32. Alessandro
ALESSANDRO
I'm in my office when I get a call from security. "Sir, Isabella Vitale is at the gates. We’ve told her to go, but… well, she doesn’t look good.”
My first instinct is to tell him to send her away. The betrayal still burns like acid. But what do they mean, she doesn’t look good?
"Bring her in. Search her first and watch for any sign that it’s an ambush.”
“Yes sir.”
When they escort her into my office, I nearly don't recognize her. She’s a ghost of herself. Her face is gaunt, bruised along one cheekbone. Her once lustrous hair hangs in dirty strands. Her clothes are torn and bloodied. She wobbles when my men release her.
"Jesus Christ.” My heart plummets to my stomach. I did this by sending her to her family. The evidence of their cruelty is written all over her body.
But even as sympathy claws at me, suspicion follows close behind. Is this another trap? A ploy to manipulate me, to get back into my home, my bed, my heart?
"Alessandro.” Her voice is weak, rough, as if her mouth is filled with sand. "You have to listen. My brother—"
"Sit down before you fall down," I interrupt, gesturing to the chair across from my desk. My men hesitate at the door. "Leave us."
They exit, and Isabella sinks into the chair. "My brother plans to attack the estate… three days.”
I study her face, searching for deception. "And why would you betray your family to tell me this? After what you did?"
"I've never betrayed you." Her eyes, once bright and defiant, now dull with exhaustion, meet mine. "Enrico used the whisky incident to somehow get the key.”
“Incident. Eight of my men were poisoned.” I narrow my eyes at her, trying to decide if she’s as hurt as she looks or if this is an elaborate act.
She rubs her temple, leaving behind blood from her fingers. Fucking hell… what did they do to her?
“I’ve been locked up with only scraps and water to live on because I’ve refused to help them. Enrico taunts me with his successes. He showed me a newspaper about another attack… ” She closes her eyes, and for a minute I wonder if she’s fallen asleep or passed out.
She lifts her head with effort, like it weighs a ton. "I escaped because..." Her words begin to slur. "Because I couldn't let them hurt you. And because..."
She sways in the chair, and I'm around the desk in an instant, catching her as she slides toward the floor.
"Isabella?" I cradle her against my chest, feeling how frighteningly thin she's become. "Isabella!"
She looks up at me. Her hand lifts as if to press to my cheek, but then her eyes roll back, and she goes limp in my arms.
"Carlo!" I roar to get the attention of my men outside the door as I fight rising panic. "Get the doctor here now!"
As my men rush to follow orders, I lift Isabella and carry her to my bedroom, laying her gently on the bed where we once made love. My hands hover over her bruised face, afraid to touch and cause more pain.
I've spent weeks convinced of her guilt. But seeing her broken, yet brave enough to escape and warn me, breaks something inside.
Doctor Calendra arrives in twenty minutes. He’s been with the family since I was a kid and is always prepared for any sort of emergency, whether it’s gunshots or knife wounds. I don’t think Isabella has either of those, but she’s definitely been wounded.
“Do whatever you need to do to save her,” I order.
“Of course, Don Dante.” Calendra moves to the bed and begins examining her. “How long has she been out?”
“Twenty-five… thirty minutes. She said they weren’t feeding her. I don’t know where the wounds came from.”
Calendra lifts her shirt, exposing a long gash in her side. Fucking hell. Maybe they did stab her.
“There’s glass,” he says, moving to his bag.
“Glass?”
“Maybe she went through a window. Leave me with her, Don Dante. When I have examined and treated her, I’ll report to you.” He doesn’t look up to see if I follow his directions. He just continues to poke and prod at Isabella.
I decide it’s better if I leave him to his work. I glance at Isabella’s face, pale and gaunt. She escaped to warn me after I’d sent her back to be tortured. I’ve been preparing myself to kill her. What the fuck sort of monster am I?
I retreat to my office. I’m Don Dante, and I need to put the family… the business first.
Adriano finds me as I’m pouring a drink to settle my nerves. "What's going on? Rumor is Isabella showed up half dead."
"She came with information. Says her brother's planning an attack on the estate in three days."
He folds his arms, eyes narrowing. "And you believe her?"
"I don't know what to believe anymore," I admit. Maybe I’m not cut out to be a Don. "But she was locked up. They practically starved her. She risked her life to come here."
"Have you forgotten about the key she stole? The warehouse that was destroyed?"
I've been turning this over in my mind since the moment I saw her condition. “She says Enrico was behind the poisoned whisky… took it then.”
Adriano stares at me. “That means the key was gone longer than—”
“I know what it means!” I don’t need to be reminded of my incompetence.
Adriano's eyes widen. "Fuck. You didn’t consider any other person. You just assumed and sent her back to those assholes?"
"Yes! I fucked up." The admission burns in my gut. "I've been fucking up since the beginning."
I slump into my chair, suddenly exhausted. "Our father would be disgusted. He'd say I'm too weak to be Don. That he should've chosen Luca."
Adriano rolls his eyes. "That's bullshit. If he wanted Luca in charge, he wouldn't have exiled him."
“It doesn’t change that he’d see me as an utter disappointment. We’ve had traitors in our midst. Have been blindsided by the Vitales more than once. He’d never let that—”
“Most of those traitors got access on his watch. And he was fucking blown up by the Bratva. The Bratva you defeated.”
I rub my temples. “I don't know how to separate what I want to believe from what's true. If she's innocent, then I endangered her for nothing."
"Love complicates things," Adriano says with a shrug. "Makes you question yourself, doubt your instincts. But it can also clarify things. Put your life in perspective."
“Not me.”
“It could. Listen, I was confused when I found Eva alive. Wasn’t sure what to think. But once I let go of my fear—”
“Fear?” I arch a brow.
Adriano nods. “Yeah, fear. Fear of being duped. Fear of heartbreak. Once you let that go, the world order snaps into place. I’d burn the world down for Eva and Mirabella.”
“And how did you let go? Because if I’m wrong and they dropped Isabella off looking like shit as part of their plan to kill us—”
“Prepare for both. If Isabella's information is good, we'll be ready. If it's a trap, we'll still be ready." Adriano studies me. “I’ll beef up security around the estate.”
I nod. When he leaves, I lean back in my chair wondering how my life got so fucking complicated.
A knock comes on my door.
“Enter.”
Doctor Calendra enters, his face grave, making my heart stop.
"She's stable, but she's severely dehydrated and malnourished. I’ve put her on an IV. She has a gash from the glass of a broken window that I’ve cleaned and stitched. I’ve cleaned her scrapes.
As far as the baby, I used my portable ultrasound and everything looks okay, but she should really see an obstetrician. ”
“Baby?” The room tilts.
“Yes. She’s stable for now, but at risk. Her body is severely depleted. The next forty-eight hours will be critical for both mother and child."
“Does she know?”
He nods. “She regained consciousness during the exam. Her first concern was the baby.”
She knew but hadn’t told me.
“I’ve given instructions for her care to your house manager. Like I said, you should have an obstetrician see her. Dr. Donetta is someone you can trust.”
“Thank you.”
When Calendra leaves, I go upstairs, entering the bedroom. Isabella lies motionless in our bed, an IV dripping fluids into her arm.
I look at her with new eyes. Our child grows inside her. A child I didn't know existed when I turned my back on her, when I handed her over to the very people who starved and imprisoned her. Who might have killed our baby.
"Christ." I sink into the chair beside the bed. What kind of man am I to have done this? What kind of father will I be?
No wonder she looked so broken when I sent her away. It wasn't just about her innocence or my betrayal. It was about our child.
Was she planning to tell me about the pregnancy?
"Isabella.”
Her eyelids flutter, then open. For a moment, there's confusion, then recognition, then fear.
"Alessandro?" She tries to sit up.
"Don't. The doctor said you need to rest."
She relaxes, but the wariness doesn't leave her eyes. I think back to the moment I met her. The entertaining banter. The immediate attraction. The growing affection. The overwhelming desire to trust her.
I think about all she’s said and done. What she’s risked.
And just like that, clarity comes.
I love this woman. I probably have since the first day.
But she won’t believe me. Why would she?
I should start with an apology. I should beg her forgiveness for my rashness, for sending her back to people who harmed her and our child. Fucking hell, did they know she was pregnant?
A rage grows, but not toward her. Adriano was right. With clarity comes perspective. Right now, Isabella and this baby are my priority. And I’ll burn the fucking world down for them, starting with Enrico and her father.
I realize she hasn’t told me about the baby, so she might think I don’t know.
"The doctor told me about the baby."
Her hand moves instinctively to her stomach. "The baby is okay?"
"For now. But you're both at risk." I swallow hard, wondering what she’d been thinking when she learned she was pregnant. Wondering if she thought I’d be a terrible father. "Were you ever going to tell me?"