Alessia's hands trembled as she poured the steaming hot espresso into the delicate china cup. She added a dash of sugar, just the way Marco liked it, and handed it to him with a forced smile.
"Thank you, amore," Marco said, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he took a sip. They were in the lavish dining room of his villa, surrounded by opulent furnishings and priceless artwork. The morning sunlight streaming through the windows highlighted the tension between them.
Alessia took a seat beside him, her eyes fixed on the cup in front of her. She couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that had been growing since the previous night's events. The way Marco had dispatched his men to deal with the would-be assassins, the ruthless efficiency with which they had taken care of the problem... it was a stark reminder of the world she was now a part of.
"Marco, can I ask you something?" Alessia ventured, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Anything, my love," Marco replied, setting his cup down.
"What happened last night... will it always be like that?" Alessia's eyes searched his face, seeking reassurance.
Marco's expression turned serious, his jaw clenched. "I will always protect you, Alessia. You are under my care now. But yes, there will be times when... situations arise. My position comes with its risks."
Alessia's stomach twisted into knots. She had known this, of course – she wasn't naive about the mafia's reputation – but hearing Marco confirm it sent a shiver down her spine.
"And what about the people who tried to hurt us?" she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.
Marco's eyes narrowed. "They were likely affiliated with the rival family, the Rossis. They've been trying to undermine my authority for months."
Alessia's eyes widened. "The Rossis? I've heard of them. Aren't they—"
"One of the most powerful families in Italy?" Marco finished for her. "Yes. But don't worry, Alessia. I have taken measures to ensure our safety. You are protected."
The words should have comforted her, but Alessia couldn't shake off the feeling that she was trapped in a world where violence and power struggles lurked around every corner.
Just then, Marco's phone buzzed. He answered with a curt "Sì?" and listened intently before responding in rapid-fire Italian. Alessia watched, fascinated by the transformation from loving fiancé to ruthless mafia leader.
"I have to attend to this," Marco said, rising from his seat. "Stay here, amore. I'll be back soon."
Alessia nodded, feeling a mix of relief and trepidation. She knew she had to adapt to this new reality, but it was proving harder than she had anticipated.
As Marco left the room, Alessia's gaze wandered around the opulent space. The artwork, the furnishings, the very walls seemed to whisper secrets of the mafia's inner workings. She felt like a small boat adrift in a stormy sea, struggling to stay afloat.
The sound of footsteps echoed outside the room, and Alessia's heart skipped a beat. Marco's loyal butler, Giovanni, entered with a discreet knock.
"Signorina(Miss), you have a visitor," Giovanni announced.
Alessia's curiosity piqued, she followed Giovanni to the villa's grand entrance hall. A woman with piercing green eyes and raven-black hair stood waiting, her designer handbag clutched tightly in her manicured fingers.
"Alessia, this is Francesca Rossi," Giovanni introduced.
Alessia's eyes snapped to Francesca's face, her mind racing with connections. Rossi... the rival family Marco had mentioned?
Francesca's smile was icy. "Alessia, darling. I see you're adjusting well to life with Marco. Or should I say, adjusting to life under his thumb?"
Alessia's instincts screamed warning, but she stood tall, refusing to back down. "Francesca, what brings you here?"
"Oh, just a little... courtesy call," Francesca said, her voice dripping with malice. "You see, Alessia, I have a message for Marco. Tell him... tell him I'll be watching."
With that, Francesca turned on her heel and left, leaving Alessia feeling like she'd just been tossed into the lion's den.