Chapter 18
Dean POV
I watched as Marcio and AJ walked out of the store. I elbowed Michel. He grunted and shot me an irritated look. "What?"
I kept my eyes on the rack of shirts in front of me, trying not to make it obvious as I pretended to browse. "They left," I mumbled.
Michel nodded and continued grabbing clothes off the rack. "That was fast," he muttered under his breath so only I could hear. "Maybe a little too fast."
I glanced around the store as it buzzed with people of all ages and nationalities. Most of them were tourists, too caught up in their own worlds to pay any attention to two teenagers shopping in what most people would consider a grown-up store.
The only thing that made it "grown-up" was the tailored suits, designer shirts, slacks, and expensive shoes. Most kids our age wouldn't be caught dead in a place like this.
Us?
This was normal.
When we weren't in school, this was what we wore. Not suits every day, but clothes that were clean, tailored, and respectable.
Dad always said the way we dressed represented who we were.
"You think it's a trap?" I asked quietly as we moved toward the section with jeans, shorts, and slacks neatly arranged by color.
Michel glanced behind us, making sure no one was paying attention before answering. "I think it was too easy. How bad can the Italian Mafia really be at surveillance?" he whispered. "They're trained. They can't be as incompetent as AJ and the others make them sound."
I shrugged as I stuffed the clothes I'd picked out into one of the shopping bags. It was getting too heavy to carry everything in my arms, and I still had more to grab.
"I don't know. AJ and Marcio know what they're doing. If it's a trap, they'll figure it out."
Michel nodded. "Let's just get the rest of what we need and get out of here." Another fifteen minutes later, we finally finished shopping. Since AJ and Marcio still hadn't returned, we headed to the checkout.
Behind the register stood a thin, pale man with a neatly trimmed black goatee. The moment he saw us, his polite smile slowly turned into a frown.
"Hello," he said, his thick Italian accent noticeable. His eyes drifted to the four shopping bags we carried. "I assume all of these are yours?"
"Yes, please," I answered, setting the bags on the counter. "We're kind of in a hurry."
He peered inside each bag, pulling out every item one by one to scan it. He was probably wondering what two teenagers were doing buying thousands of euros' worth of designer clothing.
I couldn't help the small smirk that tugged at my lips. If he only knew who we were...or more importantly, who our father was.
Mom always joked that if she walked into a room, people noticed her. Dad didn't even have to walk into one. His reputation usually arrived first.
The cashier caught my smirk and frowned even harder before continuing to scan our clothes.
While I kept my attention on him, Michel casually scanned the store, just like Dad had drilled into us during every training session.
Always know your surroundings.
"Questi stupidi ragazzi," the cashier muttered under his breath. (These stupid kids.)
I smiled. "Questi stupidi ragazzi ti capiscono." (These stupid kids understand you.)
The man's face immediately flushed bright red. He cleared his throat and hurriedly finished scanning the last few items before forcing another smile.
"That will be €1,556.09." Roughly $1,765 USD. Honestly...that was nothing compared to the money our family had.
Michel reached into his wallet and placed a sleek black platinum card on the counter. The cashier's eyes nearly popped out of his head. His gaze immediately landed on the name embossed across the front.
Adriano Basilio.
Dad once told us this particular black platinum card was one of the most exclusive cards available in Italy. Not all of our money was tied to it, not even close, but it held more than enough for this trip.
The cashier looked from the card... to Michel... then back to the card. "I'm going to need to see some identification," he said cautiously.
Before I could reach for mine, Michel had already pulled out his ID. We both carried the last name Basilio, so it really didn't matter which one of us showed it.
The man studied Michel's ID before looking back up at him suspiciously. Michel smiled politely. "If you have any doubts, I can gladly call my father down here."
He paused just long enough for the man to swallow. "But trust me...you don't want to meet my dad when he's unhappy." The cashier's expression immediately changed.
Without another word, he ran the card, handed Michel back his ID, and completed the transaction. He slid the shopping bags across the counter with a much more respectful attitude than before. "Have a nice day," he muttered.
"You too," Michel replied with a grin. We walked out of the store and onto the busy street. Neither AJ nor Marcio were anywhere in sight. I figured they were still taking care of "business."
Thankfully, AJ had left us the keys to the SUV just in case. We found the vehicle, tossed all four bags into the trunk, locked it back up, and headed toward the shopping strip again. "Bro... I'm starving," Michel groaned as his stomach let out a loud growl.
I pointed toward a little restaurant farther down the street. "Pizza?"
His face lit up instantly. "Now you're speaking my language." Laughing, we crossed the street and followed the mouthwatering smell of fresh pizza drifting through the air.
Gianna Pov~
We left the unconscious man lying on the floor, his face bloodied and bruised beyond recognition.
My blood boiled every time I looked at him. I had never seen this man before in my life... Yet I hated him with every fiber of my being. He had dared to put his hands on my daughter.
Raf stormed away, trying to cool himself down before his anger consumed him. Leo quietly followed after him. Miliana looked at me, silently asking if I was okay. I simply nodded before giving her a look that told her to go check on her son. She understood immediately.
Damien was already on the phone with Adriano. Meanwhile, I held Ales tightly in my arms as she completely broke down. The reality of what had almost happened was finally sinking in. She had almost been kidnapped. I rubbed soothing circles over her back, whispering comforting words into her ear.
Nothing worked. She was hysterical. Every sob that wracked her body shattered my heart into a thousand pieces. She trembled so violently I could barely keep her upright.
Leena and Yana stood at both entrances to the aisle, making sure no one wandered into this section of the store.
Even Callie, Cata, Dantae, Lia, and Isabella stood beside them. My babies. They looked so determined as they guarded their older sister and cousin. None of them wanted anyone else getting close to Alessandra.
I forced myself to stay calm for my daughter.
Inside...I wanted nothing more than to walk over to that man and rip his throat out with my bare hands. He had come after my child. Being married to the Capo di Capi rubbed off on you eventually.
Damien walked over and handed me the phone. "Amore, what's wrong?" Adriano's deep voice came through the speaker. His tone was hard, but underneath it I could hear the worry. The concern. Hearing his voice almost shattered the composure I'd been desperately holding together.
I wanted to cry with my daughter. Instead, I swallowed it down. "I need you to come find us right now," I managed to say, forcing my voice to remain steady. "We have Alessandra's kidnapper."
I heard shouting on the other end of the line before Adriano spoke again. "We're coming to you. Don't move, amore."
"Adriano..." I stopped him before he could hang up. Just hearing his voice gave me strength. I wasn't ready for him to disappear.
"Yes?" he answered immediately, his voice softer now.
"Please... hurry." My voice cracked on the last word.
"I love you, amore." The line went dead. I closed my eyes for a brief second before letting out a shaky breath and handing Damien his phone back.
I wrapped my arms around Alessandra once again. Her tears seemed endless. Looking around, I noticed shoppers slowing down to stare at us.
Curious and nosy. I shot each of them a glare so cold that they immediately looked away and hurried off. Good.
Yana walked over with Lia close behind her. "Can you take her?" I asked quietly. "I need to check on Raf."
Yana nodded. Together, we carefully transferred Alessandra into her arms. Her sobs had finally begun to ease, though she still trembled.
I looked over at Damien. Our eyes met.
Watch them.
He gave the slightest nod. He understood exactly what I meant. I hurried toward the mall entrance and stepped outside.
Almost immediately, I spotted Raf standing near the side of the building. Leo and Miliana were walking away from him, giving him the space he clearly wanted. Raf slammed his fist into the brick wall again with a frustrated growl.
The sound echoed through the alley. The other two stopped beside me. "He doesn't want to talk," Leo said quietly, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
Miliana shifted uneasily, glancing back at her son. "I've never seen him like this," she admitted softly. "He's always the one who finds the bright side... no matter what." Pain flickered across her face.
I gave her a sympathetic smile before nodding toward the mall. "Go back inside. Stay with the others." She hesitated. "I'll talk to him."
Leo sighed. "Good luck."
The two of them headed back inside, though Miliana looked over her shoulder one last time before disappearing through the doors. I turned my attention back to the young man who had just saved my daughter's life.
His fists were pressed against the wall, supporting his weight as his head hung low. His fingers tightened in his hair before falling back to his sides.
He looked...broken.
I walked over to him and gently placed my hand on his bicep. I felt him tense beneath my touch. He didn't pull away. Neither did I, I've always been stubborn. It was a quality I'd carried my entire life, and I wasn't about to change now.