22. Alessandro
ALESSANDRO
I rub my temples, staring at the stack of reports documenting the coordinated attack on our operations. Three simultaneously. Two good soldiers dead. All while I was fucking my new bride in Capri.
"You need sleep," Adriano says from the leather chair across from my desk, his own eyes bloodshot from our twenty-hour work session.
"What I need is to find who's responsible." It has to be Marco Vitale, but I can’t prove it.
I shuffle through another report, the words blurring together. Dawn will break soon, marking our second straight night here.
"Luca thinks you should take a look at Marchini," Adriano says.
"Luca thinks a lot of things." I scan a financial report showing the estimated losses. "I appreciate him and Cristian staying a bit longer, but they’re both not as familiar with the business as they once were.” Luca and Christian stayed until I got home, helped gather intel, but had to leave early this morning… or was it yesterday? I can’t blame them. Luca has his own business to run.
“That doesn’t mean he’s wrong.”
“You think it’s Marco too, though."
Adriano shrugs. “Make more sense, but then again, Marco isn’t that flashy. Plus, it’s too obvious.”
“It’s smart and convenient to hit me while I’m away.”
“Yes, but he wasn’t the only one who knew you were away.”
I scrub my hands over my face. “We should see who else Marco is buddying up to. Perhaps he’s behind it but is trying to keep his fingers clean.”
“We’ll figure it out. But fuck, Alessandro, we’re dead on our feet. We need some sleep.”
I smirk at him. “You just miss your wife.”
“I’d think as a newlywed, you’d miss yours too, or didn’t you consummate—”
“Shut the fuck up. If you want to go to your wife, go.”
Adriano rolls his eyes. He’s the only one who gets away with it. "Eva said Isabella was asking about you.”
I keep my eyes on the papers. "And?"
"And nothing. Just thought you'd want to know."
I grunt noncommittally, but my mind flickers to Isabella.
Three days home, and I've barely seen her. Part of me wants to believe she had nothing to do with this, that the timing is coincidental. Especially since I can’t prove her father was a part of it.
But another part of me reminds me that coincidences don't exist in our world.
"You think she knew?" Adriano asks.
"I don't know." It’s the uncertainty that unsettles me. "Her surprise seemed genuine, but—"
"But Marco Vitale is a snake."
I nod, remembering Father's warnings about letting anyone too close. Especially now, when we're vulnerable. My father was the strongest man I’d ever known, a Don everyone feared but the Bratva proved wasn’t invincible when they successfully killed him. I can’t trust anyone.
Yet I can still feel Isabella's skin against mine. The way she looked at me like maybe we could be more than just a business arrangement. It makes me feel things I can’t name and don’t want to because I fear they’re the very things my father warned me against. Care. Love. Trust.
"If the Vitales are behind this, we'll find out," Adriano says confidently. "And if they are, we’ll deal with them.”
I nod in agreement even as I know it could mean destroying the woman I'm afraid I have feelings for.
I dismiss Adriano, telling him to get some rest.
He rises from his chair to leave but hesitates at the door. "You should talk to her. Whatever happens—"
"I'll handle my wife," I snap, not wanting to discuss my personal life with him.
I’m pretty sure he mutters “pussy” as he leaves, but at least he’s gone.
Alone in my office, I pour myself a drink, not ready to give in to fatigue when I don’t know who attacked my business.
I think back to my meeting with Marco where I confronted him.
"You dare summon me like some common soldier?" Marco's face had been flushed with indignation as he stormed into my office.
I'd remained seated, forcing him to stand before me like a chastised child. "Three of my warehouses were attacked. Two men dead. All within days of our families joining, and I was conveniently out of the country. You understand my concern."
"And you think I'm responsible?" Marco's outrage seemed genuine, but I'd seen better performances.
"I think it's quite the coincidence."
He'd slammed his hand on my desk. “Don’t you fucking blame me for your incompetence. It’s not my fault you can’t keep your house in order. Perhaps if you weren’t off fucking my daughter—"
I'd been on my feet with my hand around his throat so fast, he never saw it coming. “You disrespect my wife again, and it will be the last words from your mouth.”
Adriano remained quiet, careful not to thwart my power, but I could feel concern radiating off him. Especially when Marco’s son pulled his weapon.
Marco had waved him down as he jerked from my grip. “It seems you’ve fallen for my daughter’s charm.”
“I respected her while she was yours.” Which wasn’t completely true if I counted fucking her before marriage as an act of disrespect. “Now you’ll respect her while she’s mine. She’s a Dante, and if you have any doubts about her loyalty to me over you—”
“Now, now, Alessandro. I have no interest in my daughter.” Marco’s eyes narrowed as if he was assessing me. “You have bigger concerns. The Dante empire is crumbling. Your father would be ashamed."
“Get the fuck out."
"This alliance was meant to strengthen both our families," he'd said, straightening his collar. "But your incompetence has cost us both. Fix this mess, or I'll reconsider our arrangement."
"Is that a threat?"
"It's a reality check. You need me more than I need you."
The memory makes my blood boil all over again because he’s not entirely wrong. I down my whiskey.
My instincts scream that Marco is behind the attacks. It's too convenient. The warehouses hit were the ones with the fewest Vitale connections. The timing, right after I married his daughter, when I'd be distracted. It reeks of his manipulation.
But I have no proof. Nothing concrete to justify retaliation. And with our operations already weakened, I can't risk an all-out war with the Vitales unless I'm certain.
My father would have known exactly what to do. But I'm not my father, a fact everyone seems eager to remind me of lately.
I should have been smarter. Stronger. Should have anticipated this instead of letting myself get distracted by Isabella's beauty, her wit, her body...
Fuck.
The worst part is that I still can't figure out whether she's part of it. When I look into her eyes, I want to believe she's innocent. Why the fuck do I care about that so much? Never before have I cared what anyone thought except for my father. Maybe Adriano.
I pour another drink, this one larger than the first. For now, I need to let Marco think he has the upper hand. I need to rebuild what was lost while watching for his next move. I need to determine whether the woman sleeping in my bed will lead me to ruin.
I stare at the latest reports until the numbers blur together and Antonio, one of my underbosses, enters with coffee and a bag of donuts.
“Have you slept at all, Boss?”
“No. Have you any news?” I take the coffee, wondering how long before I get an ulcer from living on booze, black coffee, and donuts.
“Well, we’ve secured the remaining warehouses and moved product through alternative channels.”
“Good.”
“Leo has been burning the midnight oil going over the security footage. Nothing to link the Vitales, but we did pick up two low levels from the Marchini family.”
Like Luca thought. “Any chance Marchini is working with Vitale?”
He shrugs. “Maybe. Seems unlikely, unless the son is. That fucker is getting fuller and fuller of himself.”
Enrico. I’d like to wipe him from the earth along with Marco.
“Any concerns from the men?”
Antonio shakes his head. “Everyone wants to find these fuckers as bad as you.”
I might not be as strong as my father once was, but I’ve rid my house of spies and now have a crew that works hard without complaint, without faltering.
These men have stood by me through my father's death, through the war with the Bratva, and now through this latest attack. They've pledged their lives to the Dante name. To me.
I owe them a show of gratitude.
“Let captains and their lieutenants know I’m having a gathering tonight. Nothing formal. Food and drink. My thank you for a job well done.”
Antonio raises an eyebrow. "Tonight, Boss?"
"Tonight. These men have earned it.”
“Thank you, sir. I’ll let them know.”
When he leaves, I call Isabella. I haven’t seen or spoken to her in days. She probably thinks I’m avoiding her.
“Hello?” she says tentatively when she picks up.
"I need your help," I say without preamble and then wince at not saying hello or asking how she is.
"With what?"
I explain about the gathering. "These men have been loyal. I want to show my appreciation."
"Of course," she says, sounding more like a dutiful wife than a woman eager to please her husband and his men. "I'll handle everything."
"Thank you."
She’s quiet for a moment. “You sound tired.”
“I wouldn’t mind some shuteye.”
“Will you be able to get some soon?” For the first time since she answered, I hear the concern in her voice.
“Maybe tonight.”
“So you’ll be sleeping in your own bed?”
My mind immediately conjures an image of her in my bed. “If all goes well.” It occurs to me that if I put Marco and Isabella together, they might do or say something to reveal their involvement in the attack.
“I’m going to invite your family.”
"Why?" I can’t decide whether she’s surprised or worried.
"To extend an olive branch," I lie. “Get us back on track.”
“I’ll make the arrangements.”
When I complete the call with her, I call Marco. He’s surprised and suspicious, but I tell him that it would be wise for us to show a united front.
“Smart idea, but I can’t tonight. Prior commitments."
"Cancel them."
"That won't be possible. But I appreciate the invitation." His tone suggests the opposite.