Q .
ALESSIA
I let out a muffled groan, burying my face in my palm. Ever since leaving my house with just an overnight bag containing essentials, I've been unable to meet Giovanni or Vittorio's eyes. The worst part? I'm not even ashamed of my actions, and the thought of wanting more lingers in my mind.
I shoot a glare at Giovanni, who seems annoyingly smug, whistling along to the radio. Despite not reaching his own climax, he's inexplicably cheerful.
"Ugh," I groan again, unable to shake off the memory of almost begging him to continue.
I recall the way he looked at me, calling me beautiful. Who would've thought he had such a way with words, aside from his usual commanding demeanor?
"It's okay, Bella. We all get carried away sometimes," Giovanni offers, sounding annoyingly self-assured, as if he holds all the wisdom in the world.
I shoot him a dry look. "I'm sure that doesn't happen to you," I retort.
He meets my gaze with a heated look, sending a shiver down my spine. "What do you think just happened?" he counters, his tone dripping with suggestion.
Blushing furiously, I glance at Vittorio, who's focused on driving and pretending not to eavesdrop. Then, I deliberately shift my gaze to Giovanni's lap, silently conveying my message.
"Ah, that?" Giovanni chuckled, reclining in his seat with his eyes closed. "You'll only get that when you're in the right state of mind and won't wake up the next morning to tell me it's a mistake."
Arrogant bastard!
I fold my arms, mirroring his posture. Entranced by the smooth motion of the car, I must have drifted off, because the next thing I know, Giovanni is kissing me awake.
"There you are, Bella. We're home," he murmurs, his lips brushing against mine.
Turning away from his intense gaze, I glance out the window. My breath catches as the car passes through a towering gate, surrounded by a high fence.
Inside lies a mansion—a stunning, timeless abode framed by meticulously manicured trees and blooming flowers. It's like something out of a fairytale.
I turn to Giovanni, stunned. "This is where you live?" I ask, genuine surprise coloring my tone. I had always assumed mafia dons lived in nondescript hideouts, constantly on the run from their enemies. Clearly, I was mistaken.
"Welcome to Moretti Mansion, Bella," he says proudly, his smirk evident.
With a home like this, I suppose he's earned the right to be arrogant.
"It's beautiful, Giovanni," I admit, still marveling at the surroundings. The edge of a lush garden catches my eye, and I itch to explore its secrets. Perhaps staying here won't be so bad after all.
Lost in the mansion's beauty, I nearly overlook the armed guards stationed around the perimeter. Vittorio brings the car to a stop, and as he exits, Giovanni's demeanor shifts.
"Armani, reach out to our spies. I want to know if any other dons dispatched an assassin for me," Giovanni commands, his hands tucked casually into his pants. "Geno, I need the identity of the man the cleaners are taking care of."
"Got it, boss," Armani and Geno respond in unison, their voices crisp and obedient.
The two armed, burly men respond promptly before disappearing into the shadows.
"Vittorio, let's double the guards until we know what's going on. Then, reach out to the cops and brief them on the situation. I don't want that death coming back to haunt either me or Alessia," Giovanni commands, opening my door.
He offers me his hand, and this time, I accept without hesitation.
"Come on, Bella, let's get you inside. Lucia's probably waiting for us," he says firmly, leading me through the front door where more armed men stand watch.
I notice Vittorio slipping away toward a side entrance as Giovanni strides in, every bit the master of the manor. Scratch that, he is the lord of this domain.
"Lucia?" He calls out.
Turning away from Giovanni, I take in the mansion's interior and am left breathless.
It's even more stunning inside than out. Magnificent artwork adorns the walls, complemented by lofty ceilings and exquisite lighting. The wallpapers are fresh and vibrant, a stark contrast to the worn and faded ones in my own home.
The furnishings exude class, elegance, and opulence. I can only imagine the fortune it takes to maintain such splendor.
"Stop shouting my name. Who's your guest?" A voice interrupts.
I turn to see the owner of the voice and gasp. With her flawless, pearl-like skin, dark, glossy curls, and long, thick lashes framing captivating blue eyes, she looks ethereal—like a character stepped out of a fairy tale.
For a moment, I feel inadequate standing next to her in my simple t-shirt and trousers, while she's adorned in designer attire. But then, I remind myself that I earn my living honestly—a sentiment I'm not so sure she can claim.
So, I lift my chin and meet her gaze squarely. She tilts her head, assessing me with curiosity.
"Don't be strange, Lucia. Alessia is staying with us for a few days while I handle the matter of our would-be assailant," Giovanni explains, his tone authoritative.
As if Giovanni had mentioned something as mundane as eating ice cream rather than the pressing matter of our safety, Lucia simply nodded.
"Vittorio already briefed me," Lucia replies, her tone cool and assessing. "Can we trust her?"
"I'm not a thief," I interject defensively, feeling a surge of indignation at the implication.
"I didn't say you were," Lucia retorts, fixing me with a scrutinizing gaze, "but you could be a spy or an assassin, and this could all be a ploy to earn our trust."
"Hmm," I mull over the possibility, recognizing the logic behind her suspicion.
"Well, I'm not. I didn't even want to come here in the first place, but your brother insisted," I defend myself.
"I know," Lucia responds in a singsong tone, her eyes glinting with a hint of mischief, "but if you turn out to be one, I won't hesitate to eliminate you."
I recoil in shock, taking a step back until I bump into Giovanni's solid chest.
"Stop trying to frighten Alessia," Giovanni admonishes his sister, his voice firm.
"Don't worry, Bella. You're safe here. Lucia will behave herself," he assures me, his tone reassuring.
"Of course, Mio Fratello. As long as she doesn't have any secrets she's hiding, she'll be perfectly safe," Lucia adds with a sly smile.
"Lucia," Giovanni's voice carries a warning edge, his patience wearing thin.
"We're going to get along, won't we, Alessia?" Lucia's question hangs in the air, loaded with implications, and I know better than to object.
"Yes, we will," I respond, turning to Giovanni and patting his arm in reassurance. "I'm sure you have something to attend to. I'll be fine."
He kisses my forehead and steps back, his demeanor shifting as he turns to leave, one hand casually tucked in his pocket. I watch him go, feeling a mixture of uncertainty and determination swirling inside me.
"Somebody will bring your bag upstairs," he calls back, his voice trailing off as he disappears around the corner.
I couldn't help but wonder what he would do if he ever discovered my deadly secret, if he found out that the assassin today might have been targeting me. How long would it take before he demanded answers? But I refuse to let fear consume me, not after surviving all those years ago, only to truly start living now.
Turning to Giovanni's sister, I muster a polite smile. "So, will you show me to my room, please?"
She smiles back, her expression liked to that of a predator circling its prey. "Of course, dear Alessia. This way."