Antonio
After Dante leaves, I lock up, securing what I intend to be a home—our home. Alessia’s free to come and go as she pleases. But the life we lead, my job as Capo, means neither of us can escape the necessity of having guards. They’re always there, lingering just beyond sight.
Exhaustion pulls at me as I make my way upstairs, the steps creaking as I go. Passing by her room I notice the door slightly ajar. I pause when I hear the soft sound of her tears.
The urge to go to her, to hold her, is overwhelming, but I promised her I wouldn’t touch her. I force myself to keep moving, my feet heavy as I retreat to my own room. The ache in my chest is no longer from exhaustion, but from knowing she’s hurting. And I can’t do a damn thing about it.
Kicking off my shoes, I shrug out of my suit jacket, draping it over the arm of the chair. My body wants nothing more than to collapse into bed, but the shrill ring of my phone stops me. Draco. His name flashes across the screen like an omen.
I swipe to answer, pressing the phone to my ear. “It seems you’ve found my daughter,” his voice slithers through the line.
“Good evening to you too,” I reply, keeping my tone measured, though my grip on the phone tightens.
“How did Alessia respond when she found out you drugged her and hauled her back from Magnolia Springs?” Draco’s says, his voice dripping with sick amusement.
There’s only one way he’d know that. “You had her followed?”
“Someone had to keep tabs on her, . Clearly, it wasn’t going to be you,” he replies without hesitation.
“What do you want, Draco?”
“Don’t be so touchy.” His laugh is like nails on a chalkboard. “I’m just letting you know I’ll be there first thing tomorrow to take my daughter off your hands.”
His arrogance sends a surge of rage through me. "Excuse me?"
“I changed my mind about our little arrangement. You’re too soft—too weak. Alessia needs a man who will crush her defiance, someone who won’t hesitate to break her. I’ve promised her to someone far more capable of doing just that.”
The fury inside me snaps like a taut wire. My tone is icy, lethal. “You’re too late. We were married tonight.”
Draco explodes. “You went behind my back?” His rage is tangible with the promise of violence in every syllable. “A rushed farce of a wedding doesn’t change anything, . It can just as easily go away.”
“Alessia’s mine,” I growl. “You won’t come anywhere near her.”
Draco’s fury seethes. "You’ve just made the biggest mistake of your life, ."
The call disconnects.
A message comes through almost immediately.
Draco: I’m coming for her. Tell Alessia to be ready.
My fingers curl around the phone, knuckles white as I read his threat. The darkness inside me stirs, hungry, ready to come out to play. I’ll burn this world to the ground before I let him take her.
My response is swift, precise.
Me: If you try, you’ll regret it for the rest of your short, miserable life.
I hit send, imagining Draco’s reaction. He believes he has the upper hand. Thinks he can play me like he did Valentino. He has no idea what he’s unleashed.
If Draco Moretti wants a war, that’s exactly what he’ll get.