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A technicality?
Yes.
But it’s one that could cost me my place as the head of the Santoro family. The head of the mafia. Not that I’mworried about losing the power. It’s losing the trust of those around me that bothers me.
The reaction from Angelo and Luca once I told them the truth was enough of a cold shower. At first, they didn’t believe me. I can’t blame them. I never keep secrets from them. One for all, and all for one. Or so they thought until they found out that for the past nineteen years, they believed a lie. I lost their unwavering trust. The one thing that made us unbreakable.
And now I need to answer the question I’ve been avoiding for the past week. Was saving Alessa’s life all those years ago worth it? Or would she have been better off if I had never found her? Because once again she’s got a target on her back, a walking beacon for death that follows her around as long as she’s in Blackwood.
I suppose at least she’s had a good nineteen years of safe life with a nice, loving family. What on earth would make her want to leave that behind? I’ll never know.
But then again, I never understood women. Never had the time or the urge to try. And I never needed to.
Besides fucking, I had nothing to give them. I didn’t want love, didn’t want a relationship. But even if I did, it’s not like I had a choice. Despite my penchant for ruthlessness, I could never make one of my brothers follow through with the marriage contract our father agreed to. It was always going to be me. In a few short months, once she comes of age, Natalia, Nico’s first-born daughter, will walk down the aisle and become my wife, whether either of us wants it or not.
That’s why getting to know women has never been on my agenda. Until Alessa strutted into Blackwood in her high heels, wearing a pencil skirt, and almost see-through blouse, her lips red, making the blood in my veins boil with rage the minute I recognised her.
The anger in me has not simmered down as the days have gone by. I hate her for coming back. I want her and her affinity for messing shit up for me gone. And, at the same time, I have no other choice but to protect her. But it doesn’t mean I have to make it pleasant for her. The to-do list of meaningless tasks I’m going to give her is growing longer and longer as I walk down the empty corridor to the office we now share, my footsteps the only sound keeping me company. Although I can catch glimpses of the main floor, crowded with people too amped up to sleep, it’s like a different world up here. Silent, cold and dim.
The office is dark as I step through the threshold, and it takes my eyes a few seconds to adjust to the lack of artificial light. But once I can see, a smile spreads across my face. Alessa has been busy. Good. The punishment will taste that much sweeter. I can’t wait to see the expression on her face as I make her pay for her bratty mouth and blatant disobedience. My gaze sweeps over the room as I take in the changes she has made—the moved desk, the big green plant right next to it—I suppose she at least kept herself busy and out of trouble. That’s something I should be grateful for, I guess.
Without turning the light on, I walk over to her desk and open her laptop. If she hasn’t changed her password yet, I’m about to make her life a hell of a lot more difficult. There is a rustle next to a window as the laptop screen comes on, bathing me in a bluish glow. Instantly, I freeze, my eyes snapping to where the noise came from. My vision is blotchy from the bright screen, but I can still make out something long and dark lying on the floor. Is this another one of Alessa’s pranks, or am I starting to see things, delusional from the lack of sleep?
With my eyes trained on the dark object, I watch it, waiting for it to move or do something, but it stays still. I canfeel the tension coiling in my body, as with one hand I close the laptop, bathing the room in the dark, and reaching for my gun with the other. Whatever this thing is, it sure could use a few bullet holes in it. I don’t like to be disturbed or startled in my own space, and the best way to teach Alessa to never do this again is to destroy whatever she had planned.
Safety unlocked, I lift the gun up, training it on the object on the floor as my eyesight adjusts to the darkness. There’s a small thrill in my chest—there always is before I pull the trigger. The anticipation of power that I’m about to wield makes the action so much sweeter. My finger wraps around the trigger, pressing against the cool metal as I scan the object with the barrel, trying to decide where best to aim. I increase the pressure on the trigger just as the thing moves, turning around to face me.
“What the fuck, Alessa?” I roar, my gun arm dropping to my side.
She sighs, her eyes slowly opening and taking in the space around us, before landing on the gun in my hand.
“Dante?” She sits up. Her voice is croaky and confused as she tries to comprehend what’s going on.
My hand is shaking as I look down at it. The gun I was holding clutters to the floor.
The gun I nearly used a second ago.
The gun that, had it been fired, could have killed Alessa.
I try and fail to calm my pounding heart as my eyes stay glued to the gun.
“Is everything okay?” she asks, her voice close, but I can’t tear my gaze from the floor. “Dante?” Her warm hand cups my cheek as she lifts my head to face her. We’re both kneeling on the floor. When the fuck did I drop to my knees? I don’t know and I don’t care as Alessa’s green eyes search mine. “What happened?”
“I almost fucking killed you,” I whisper, shame, guilt and something else, something that tastes an awful lot like fear, filling my lungs as I inhale.
“What—Why—?”
I shake my head, clearing my jumbled thoughts. “What are you doing here, Alessa?”
Her thumb strokes my cheek, a soft scraping sound filling the silent room as she just continues to watch me. She’s so close I can smell her flowery scent. I can feel her body heat as the tips of her knees touch mine. My fists clench and unclench, still shaking a little as I try to come to terms with the emotions inside me. The terror is new. I’ve never been this shaken up by the possibility of taking a life. Of doing something irreversible. And I don’t understand why this time I feel so different.
“It’s okay,kizgin,” she mumbles. “You didn’t hurt me. It’s okay.”
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.It’s all I can do as her dark green eyes keep me ensnared while her thumb rhythmically strokes my skin to the cadence of my breaths.
“Kizgin?”
Her eyes twinkle in the dark, and I have to remind myself that I nearly shot her to stop myself from pulling her onto my lap and kissing her just to see if they turn dark when she’s aroused.
