Chapter 6: Broken Trust
(First-Person POV: Alessia)
The night was unnervingly quiet, suffocating in its stillness. As I lay tangled in the silk sheets of my bed, my mind refused to rest. Images of Matteo—his shirt streaked with blood, his face a mask of cold fury—flooded my thoughts. The memory haunted me, vivid and unrelenting, no matter how much I wanted to forget.
I should have been afraid of him. That was the rational response to a man who could command violence with a single look. And yet, fear wasn't what kept me awake. It was something far worse: doubt.
The way he had looked at me in the garden—raw, unguarded—was burned into my memory. It wasn't pity or contempt. It wasn't even anger. It was something far more complicated, and the realization that Matteo De Luca might actually feel something—anything—was unsettling in a way I couldn't quite explain.
The next morning, I lingered in my room longer than usual, letting the minutes slip by as I tried to piece together the fragments of my restless thoughts. Matteo's absence in the house was palpable, his usual commanding presence replaced by an uncomfortable silence. The staff moved about quietly, almost as if they were afraid to disturb the stillness.
By midday, the silence became unbearable. I left my room and wandered the halls, hoping to stumble upon some kind of distraction. Nico, ever the silent sentinel, followed at a respectful distance, his eyes scanning our surroundings as though danger could leap out from behind a gilded vase.
"Doesn't this get boring for you?" I asked, breaking the silence as we walked past the library.
"What?" Nico replied, his tone clipped.
"Following me around. Watching my every move. Do you ever get tired of it?"
His lips twitched, the faintest hint of amusement breaking through his stoic mask. "Do you ever get tired of asking questions you don't really want the answers to?"
I stopped walking, turning to face him fully. "Maybe I do want the answers."
Nico shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's not my job to answer them."
Before I could respond, I heard the faint hum of a conversation coming from the study down the hall. The low, steady cadence of Matteo's voice was unmistakable, and I felt a pang of relief that I couldn't quite justify.
Without thinking, I made my way toward the study, ignoring Nico's low murmur of protest.
When I stepped into the study, Matteo was seated behind his massive oak desk, his focus entirely on the stack of papers in front of him. He didn't look up as I entered, his fingers drumming lightly against the polished wood.
"You're quiet today," I said, leaning casually against the doorframe.
Matteo's lips quirked in the faintest of smiles, though he didn't lift his gaze. "I'm always quiet, Alessia."
"Maybe," I said, stepping further into the room, "but today feels different."
At that, Matteo finally looked up, his dark eyes meeting mine with a sharpness that made the air between us feel heavier. For a moment, he simply studied me, his expression unreadable.
"You've been… distant," I added carefully, trying to gauge his mood. "Everything okay?"
He leaned back in his chair, his gaze drifting toward the window as though he was searching for something in the gray sky beyond. "I'm fine," he said after a long pause. "But not everyone in this world is."
I tilted my head, frowning. "What does that mean?"
Matteo turned his attention back to me, his expression hardening. "It means you need to stop pretending that this life can be anything other than what it is. The De Luca name doesn't bring peace, Alessia. It brings war."
His words hit me like a slap, their weight sinking deep into my chest. "You keep telling me that," I said, my voice quieter now. "But I didn't ask to be part of this war. My father did."
At the mention of my father, Matteo's jaw tightened, his fingers curling into fists on the desk. He was silent for a moment, and when he finally spoke, his voice was colder than I'd ever heard it.
"Your father made a deal. A deal that doesn't just affect him or me—it affects you, too. Whether you like it or not."
I stepped closer to the desk, my frustration boiling over. "So what? I'm supposed to just trust you? Even after everything?"
"Yes." The word was firm, unyielding, spoken without hesitation.
I opened my mouth to argue, but Matteo was already standing, his chair scraping against the floor as he rose to his full height.
"Come with me," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
"Where?"
"You said you wanted to understand," he replied, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair. "So I'm going to show you."
The car ride was tense, the silence between us broken only by the soft hum of the engine. I stared out the window as the city passed by in a blur, the familiar streets gradually giving way to an industrial landscape of warehouses and abandoned lots.
We pulled into a gated compound, the high fences and security cameras a stark reminder that this wasn't just any warehouse. Matteo stepped out of the car first, his movements deliberate, almost predatory.
Nico opened my door, and I hesitated for a moment before stepping out, my pulse quickening as I took in my surroundings.
"What is this place?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Matteo didn't answer immediately. He led me inside the warehouse, his strides confident as though he owned not just the building, but everything inside it.
The air was thick with the smell of oil and metal, and the dim overhead lights cast long, eerie shadows across the cavernous space. Men moved around us, their conversations hushed but tense, their eyes flicking toward Matteo with a mix of respect and fear.
"This," Matteo said finally, turning to face me, "is where the real work happens."
I swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking in. "What kind of work?"
Matteo's lips curled into a faint, humorless smile. "The kind that keeps people in line. The kind that ensures the De Luca name isn't forgotten."
My stomach turned as the implications of his words hit me. "You mean… this is where you hurt people."
Matteo's smile faded, his expression growing colder. "This is where I remind people of their place," he said evenly. "And where I make sure they never forget it."
I stared at him, my heart racing. I had known—on some level—that Matteo's world was dangerous, that he wasn't just some businessman in a fancy suit. But seeing it up close was something else entirely.
"Why are you showing me this?" I asked, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to steady it.
"Because you need to understand," Matteo said, his gaze piercing. "This is the life you've been dragged into, Alessia. The sooner you accept that, the better."
The ride back to the estate was quiet, the weight of what I had seen hanging heavy in the air. Matteo didn't say a word, and I didn't dare break the silence.
When we arrived, I retreated to my room without a word, my mind racing.
I had seen the truth of Matteo's world, and it terrified me.
But what scared me even more was the realization that I might already be too far gone to escape it.