“Thank you, Matteo. Your cooperation will not be forgotten,” offered my father.
Matteo’s lips curved up just a fraction. “You owe me a marker—and for the record, we still want Sal.”
My father clenched his teeth, his lips thinning. “You and me both. I sent men to his house to collect him, and he managed to slip through our fingers. He’s on the run now—it won’t be easy to find him.”
“Sal escaped?” I blurted, a trickle of fear dancing down my spine.
Both men stared at me in surprise.
Sensing their unasked questions, I explained. “Sal was waiting for me at my apartment. I didn’t know I shouldn’t trust him, so I let him in. He started acting weird, talking about the past, then he jumped me and held a cloth with some chemical to my face, making me pass out. He was the one who turned me over to Rico—said he wanted to start a war.”
Matteo dropped his chin in a nod. “We’ll all be on the hunt for him. In the meantime, I’ll be in touch.”
My father held out his hand, and the two shook hands uneasily. When the moment was over, Matteo sped off in his flashy car, and dad ushered me inside.
I spent the next hour being fussed over until I was finally able to escape to my old bedroom. Dad had called Luca to let him know I was home safe. Luca wanted to come by, but I told my dad I didn’t want to see him. I wasn’t ready yet for a number of reasons. My dad assured me he would take care of informing work and keeping Luca at bay. With that settled, I curled up in bed and lost myself in sleep.
I dreamed I was alone somewhere in the arctic north, lost with nothing but the clothes on my back. There was enough light cast from somewhere behind the horizon that I could see the endless white landscape where not even trees dared to grow. I spun around in fear, clueless how I would survive in such harsh conditions.
The biting wind tore at my body, creating blinding pain where numbness had not yet set in. Even breathing was painful, the frozen air like razor blades against my sensitive lungs. How would I ever survive? My hand came to the strap on my backpack, and I knew innately I had a blanket tucked inside the bag, but I couldn’t touch it. Why? The heavy cloth would give me the protection I needed from the brutal outdoors. Why couldn’t I wrap its soft warmth around me?
A particularly violent gust threw me to my hands and knees, the icy ground brutal and unforgiving. Sitting back on my knees, I glanced at my bloody palms, fear allowing the cold to further penetrate my bones.
I would not survive, not like this.
Tears froze against my burning cheeks as I curled into myself and cried. I didn’t want to die. I was so young, how could life end so quickly? There was so much I wanted to see and do, but the cold had sapped every ounce of energy I had—there was none left for survival. All I could do was curl into myself and hope the frozen wilderness took me quickly.
I woke on a gasp, starting to sit up in bed before a bite of pain reminded me of the very real nightmare I’d endured. Lying back down, I reoriented myself to my surroundings. I’d been under my covers, but I could still feel the icy chill from my dream. The moonlight in my room lit the space enough for me to see my father sitting in a chair in the far corner. Had he been watching me sleep?
“Dad?” I asked dazedly, still groggy from the dream.
He rose from his seat and came over to sit next to me on the bed, lifting a hand to smooth my hair back behind my ear. “I’m so sorry, Alessia. I tried so hard to protect you and Sofia—to protect all of us—but it wasn’t enough. I hid us away, kept men posted to guard you, and made sure your work never touched the uglier side of my business.” He paused, his moonlit eyes heavy with remorse. “You expressed your desire to stay out of the life, and I respect that, but sometimes we’re born into our circumstances. The poor don’t want to be poor, and you may not want to be a part of this life, especially after what’s happened, but as my daughter, you will never be completely free unless you started over. It wouldn’t be my preference, but I’ll help you disappear, if that’s what you want. With a new name and a new life, you could live how you see fit.” He glanced down at his hands in an uncharacteristically vulnerable gesture. “Think about it; there’s no rush to decide.” He leaned in and kissed my head, lingering for an achingly sweet moment.
My father hadn’t been so openly affectionate to me since I’d been a child. I wanted to capture the feeling and seal it away so I would have it always.
“You know, you’d have to be blind not to see how much Luca cares for you. Leaving is always an option, but so is staying. With a man like him, I’d feel confident you’d be protected and well cared for. I won’t push any more than that, but please keep an open mind.” He gave me a sad smile and got up to leave.
The red display of the digital clock on my nightstand read eleven at night. I’d slept through the evening, and now that my dad started me thinking, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to go back to sleep anytime soon. He was one-hundred percent right. The only way to truly remove myself from the mafia was to uproot my life and start over somewhere else as a different person. Was that what I wanted? Was I prepared to make that kind of change?
I thought about my sisters and my parents, Giada, and my other family—I may not have been close to all of them, but they were my family. Walking away forever felt like losing a part of myself. All I’d wanted since I was a kid was to help my dad run Triton. I wasn’t sure how much dad’s mafia operations had touched the company, but there was still a legitimate business in place. If I could still run it, wouldn’t that be a satisfying life?
I loved my apartment and the city—I loved my life. Now that Roger was gone, there wasn’t one thing I would want to change, aside from my father’s connections. Maria had said things could be the same, that I could continue my life as it was. Could she have been right? It wouldn’t be exactly the same, but could there be enough similarity that it would still be my life, my choices? What if I threw Luca into that mix? Would being with him make my mafia ties that much stronger? I’d already had a mob boss for a father—would dating a made man be any different?
I noticed someone had placed my phone next to the bedside clock while I’d been asleep. I had three missed messages from Giada and a slew of missed calls and messages from Luca. Most of his were from earlier in the day when Sal had first taken me, but there was one from just an hour ago.
I don’t think I can sleep until I know you’re alright. I’ve never been so scared in my whole life. You’ve changed me, Alessia, and I don’t think I can go back. Please talk to me.
Tears pricked in my eyes, and my chest ached to be near him. Just the thought of Luca comforted me. Before I had a chance to second-guess myself, I texted back. I’m doing okay. Please get some rest.
The conversation bubble immediately popped up as he typed a response. He’d been waiting by his phone to some degree, and I hated to think of him worrying.
Are you in pain?
I’d been avoiding thinking about my wounds as much as was possible when I hurt every time I moved. Since waking up, I’d needed to go to the bathroom but had resisted because I didn’t want to see the damage. Would I be horribly scarred? Would Luca—or any man for that matter—still want me if they saw how I looked now? My face and breasts weren’t damaged, but my stomach, arms, and legs were a crisscross of jagged wounds. At some point, I would have to face the reality of what Rico had done to me, but it could wait. Some, but it’s not too bad.
I wish I had you in my arms—I want to make you feel safe.
You do. I want that too. I miss you. I didn’t want to lead him on when I was still so confused. Yes, I wanted him to hold me and assure me no one would ever hurt me again, but was that what I’d want a week from now when I felt more like myself? I need some time, please understand.
I’m not going anywhere. Sweet dreams, my beautiful girl.
Night, Luca.
No decisions had been made, my body was still mangled, and Sal was still at large, but just a few
texted words from Luca, and peace settled over me. I made a quick trip to the restroom—careful not to look in the mirror or down at my arms and legs—then crawled back into bed and drifted easily back to sleep.
25
Luca
It was two days after Alessia’s ordeal, and I was close to losing my mind. I learned she’d gone back to her apartment but not much else. She had only texted a few words here and there, and I’d tried not to push her, but my patience was wearing thin.
I never claimed to be a good man.
I wasn’t even necessarily the best man for her, but I didn’t care.
She was mine. Period.
I would do whatever it took to make her understand, and that included asking her father for help. I wasn’t normally the type to ask for any sort of help, let alone with a woman, but for her, there wasn’t much I wouldn’t do.
Attempting to be respectful, I set up a time to meet with Enzo at his office. It was a Friday afternoon, but the place was still bustling with activity. When I entered his office, I realized I was already feeling more comfortable around the man.
“Have a seat,” he offered in a formal tone. “What can I do for you?”
“I want to talk to you about Alessia.”
He didn’t look surprised. “I know you’re very interested in her, but you need to accept she may not be cut out for this life.”
“There’s nothing to be cut out for—I’ll protect her,” I argued in return.
“Like you did this week?” His eyes were stone cold, but the rest of his features were impassive.
“I’d do a hell of a lot better than you. At least I didn’t turn a blind eye as my daughter was sexually harassed in an office down the hall.” My temper was flaring, and it wasn’t going to help me win his support, but I’d be damned if he questioned my abilities when he had been just as negligent if not more so.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Her boss, Coleman was his name. He’d been harassing her, making passes at her, even groping her right here at Triton from the day she started working for you.”
Worry lines creased his forehead, and his eyes fell to his desk. “Why didn’t she tell me? Or report him to HR?”
“She said you’d want her to handle it herself, so that’s what she was trying to do, but her methods were ineffective. I caught him forcing himself on her in the bathroom a week ago.”
“Coleman died about a week ago, he was…” His eyes found mine, silent communication passing between us. The tension in his shoulders eased as realization dawned that my devotion to Alessia knew no limits.
I would keep her safe at all costs.
Enzo gave a single nod. “I did the best I could with my girls. This world is a dangerous place, and it’s hard to know how best to protect your children.”
“You kept them uninformed and weak.”
“Be careful how harshly you judge me,” he warned with a bite in his tone. “God willing, someday you will have children of your own, and I think you’ll find the task much more challenging than you could ever imagine.”
“You’re right,” I conceded, lowering my head with a sigh. “I get emotional where she’s concerned—something I’m not used to. I haven’t seen her since before she was taken, and it’s making me rather unbearable. I nearly decapitated one of my best friends when he suggested I needed to get laid. I want your daughter. I know I can make her happy, but I need help making her see that—getting her to accept our way of life and to accept me.”
He stared at me for a long moment, his expression detached. “I appreciate your persistence—it’s an important quality in a young man. I also believe you’ll keep my daughter safe, which is of the utmost importance to me. For those reasons, I’ll see what I can do, but I can’t promise anything. Alessia is her own woman, and she has the freedom to choose who she sees.”
“I understand,” I replied, dizzy with relief. “All I ask is you talk with her.” I stood and reached out my hand, which he accepted with a firm grasp. “Thank you, Mr. Genovese.”
“Call me Enzo. I have a feeling I’ll be seeing a lot more of you.” He glared at me sardonically, and for the first time, I saw a touch of humor in the old man’s eyes. He’d not said it in so many words, but I’d just received Enzo Genovese’s blessing to date his daughter.
26
Alessia
It was amazing how much better I felt just being back in my own apartment. My father’s doctor had tended to me before I left their house, something my parents had insisted on before they’d allow me to leave. The doctor assured me the wounds would heal nicely, leaving minimal scarring, but I would believe it when I saw for myself.
As he removed my bandages, I got a front-row view of just how much damage Rico had done. I had eighteen cuts on the underside of my left forearm alone, almost all perpendicular to my arm. He must have seen his work as a form of art because there were patterns to the lines.
I tried to remind myself I was fortunate he liked to play with his victims—had he gone straight for the kill, I would have been long dead when Matteo had come for me. The few scars that remained would forever be a reminder of just how close I’d come to death.
And a reminder of Sal’s betrayal.
How had a man I’d known all my life offered me up to be sacrificed like so much garbage? Ever since that day, my brain had struggled to grasp how such evil could have hidden among us without detection. All I could surmise was the sheer depths of his depravity enabled him to hide in plain sight. He bore no guilt or doubt about his actions, and that meant he could do whatever it took to protect himself and achieve his goals.
He was a sociopath.
There was no other viable explanation.
Unfortunately, that meant there had been little we could do to protect ourselves. Someone like that is absolute in their ruthlessness. Like a terrorist bent on bombing a building, his blind conviction and depraved lack of empathy made him enormously dangerous.
The most frightening part was how well he hid it. I shuddered to think what else he could have been capable of through the years. It was good his true nature had been revealed, but he was still on the loose. A part of me wouldn’t be able to breathe easily until Sal was caught. I knew what my father would likely do to him once he was captured, and I couldn’t summon an ounce of sympathy—not as long as that wink played over and over in my mind.
Whatever Sal received, he’d brought it on himself.
Giada came over not long after I went home to my apartment. I explained what had happened, and we cried together. She spent the evening with me, watching movies and helping me keep my mind off everything that had happened; but when night fell, and I was all alone, there was no escaping my thoughts and memories. By Saturday, I was sick of thinking.
When my mother texted, asking to come by for a visit, I welcomed the distraction. She rarely came into the city—I could count the number of times she’d been to my apartment on one hand—but considering the events of the week, I wasn’t surprised when she asked to stop by.
Having company over was the perfect excuse to shower. The doctor had told me not to bathe for a couple days to allow the wounds time to close. It had been Tuesday since I’d had a good shower, so by Saturday morning, I felt wretched. As far as I was concerned, the wounds had been given enough time. If I went another day without a shower, I was going to lose my ever-loving mind.
My first step into the warm spray was the delicious feeling of waking up on a Monday morning only to realize it was still Sunday. I kept the normally blazing temperature of my shower down to a comfortable warmth so as not to burn the tender skin. I washed my hair twice, shaved what could be accessed, and simply enjoyed the cleansing feel of the water.
By the time my mom stopped by, I was feeling almost human again. She gave me a gentle hug, careful not to press too hard against my wounds, and made herself comfortable.
“I’m so glad to see you looking so
much better. I’ve been worried sick,” she said as she put her things down on the table.
“I know, Mom, but I needed to get back here to my own space. I feel much better, so hopefully, now you can stop worrying.”
“I brought some deli meat for sandwiches—it’d help to see you eat.”
“I was kidnapped, not starved,” I teased.
“I know, but something about eating says everything will be fine.” She waved her hands in the air in a grand sweeping gesture.
“It’s the Italian way—it’s a miracle we’re not all obese.”
“From your lips to God’s ears,” she said as she crossed herself. “On that note, let’s eat—I’m starved.”
I grabbed plates and condiments while she opened the deli bags and filled the silence with updates on the upcoming graduation party. I listened half-heartedly, part of my brain still stuck on an endless loop of worry about my life.
“Are you even listening?” she chided. I must not have been paying as much attention as I’d thought.
“Sorry, Mom. I’ve been distracted lately thinking about things.”
She set down her sandwich and took a deep breath. “Actually, that’s the other reason I wanted to come by.” She gave me a look that said, please try to understand, and it made my spine stiffen. “Growing up, my father was a soldier in the family. Things were very different then—keeping something like that a secret from your children was nearly impossible. I knew from a young age that my dad was a family man, so when I met your father, his role in the organization never fazed me.”
“Did you ever consider separating yourself from that life?” I asked. Not only was I interested in getting her take, I was fascinated to hear this part of my mother’s history. It was a side to her I’d never known existed.
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