Chapter 30 Alessandro
ALESSANDRO
The moment hits me a few weeks later while I’m watching Bianca chase Giovanni in the playroom at the compound, her laughter echoing off the walls as she pretends to be a monster hunting for her prey.
Her dark hair falls around her shoulders as she gets down on her hands and knees to crawl under the table after the giggling toddler, using her oversized sweater as the “mouth” of the monster.
Arianna squeals with delight from her perch on the couch, clapping her hands as she watches her big sister play.
“I’m gonna get you!” Bianca growls playfully, making exaggerated monster faces that send both twins into fits of giggles.
“No, Banca!” Giovanni shrieks, his round cheeks red with laughter as he scrambles away from her. “No monster!”
There’s something about seeing her like this—completely unselfconscious, purely happy, showing the side of herself that has nothing to do with crime families or trials or the weight of leadership—that makes an emotion I wasn’t expecting well up.
This is who she is underneath everything else. The woman who can command a room full of dangerous men then get on the floor to play with toddlers. The person who can plan the systematic destruction of an entire organization then worry about whether her brother is eating enough vegetables.
She’s perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect. And I don’t want to wait another day to make sure she’s mine forever.
“Got you!” Bianca announces, scooping Giovanni up and spinning him around while he squeals with joy.
The ring has been sitting in my safe for three weeks, a two-carat diamond surrounded by sapphires that reminded me of her eyes the moment I saw it.
I’ve been waiting for the right moment, the perfect opportunity, but watching her now I realize that I’m not waiting for the right moment—I’m just waiting.
And life is too short and too dangerous to postpone the future we both want.
Well, at least I hope she wants it too.
“Bianca,” I call softly.
She looks up at me, slightly breathless from chasing toddlers, Giovanni still giggling in her arms. “What?”
“I love you,” I tell her, because sometimes the most important things are also the most basic.
Her smile is radiant, her eyes soft as she cradles Giovanni to her chest. “I love you too.”
I guess this means I need to have a conversation I’ve been dreading for a while.
The next morning, I find myself sitting across from Matteo in his study, both of us holding coffee cups like shields while we dance around what I came here to discuss.
The morning light bathes everything in golden hues that should be peaceful but instead feel charged with the weight of what I’m about to ask.
“How’s Bianca adjusting to everything?” Matteo asks, settling back in his leather chair with the careful movements of someone who’s still healing from recent battles. “The official recognition, the new responsibilities?”
“She’s thriving,” I tell him honestly, noting how his entire demeanor softens when we talk about her. “Better than I think even she expected. The other families respect her now, truly respect her, and she knows it.”
“Good.” He nods then studies my face with those sharp blue-gray eyes that are so much like hers. “But you didn’t come here to tell me that.”
I set down my coffee cup and meet his gaze directly. Trust Matteo to be direct. “No, I didn’t.”
The silence stretches between us, loaded with unspoken understanding. He knows why I’m here—fathers always know—but he’s going to make me say it out loud.
“I want to marry her,” I finally state, the words carrying more weight than I expected. “I want to ask for your blessing.”
Matteo goes completely still, his expression cycling through emotions I can’t quite read. When he speaks, his voice is carefully controlled.
“She’s nineteen years old.”
I nod. “I know.”
“You’re thirty-five.” Still so controlled.
It takes everything in me to not say “duh.” “I know that too.”
Matteo’s mouth twists, his nostrils flaring slightly.
“She’s been through hell in the past few months,” he continues, his voice nearly glacial.
“Her entire identity was shattered and rebuilt. She’s just found her footing as a leader.
” His voice now gains an edge that reminds me exactly why people fear him.
“And now you want to add the complications of marriage?”
I lean forward, needing him to understand if I want to leave this room alive.
“I want to give her stability,” I correct him.
“Partnership. Someone who will stand beside her no matter what comes next.” I pause, searching for the right words.
“Matteo, I’ve loved her since she was sixteen years old.
I’ve watched her grow into the most remarkable woman I’ve ever known.
I don’t want to complicate her life—I want to be part of it. ”
“You’re already part of it,” he points out.
“As her partner in business. I want to be her partner in everything.” I meet his gaze steadily, refusing to back down. “I want to give her a family of her own. I want to protect her, support her, and love her for the rest of my life. And I want your blessing to ask her.”
The silence that follows feels eternal. Matteo stares out the window, his expression unreadable, and I can practically see him wrestling with the decision. Finally, he turns back to me.
“Do you know what it’s like to raise a daughter?” he asks quietly.
Obviously not, but there’s clearly a point he’s trying to make. “No.”
“It’s terrifying,” Matteo sighs. “Every day, you’re torn between wanting to protect her from everything and knowing you have to let her make her own choices, even when those choices might hurt her.
” His voice grows softer, more vulnerable than I’ve ever heard it.
“She’s been the center of my world for nineteen years.
My little girl, even when she was being impossible and stubborn and driving me completely insane. ”
He stands and moves to the window, his back to me as he continues.
“I know she’s actually my half-sister,” he spits the words out like it’s poison.
“And not really my biological daughter. But none of that matters. She’s mine.
She’ll always be mine, regardless of who she marries or what life she builds. ”
“I know,” I tell him quietly. “And I would never try to change that.”
“You better not.” He turns to face me, and there’s venom in his voice now as he leans over the desk, his eyes like ice chips.
“Because if you ever—and I mean ever—hurt her, disappoint her, betray her, or make her cry for any reason that isn’t completely beyond your control, I will destroy you so thoroughly that there won’t be enough left to bury. ”
The threat is delivered with absolute sincerity, and I believe every word of it.
“Understood.”
“Good.” His expression softens slightly and it makes him look younger instead of the feared mafia don he is. “Though I suspect if you ever hurt her, I’d have to get in line behind Bianca herself,” he says thoughtfully. It doesn’t look like he’d mind that.
That draws a genuine laugh from me. “She’d definitely get to me first.”
“Damn right she would.” Now he’s smiling too, the tension in the room easing slightly. “She’s tougher than both of us combined.”
Matteo returns to his chair, studying my face with the intensity of someone making a final evaluation.
“You’ll be good to her?” he asks.
“I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of her.”
“You’ll protect her?”
“With my life,” I promise him.
He steeples his fingers. “You’ll support her ambitions, even when they scare you?”
I can’t help but laugh at that. “Especially when they scare me.”
He nods slowly, seeming to come to some internal decision. “Then yes. You have my blessing.” His voice grows stern again. “But Alessandro? She’s still my daughter. That doesn’t change just because she’s getting married.”
“I wouldn’t want it to,” I tell him honestly.
The smile that spreads across his face is pure paternal pride. “Then welcome to the family. Officially.”
The restaurant I choose is an hour outside the city, tucked away in the hills with views of the Hudson Valley that take your breath away.
It’s the kind of place that doesn’t advertise, doesn’t take reservations from just anyone, and definitely doesn’t ask questions about why their guests might need absolute privacy.
Bianca looks stunning in a deep blue dress that brings out her eyes, her hair swept up in an elegant style that shows off the graceful line of her neck.
She’s been curious about why I insisted on driving so far for dinner, but she hasn’t pressed for details—just trusted me enough to go along with whatever I have planned.
Which is definitely unlike her, but I’m not going to argue about not being pestered with questions when I’m a bundle of nerves.
“This is beautiful,” she says as we’re seated at a corner table with windows overlooking the valley. “How did you find this place?”
“I have my sources,” I tell her, trying to keep my voice steady despite the ring box that feels like it’s burning a hole in my jacket pocket.
The dinner is perfect—good food, excellent wine, and conversation that flows easily from topics as light as her classes from her return to in-person classes at Columbia to as serious as our plans for expanding operations into new territory.
What strikes me most is how naturally we complement each other, how our minds work together to solve problems and build strategies.
“You know what I was thinking about today?” she says over the main course, twirling pasta around her fork.
“What’s that?” I ask, barely able to focus, let alone eat. My own plate has been barely picked at.