33. Alexander
Chapter 33
Alexander
I slide my phone out of my pocket, lean back into the seat, and groan when I see Sophia’s name light up the screen. A mix of relief, annoyance, and sadness floods through me.
It’s now the 8th of January, and she was supposed to be back in Australia on New Year’s Day. Concern began to creep in when she didn’t show up—primarily since I hadn’t heard from her once while she was in Italy. Not even a call to wish her son a Merry Christmas.
I tried calling her repeatedly, but I was met with her voicemail each time. I left messages and contacted Mimi, who hadn’t heard from her either. As the days passed, I was on the verge of filing a missing person’s report.
“Sophia,” I say, answering the call.
“Alexander,” she replies, her voice is calm … almost too calm.
“Where are you?”
“I’m still in Italy.”
“You were supposed to return a week ago.” My voice tightens with irritatio n
“I know, that’s why I’m calling. I was wondering if I could ask you a favour.”
“Let me guess, you need more money.”
“Actually, no. I need you to take Giovanni to the school and have him fitted for his school uniform.”
“I have no issue doing that, but can’t you take him yourself when you return?”
“No. I only have until the twelfth to get his order in. Otherwise, his uniform won’t be ready by the time school starts at the end of the month.”
I blow out a long breath, frustration building. “You won’t be back by the twelfth?”
“No, I was planning on staying here a little longer.”
“And when were you planning on telling me that?”
“I just did.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to keep my cool. “Can I ask why you didn’t even bother to ring our son to wish him a Merry Christmas?”
“My son,” she corrects, her voice sharp, which only annoys me further. She always rubs that in. “And I was busy … I forgot.”
“Busy doing what?”
She falls silent momentarily like she’s choosing her words carefully. “I’m not sure how you will feel about this, but I’ve met someone.”
“To be honest, I couldn’t care less.” Her admission lingers in my mind for a moment, and then I add, “Unless you’re planning on taking our son out of the country because I will have an issue with that.”
“My son,” she repeats, her voice colder now.
“It takes more than DNA to be a father, Sophia,” I mutter as the bitterness creeps in. “You only need to look at his absent sperm donor to see that. ”
“Maybe my son’s sperm donor wouldn’t be absent if I knew who he was.”
Does she even realise or care how bad that sounds? “Hmm,” I hum, my tone full of disgust.
“I haven’t told Luigi—the guy I’ve met—about Giovanni yet. He’s mentioned he’s not fond of kids.”
This is another reason why my son will never live in Italy with her. “He sounds like a real catch,” I grumble, my voice thick with sarcasm.
“Listen,” she snaps. “I didn’t call for your attitude. Will you take him to his fitting or not?”
“I already told you I would. It’s not like you have an alternative.”
“I could ask Mimi.”
“Will you be back for his first day of school?”
“I don’t know.”
“Wow,” I say, genuinely flabbergasted not just by her flippancy, but by her complete disregard for her son.
“You’re always bitching that you don’t see him enough,” she snarls as if it’s somehow my fault. “I didn’t think you’d mind. If it’s an issue, drop him off at the house; Mimi will take care of him until I return.”
“He’s staying with me,” I reply sharply. “I never said it was an issue. I’d keep him indefinitely if you’d let me. I think you know that.”
The silence on the other end of the line is thick, but I don’t care. I’ve had enough of her excuses. “Is there anything else he needs for school just in case you’re not back for his first day?”
“Umm … yeah, a bag and stuff.”
“Stuff. Could you be more specific?”
“Mimi has a detailed list. I can’t exactly remember what was on it.”
“Okay, I’ll chase it up with her. ”
“Thank you.”
“No problem.”
I hate how she treats Giovanni sometimes, but I’m grateful he gets to stay with me a little longer. He’s settled in so quickly, and for the first time in ages, he seems truly happy and more relaxed. But the thought of him leaving soon makes my stomach turn. It’s going to break his little fucking heart—and mine—and there’s nothing I can do to shield him from that.
Chloe pulls out her phone and snaps a picture of Giovanni in his school uniform as the seamstress carefully pins up the sleeves of his blazer. He looks so grown up, and it makes my heart ache.
He’s growing so fast, more of a little man now than the cherub-faced baby I fell in love with the day he was born.
It feels like just yesterday I was holding him in my arms, and now he’s standing there, so much taller and more independent. Time is slipping by too quickly.
When we leave the school, we drive to the department store to pick up all the supplies Giovanni will need. I’ve got the list Mimi gave me stuffed in my pocket: lead pencils, coloured pencils, a pencil case, rubber, sharpener, a glue stick, exercise books, a lunchbox, and a drink bottle … the list goes on.
You’d think the ten thousand dollars a term I’m paying in school fees would cover all that, but clearly not. It’s not that I can’t afford it—I can—but I can’t help wondering how his tiny body is going to cope with lugging all that shit around every day.
He stands between us as we head inside, his little hands tightly clutching ours. I can’t even remember the last time I went shopping. I usually pay someone to do it for me, but Giovanni’s excitement is infectious.
He’s all over Chloe whenever she’s around, and while I used to feel a tad jealous of how he clung to her, I’m getting used to it. She’s a positive influence, and I understand the effect she has on him—hell, I’m under her spell as well.
“I feel like you’re dating the wrong brother, Chloe,” Dante says, his grin wide as he openly flirts with my woman. “Don’t you think so, Lina?”
I swear, he hasn’t stopped since we brought him home. If he’s doing it to get under my skin, it’s definitely working.
“Don’t bring me into the middle of this,” Lina replies, her voice flat, trying to avoid the drama.
“What do you think, Chlo? You want to upgrade?” Dante teases, waggling his eyebrows at her.
Chloe smirks at him as she shovels a fork full of pasta into her mouth, and it pisses me off. Would it kill her to say no?
“Enough,” I bark, my tone sharp, but it only makes my brother chuckle.
He was discharged from the hospital a week ago and has been busting my balls ever since. He was supposed to go into a rehab facility for a month, but he insisted he’d lose his mind if he were stuck in a small room for another four weeks, so I arranged for his physiotherapy to be done here instead.
I’m now second-guessing that decision.
My once peaceful, quiet home is buzzing with activity. I used to crave the solitude this place offered … the stillness gave me space to think. However, I’ve never been happier than I have been this past month .
There’s something about the noise, the movement, and the sense of purpose that comes with having people around. It’s chaotic, sure, but it’s also … comforting. I feel like I’m an integral part of a family unit again, and for the first time in a long while, I realise I’ve missed that connection.
“Relax. I’m just messing with you,” Dante says, his grin widening, but I don’t miss the wink he shoots at Chloe as he says it. “Am I not allowed to have fun with my future sister-in-law?”
“No, it’s sick and depraved,” I retort sharply, and the table falls into an uncomfortable silence.
My eyes scan the room as Dante leans back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head, smirking like a motherfucker.
Chloe, Lina, and Carmella stare at me wide-eyed, clearly caught off guard by my response. The tension hangs thick, and I can feel everyone holding their breath, waiting for someone to break the silence.
If he thinks he will scare Chloe off with that remark, he’s delusional. She’s well aware that she’s mine and that I’m keeping her forever. I just haven’t made it official yet.
A growl rumbles in the back of my throat. “She’s mine. You can’t have her. End. Of. Story.”
Dante’s smile grows wider, and he clearly enjoys the reaction he’s gotten. He picks up his fork and starts eating again as if the whole thing’s been nothing more than a game. I can tell he’s proud of himself, knowing exactly how to get under my skin.
“Are you excited for your first day at big school tomorrow, champ?” Dante asks, his voice light as he turns his attention to Giovanni.
My son lifts one shoulder in a half shrug instead of replying, and when he bows his head, I sit up straighter in my seat. I thought he was looking forward to starting school, but now I’m unsure.
Chloe notices his strange reaction too. She reaches out and gently strokes her hand over his hair. “You’re going to have the best time and make heaps of friends,” she says softly.
Giovanni looks up at her, his eyes filled with uncertainty. “What if the other kids don’t like me?” he asks quietly.
“Then I’ll beat the little fuckers up,” Dante spits.
“Language,” Lina says, gesturing to Giovanni. “Impressionable ears.” I have to roll my lips to hide my smile when her gaze moves to Chloe, and she lifts an accusing eyebrow.
Great, now I have two pottymouths around my son.
“Ah, right,” Dante replies with a wince. “I mean, I’ll beat the little shits up.”
“As if that’s any better,” I chime in. “And we are talking about five-year-olds. You can’t beat up a child.”
“Then I’ll hire some five-year-old thugs to do it for me,” he deadpans.
“Stop,” I growl at my brother as he stands tall next to Giovanni with his arms crossed over his chest in full gangster mode. “He’s never going to make any friends if you keep looking at all the kids like that.”
“I’m just taking inventory.”
“Inventory on what?”
“Who I need to whack.”
“You are not whacking anyone,” I grumble through gritted teeth. “Do I need to remind you these are kids?”
“Metaphorically speaking,” Dante replies with a grin, clearly enjoying himself. “I’m just looking out for my nephew … it’s my job as his uncle.”
As unimpressed as I am by his typical Dante antics, I can’t help but feel a slight tug at the corners of my lips. Up until Giovanni came to live with us, Dante never really had a chance to develop a relationship with him.
He never outright denied him—unlike my father, who’d distanced himself once we found out Giovanni wasn’t mine biologically—but with Dante living almost five hundred kilometres away and me only having Giovanni for two days a month, they barely saw each other.
He occasionally asked about him, which was enough to show me he cared, even if he wasn’t around. But he’s now openly acknowledging Giovanni as family, calling him his nephew without hesitation. It means more to me than he probably realises.
It’s a small thing, but to me, it’s everything.
When it’s time for Giovanni to head to class, we all say our goodbyes. Chloe pulls him in for a second hug, holding him a little tighter before he walks off with the rest of the kids.
It’s an emotional moment, and that damn knot in the back of my throat has returned, tightening with every step he takes away from us. I’m grateful I got to share this momentous moment with him, but I didn’t realise it would be this hard.
I know he’s safe because I’ve already researched the school and conducted a thorough background check on his teacher.
Once he disappears around the corner, Dante nudges me in the ribs with a teasing grin. “Are you crying?”
“No! Are you?” I snap, not realising how defensive I sound.
As we turn to leave, heading toward the gate, I reach for Chloe, but my hand finds an empty space. Looking back, I see her still standing in the same spot, her eyes fixed on the school, tears streaming down her face.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath.
The sight of her like this twists something in me. I hate seeing her upset, and it sure as hell doesn’t help the bravado I’m trying to hold on to.
It’s not just the thought of Giovanni growing up, it’s the way she cares so deeply, how her heart is just as invested in him as mine.
“I’ve got this,” Dante says, placing his hand on my shoulder and squeezing it before heading in her direction.
“The fuck you have,” I growl, moving towards her with long, purposeful strides. He’s no match since he’s still on one crutch.
I hear him chuckle as I pass … arsehole. He did that intentionally to get under my skin, and I fell for it hook, line, and sinker.
When we arrive at my hotel, Spencer Prescott is waiting for us in the lobby. He looks every bit the professional as he adjusts his suit jacket, his expression a mix of anticipation and focus. He’s here to sit down with Chloe and give her a firsthand run-through of the accountancy program he developed for the company, providing a chance to make suggestions and iron out any bugs before we implement it across our numerous businesses.
My first duty as head of this family will be to replace Lorenzo—the man my father had entrusted with our books for many years. It’s no secret I can’t stand him. I’d instantly disliked him from day one when I watched how he treated his female staff .
He may not have betrayed us like Theodore once did, but in my opinion, he wasn’t the great man my father believed him to be. I found him lazy and, at times, incompetent. He was also a sexist pig, which wasn’t even his least redeemable trait.
After making introductions, we head towards my office. “You coming?” I ask Dante over my shoulder. I’m trying to get him interested in the legitimate side of our company.
He is standing by the reception desk, talking—or should I say flirting—with one of my staff. “I’ll be there in a minute,” he replies.
I roll my eyes, but at least Chloe’s not garnering his attention this time.
I set Spencer up in front of my computer, and Chloe takes a seat next to him. They’re a little too close for my comfort, but I remind myself he has a wife and child he’s crazy about, so I bite my tongue.
I’ve been acting like a jealous idiot since we brought Dante home, even though, deep down, I know Chloe loves me. It’s a side of me I don’t particularly like, but I’ve always been possessive when it comes to the people I care about.
I can tell right away that I made the right choice when her questions start flowing, things I never would’ve even thought to ask. I can tell how impressed she is with the program as Spencer explains everything to her.
If I’m being honest, I’d prefer if she didn’t work, but she’s made it clear on several occasions that she wants to. I can’t help but wonder if she’d consider taking over Lorenzo’s position—at least temporarily.
I glance down at my watch and see it’s been half an hour, and Dante still isn’t here.
“Give me a moment,” I say, putting down my notes and standing.
My lips thin when I enter the lobby and see that Bethany—the woman who’s supposed to be managing the front desk—and my brother are missing.
This shit will need to stop if he’s going to help me run things. The last thing he needs is a sexual harassment charge. Sure, prior to Chloe, I was no saint, but my brother has always been reckless, especially when it comes to women.
I round the front desk and head straight for the small room behind it. I can’t say I’m surprised when I find my brother leaning against the far wall getting a blowjob from the hotel’s receptionist.
“For fuck’s sake, Dante,” I growl, locking eyes with him, trying my best to ignore what is happening below his waist.
Naturally, he doesn’t make a move to stop what’s happening. He just smirks, but thankfully, Bethany has enough sense to remove his cock from her mouth and stand.
“I’m sorry, Mr Mancini,” she says, her face turning as red as the blouse she’s wearing.
“Gather your things,” I reply, my voice surprisingly calm. “You’re fired.”
I close the door and step further into the room as my brother proceeds to tuck his dick back into his pants. “What the fuck was that. I turn my back on you for one second?—”
“Spare me the lecture … I was in hospital for a month.”
“And getting hand jobs from a blonde nurse,” I retort.
“That only happened twice. I’m not sure if someone found out about my sponge baths with a happy ending, but she was quickly replaced by some old chook with a face so stern I’m surprised my dick didn’t shrivel up and die.”
“You need to stay away from my staff.”
“Fine,” he says, holding his hands up defensively. “You did me a favour by coming in here.”
I frown. “How?”
“Did you see how tall she was? She was seated when I was chatting to her, but when she stood, I knew I’d made a mistake. She was a fucking giant, like at least seven feet tall. I had to crane my neck to look at her. She told me she had talents. Like what? Being able to change a lightbulb without using a ladder? It’s certainly not orally.” He shudders when he speaks, and I bark out a laugh.
“She’s six foot three at best.”
“I’m six foot three.”
“She was wearing heels.”
“When we got back here, I told her to get on her knees, but I knew that wasn’t going to work when she complied, and her face was almost chest level. She ended up having to sit cross-legged on the floor to accommodate me. And when I shoved my cock down her throat, she started wheezing through her nose like some kind of asthmatic Big Bird. It was a total turn-off.”
“That will teach you to stick your dick in my employee’s mouth. Now I need to hire someone new to operate the front desk.”
“Can I interview them?”
“Hell fucking no.”
“Damn, you are no fun.”