24. Alessandro
ALESSANDRO
Heaven help me, I want to believe her. Despite the fact that eight leaders in my organization are dead and her family is the culprit, I want to believe she’s not involved. I want to believe she feels something for me.
Fuck.
I rake my hand through my hair, my mind racing to make sense of everything. The poisoned whiskey. Marco's careful plans, or are they Enrico’s? All evidence points to the Vitales. A plot that could have killed me, my brother, everyone I care about.
And yet, standing before me is a Vitale who looks utterly devastated by what her family has done and that I’m accusing her of being a part of it.
"You really didn't know?" I ask, hating my weakness for her that will probably be my ruin.
"No. I would never be a part of something like that.”
I study her face, searching for the tells of deception. There are none. Just pain.
I think I’ll be happier when I’m dead.
Those words felt like a knife in my chest. She thinks she’ll be happier dead? The worst part is that I’m a part of the equation that adds up to her feeling like she’s worthless and her life will be nothing but pain.
She accused me of seducing her to manipulate her, and she’s not wrong. I did that. What I hadn’t anticipated is trapping myself in my own snare.
I've tried not to feel anything for you.
She feels something beyond contempt and fear.
“I know you don’t believe me,” she responds to my comment. “I know you don’t feel anything except hate—”
“Not hate. Not for you,” I admit.
She shrugs. “The point is, I could love you, Alessandro—”
“You shouldn't. Love me, I mean. It's not safe."
"Do you think I chose this?" A flash of that defiance I've come to admire sparks in her eyes. "I didn't want to feel anything for you. Right now, I really wish I didn’t. But I do."
Something shifts inside me. I've been so focused on what she represents as the daughter of Marco Vitale that I've refused to see who she actually is. A woman caught between loyalties, trying to navigate an impossible situation. And she’s doing it with dignity and courage.
I take a step toward her, then another, until I'm close enough to catch the subtle scent of her perfume. My hand rises of its own accord, gently brushing away a tear from her cheek.
She looks up at me, her eyes wary, but she doesn’t pull away.
"I've been unfair to you. Blaming you for the sins of your father. Maybe I’ve been looking for proof that you're like your father."
“I’m not like him.”
"I need to start seeing you for who you are." The warning bells clang again. I shouldn’t believe her, shouldn’t trust her.
But as I look into her beautiful eyes, I don’t see guile.
I see a woman who wants to belong. A strong, smart woman who could be an asset to my family if I gave her a chance.
Hell, perhaps she’s right in that we could forge something beyond a marriage of convenience.
And yet…
I've spent my entire life focused on business and avoiding emotions, especially those involving women. These feelings swirling in my chest terrify me.
Isabella watches me, her eyes filled with hope. “Can you do that?”
I stare at her, unable to answer. The hope in her eyes begins to dim.
"Alessandro?"
I turn away, moving to the window to put distance between us. When did I start caring what this woman thinks of me? When did her pain become mine?
"I can't give you what you want," I finally say, the words coming out harsher than intended. "I don't know how."
“You can’t see me for who I am?”
“I can’t trust you.” I roll my shoulders, but it doesn’t release the tension. “The only person I've truly trusted since my father died is Adriano."
I turn back to face her, needing her to understand. “This family, its survival is the only thing that matters.”
“I’m a Dante now. Aren’t I family?”
“Your blood runs with Vitale DNA.”
I think I could have struck her and the pain I'd see in her eyes wouldn’t be as bad as the words I just said.
“So nothing’s changed. You’re still going to hold me accountable for my father and brother?” Isabella takes a step toward me. "I'm not them."
"I know that," I snap. "Logically, I know. But this life doesn't allow for trust. The moment I forget that, people die."
I look at her and see someone who's caught in the same trap I am. Born into a world neither of us chose, trying to find something real.
She looks down. “Can you at least tell me you weren’t using me in Capri? Was it all just… fucking?”
I should tell her yes. It would hurt her, but then I could cut this tie that keeps pulling me back to her.
“I won’t lie that I wanted to gain your loyalty to me.”
“Oh.” She starts to turn away.
I reach out and take her arm in defiance of what my mind says I should do. “But, no, it wasn’t just fucking. I feel something for you.” The confession costs me more than she'll ever know. "But I can’t be what you need. I can’t give you what a normal man would."
She holds my gaze, unflinching. "I didn't marry a normal man. I married you."
My hands cup her face, my mind screaming caution as I wipe the remnants of tears from her cheeks.
Her hands come up to grip my wrists, not pushing me away but like she’s anchoring herself to me. The touch sends electricity racing up my arms.
"I never asked to be born a Vitale," she says, her eyes never leaving mine. "Just like you never asked to be born a Dante. We're more than our family names."
“And what are you?”
“I’m Isabella Dante, wife of Don Dante.” She closes her eyes as sadness sweeps over her face.
“What?”
Her eyes open. “That’s all I am. Not a painter or a writer. Not a business woman or even a college student. I’m whatever you tell me to be.”
Why do I feel like shit?
“What do you want to be?”
She gives me a wan smile. “I don’t know. No one has ever asked me that.”
A crazy desire to help her find herself fills me.
“But I can tell you I’m not your enemy. I’m not trying to undermine you or help my father. Given the chance, I could be a good wife. A loving wife.”
A war inside me rages. Protect myself or take the risk. Let her in. Give whatever it is between us a chance to become something real.
I want her. Not just her body, though God knows, I crave that too. I want her mind, her heart, her trust. I want to be the man who deserves what she's offering.
But wanting isn't having, and the fear of betrayal paralyzes me.
Her fingers tighten around my wrists. "Say something.”
The only words that come to mind will only upset her. Create distance. The last thing I want is to have her pull away.
So I don’t give her the words that reveal my torment, my fear of trusting her. Instead, I pull her against me, unable to resist any longer.
When our lips meet, it's not like our previous kisses. There's no power play, no dominance or submission. Just a terrifying need to believe her, to trust that she can help me be the man I need to be to protect my family.
She makes a soft sound against my mouth, her body melting into mine. It surprises me, considering the accusations I’ve tossed at her and my failure to offer my trust. She’s offering me what I’m unable to give her, and her trust in me is humbling.
I slide one hand into her hair, cradling the back of her head while my other arm wraps around her waist, eliminating any space between us.
Her fingers thread through my hair, tugging just enough to send electricity racing down my spine. The gentle aggression in her touch awakens a white-hot need.
I lift her, her legs wrapping around my waist as I carry her to our bed. This time when I lay her down, there are no restraints, no battle of wills. Just us.
I undress her, taking my time to reveal each inch of skin. I press kisses to the inside of her wrist, the crook of her elbow, the soft hollow of her throat. I can’t give her what she wants in words, but I can show her what I wish I could give her.
When she's naked beneath me, I pause to look at her. She’s so fucking beautiful. And trusting. And giving. And I’m a fucking asshole.
Her hands reach for me, tugging at my clothes. I help her until there's nothing between us.
The first slide of skin against skin pulls a groan from deep in my chest. She’s soft and warm as her body arches into mine.
Our lips meet again as I position myself over her. Her legs open, wrapping around my hips. I rub my cock over her pussy, finding it slick. I lean over, sucking her nipple.
“Oh!” Her hips buck up, and I use the movement to drive into her. The sensation is so overwhelming I have to grit my teeth to keep from coming.
Her legs tighten around me, pulling me deeper, and I begin to move. I hold back, wanting to draw this moment out. To stay seeped inside her sweet body as long as I can.
Isabella's eyes remain open, fixed on mine. In them I see desire, but also trust and hope. Fuck, I wish I could give her everything she wants from me, from us.
Unable to hold her gaze, I kiss her deeply and keep moving, slow, steady, deep.
Her breath hitches, and I know she’s close, so I stop.
She moans in frustration. My dick pulses, unhappy about it too.
But right now, I feel good. Nearly happy, even.
Not just physically. My chest is full. My mind is calm.
I feel whole. Connected. She does that to me. And I’m not ready for it to end yet.
“Alessandro,” her voice is a whimper as her pussy pulses around my dick, her hips rock against me.
“There’s no hurry.” I slide out and in again, then pause. “Do you feel me, Isabella? Do you feel what you do to me?”
“Yes.” She arches her head back and leans over to suckle my neck.
“You undo me.” The words escape without my permission, and I hate the power they can give her over me.
Her eyes snap open, but I don’t see acknowledgement of the leverage I just gave her. Instead, I see more of her trust. Her… fuck… Is it love?
Unable to cope, I move, my thrusts growing faster, harder, driving us both up and up.
Her release washes over her in waves that ripple through her body.
The sight of her coming undone beneath me, pushes me to the brink.
I let go of the reins of control and plunge into her depths.
My orgasm slams into me, rocks my body until I swear I feel it in every nerve ending. My dick pulses, my body shudders.
We ride the storm together until we collapse in a heap. As my breathing steadies, I’m hit with the realization that something has shifted between us. As much as I tried to guard against her, I’ve crossed into territory I swore I'd never enter.
What’s crazy is that I’m not as terrified as I should be. She has the power to bring me to my knees. If my enemies find out, she will become a vulnerability my enemies will exploit.
My father would call me a fool. Lorenzo Dante never allowed himself to love my mother enough that her loss would destroy him. He went through the motions when she passed, but he was off fucking his mistress hours after the funeral.
“You need to show respect to women, but never care too much. Your love for someone is the weapon your enemies will use to destroy you,” he’d explained.
My siblings clearly didn’t care. And I know without a doubt if their spouses died, they’d never survive it. Why risk all that pain?
Maybe they didn’t have a choice. Maybe, like me, love seeped in on its own and they were unable to stop it.
“Are you okay?”
I look down at Isabella, her eyes showing wariness again.
I press my lips to her forehead. “Rest.”
It’s not what she wants to hear, but it’s all I can give her. I roll off her but hold her close, wanting to give her some reassurance, even as I know this thing between us will either make me stronger or be my downfall.
Falling for my wife won’t stop her father from trying to kill me. It won’t bring back the men I lost tonight. It won’t guarantee my family’s victory.
“Alessandro?”
“Hmm?”
“You don’t have to love me.”
I glance at her, and my chest tightens as I realize I wish I could love her.
“But can you respect me? Can you figure out a way to trust that I’m with you, whatever happens?”
I kiss her temple in response because I can’t give her that. Not fully. Not yet.