around. Her laid-back nature and sweet disposition are strangely addictive.
“Hopefully I’ll be back tomorrow.” I have no idea what I’m going to face when I arrive. I may not agree with the things my family do, but I still love them.
“I’m going to miss you,” she whispers.
“You are?” I ask, gently cupping her face and tilting her head back. Those words catch me off guard, but when I look into her eyes, I see her truth clear as day.
I lean down, placing my lips against hers. I’m going to miss her too, more than I care to admit.
Her hands fist in the back of my shirt, tugging me closer. I deepen the kiss, but as soon as I feel my dick begin to swell, I reluctantly pull away. The chopper will be here shortly, so I don’t have time for this. I need to talk to the guards before I leave.
“Can I trust you won’t leave the house while I’m gone?” I ask, my tone serious. “I don’t want you taking any chances, bella . I’ve got extra men patrolling the perimeter, and as long as you stay here, you’ll be safe. There’s a lot happening right now, and the last thing I need is to be worrying about your well-being.”
“I’ll behave.”
I smile down at her as the pad of my thumb skims over her bottom lip. “Do you even know how to do that?” I tease.
She lifts one shoulder. “Sometimes.”
I bark out a laugh as I lean in and brush my lips with hers one last time. “I’ve made sure my men know that nobody gets in or out. Carmella has enough supplies to last the next week if need be. This place is in lockdown until I return.”
“Are you going to lock me away in my room until then?”
“No.”
Her eyes slightly widen. “You’re not?”
“Do I need to?”
“No.”
“Good.” I release her and reach for the handle of my suitcase, lifting it off the bed and striding towards the door. “If all goes well, I’ll be seeing you tomorrow.” I can only hope I’m not walking into the middle of a warzone.
“Alex,” she says, reaching for my free hand and wrapping her dainty fingers around it. “Be safe.”
I lift our joined hands to my mouth, placing a soft kiss on her knuckles. Our eyes meet for a fleeting moment, and a silent something passes between us. I’m not sure what it is, but it sends a chill running up my spine.
I drop her hand, turn, and leave the room. I need to get out of here before I do something stupid, like tell her I love her.
I’m not surprised, under the circumstances, that my father doesn’t come to the airport to greet me. He sends two cars that contain some of his best men to collect me instead.
He may be disappointed in the man I’ve become, but he loves me all the same. I’m his heir apparent, and keeping me safe is likely somewhere near the top of his priority list.
Even though he was the one who gave the orders, he knows the gravity of his actions will not go unpunished. He’ll keep himself out of harm’s way for the foreseeable future .
Antonio and I slide into the back seat of the first car; my other two men get into the vehicle parked behind ours.
Other than a few greetings, the journey to my father’s estate is a silent one. The air is so thick you could cut it with a knife. Do his men realise what an idiotic mistake this was too?
None of us are safe from this, and the fallout may well be cataclysmic.
As I surmised, my father’s vast estate is crawling with his men. It’s locked down like Fort Knox. My eyes scan the landscape as we travel down the long driveway. It’s been a while since I’ve been back here, but nothing much has changed.
When I reach the house, my men hang back as I make my way inside. I head straight for my father’s office because I presume that’s where he’ll be.
I knock once before turning the handle on the heavy wooden door. “Alessandro,” my father says, his arms raised in greeting when he spots me. A smile spreads across his aging face as he rises from his chair and rounds his desk to greet me.
We may not be as close as we once were, but I can tell he’s genuinely happy to see me, just as I am to see him.
A heaviness settles in my chest as I think about the fallout of his actions. I may not share his beliefs or support the life he’s chosen, but I don’t want any harm to come to him—or to my brother.
When my father reaches me, he grasps my shoulders, leaning in to kiss both of my cheeks. “Welcome home, Son.”
“Hey, Papa,” I reply, reciprocating his greeting .
My brother is standing behind him, waiting his turn, so we briefly hug and pat each other on the back.
Once I’ve greeted them both, I move to shake the hands of the other men in the room, forcing out a smile when I get to Edoardo. I’ve always tried hard to hide my disdain for this man. The fact that my father has never mentioned it, tells me I’ve done a good job of covering it up.
“Sit,” my father says, motioning to the chair where my brother had been sitting. I catch the flash of dejection on Dante’s face, the subtle shift in his expression as he’s pushed aside now that I’ve arrived.
My father still thinks I’ll step in and take over the family business once he’s gone, but I don’t want that position, and deep down, he knows it. I’m happy with my life just the way it is. My brother, on the other hand, thrives in this world, whereas I loathe it.
“You sit, Dante,” I say, giving his shoulder a slight squeeze. “I feel like I’ve been sitting down all morning; I need to stretch my legs.”
I keep my focus on my brother, but I can feel my father’s gaze searing into the side of my head. He’s never taken kindly to being challenged and knows exactly what I’m doing.
I’ve often wondered if his insistence on me as his successor is because I’m his firstborn son, or if it’s simply that he cannot stand anyone daring to defy his wishes. The truth is, we both know Dante is the better man for the position, if for no other reason than that he actually wants it.
My father clears his throat and retakes his seat. “Would you like something to drink, son, or something to eat? I can have Lina cook something for you.”
Just the mere mention of her name makes my stomach recoil. “I’m good,” I reply.
“How long are you home for? ”
“I was planning on heading back tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” he repeats, frowning.
“I have commitments back home.”
“This is, and always will be, your home,” he grumbles. “We need you here to help sort out this mess.”
“You mean the mess you created?”
He flicks his hand, dismissing what I said. “You’re staying … at least until the end of the week. I won’t hear another word about it.”
“I can’t,” I reply, casually shoving my hands into the pockets of my trousers. I’m not going to let him railroad me into getting involved. I want no part of it.
“It’s that bastardo , isn’t it? You’re still seeing him despite me insisting you cut him out of your life.”
That comment instantly raises my hackles. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t refer to my son in that way.”
This has him clenching his fist and forcefully banging it down on the desk. “He’s not your son,” he bellows.
My nostrils flare as I take a deep breath through my nose. He starts the same old shit every time I come here, hence why I rarely do.
“Can we just agree to disagree? I didn’t come here to fight. Giovanni never asked to be born. That poor kid is innocent in all of this,” I reply through gritted teeth.
My father pinches the bridge of his nose and mumbles something unintelligible in Italian under his breath before saying, “I can’t believe he bears my name.”
“You fucking made me name him after you,” I yell, losing my cool.
“That was before I realised you’d married a troia .”
“You made me marry her, so get off your high fucking horse, old man.”
My father shoots me a look so cold and lethal it could kill, and I watch two of his men shrink back in their seats, but Edoardo just grins like a smug motherfucker, which only angers me further.
Papa can argue this matter with me all he wants, but he won’t win. It’s the truth, and deep down, he knows it. He just hates being called out on his bullshit.
“Enough,” Dante barks, standing and holding his two hands out in front of him. “We have more important things to deal with right now.”
Right. Another one of my father’s fuckups.