(Alessio's POV)
I woke up to find the woman from last night gone. In her place, she had left a pillow where her waist had been. How dare she run off as if what happened between us was meaningless? My jaw tightened as I sat up, her absence triggering a strange blend of frustration and longing. I rose from the bed, heading to the wardrobe to grab fresh clothes. After a quick shower, I changed and prepared to confront the day ahead. My eyes flicked back to the bed, lingering on the faint stain on the sheets—a mark of last night’s intensity. The memory rushed back, vivid and unshakable. Who would have thought a woman so breathtakingly beautiful, with an hourglass figure that seemed sculpted by the gods, would still be a virgin? I felt honored—no, privileged—to have been the first man to touch her. Her fragility, her innocence—it was unlike anything I’d experienced before. The night had started like any other. I went to the nightclub to meet with other mafia bosses, as I often did to discuss business. Whiskey and weed kept me company as I scanned the dimly lit club, my mind half-focused on the conversations around me. Then, my gaze was drawn to the entrance, and I saw her. She walked in hesitantly, her posture tense, her face streaked with the remnants of tears. She looked utterly lost, like a woman who had been shattered by betrayal or heartbreak. Her misery was palpable, an invisible weight pressing down on her shoulders. Something about her struck me immediately—she wasn’t Italian. Her features, her demeanor, and the way she carried herself all screamed foreigner. What was she doing in Italy? More importantly, why did she look like she had no idea where she was going or what to do next? I watched her from the shadows, my drink forgotten. She sat down and ordered vodka, downing it like water. Her expression was vacant, but the pain was unmistakable. Watching her drink bottle after bottle, a strange pang of emotion stabbed at my chest. Was it a concern? Anger? I couldn’t tell. But one thing was certain: I didn’t like seeing her like this. My piercing gaze must have caught her attention because she looked at me briefly before quickly turning away. It was as if she were afraid of me—or perhaps afraid of something else entirely. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, as she emptied three bottles of vodka. I wondered if she could handle it and then she stumbled to her feet, clearly drunk, and made her way toward the exit. Was she leaving? I watched her, my fists clenching as she staggered through the crowd. A man approached her, slipping his arm around her waist. The sight ignited a fire inside me. Was it jealousy? Possessiveness? Whatever it was, it was new—and it was uncontrollable. Before I realized it, I was on my feet. I didn’t know what I was going to do; I just knew I couldn’t let this man touch her. When he leaned in to kiss her, she slapped him, and a sense of pride surged through me. But when he raised his hand to hit her back, I intervened. “How dare you?” My voice was low, dangerous. The man froze, his eyes widening as he realized who I was. I am Alessio DeLuca, one of the most feared mafia bosses in Italy. He knew better than to cross me. Stammering an apology, he fled, his cowardice evident. She leaned against me, her head resting on my chest. I could feel her warmth, her vulnerability. For reasons I couldn’t explain, I felt an overwhelming need to protect her. “Where do you live?” I asked her gently. Her words were incoherent, her drunken state rendering her incapable of answering. I made a decision then and there. She couldn’t be left alone in this condition. I took her to a nearby hotel, carrying her up to a room and laying her on the bed as carefully as if she were made of glass. This wasn’t like me. I wasn’t the type to be gentle or considerate, especially not with women. And yet, with her, everything was different. As I sat by the bed, watching her sleep, I found myself mesmerized. Her beauty was ethereal, almost otherworldly. If beauty were a crime, she’d be serving a life sentence. Her heart-shaped lips parted slightly, her breath soft and rhythmic. She was intoxicating, even without trying. I was tempted to touch her, to explore the softness of her skin, but I resisted. She was drunk, vulnerable, and unaware of what was happening. No matter how much she stirred something primal within me, I wouldn’t take advantage of her. As I turned to leave, she grabbed my arm, pulling me back. Her eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, she stared at me, her gaze clear and full of longing. Then, without warning, she kissed me. Her lips were warm and inviting, igniting a fire that spread through my veins. My body reacted instantly, every nerve ending alive with desire. But I stopped her, pulling away even though it took every ounce of self-control I had. She frowned, clearly unhappy. She wanted me—perhaps all of me—but I couldn’t tell if it was her genuine desire or the alcohol speaking. I tried to scare her with my words, warning her that I’d own her body and soul. But she seemed oblivious, determined to have her way. When she reached out to me again, I couldn’t hold back any longer, especially when she ripped my shirt. I took over from there. What happened after that was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. She was mine in every sense of the word, her fragile hands clinging to me as I claimed her completely. A knock on the door snapped me out of my thoughts. “Come in,” I said, my voice sharp. Ivan entered, bowing slightly. He was my right-hand man, someone I trusted, though trust was a rare commodity in my world. “The supplies from Russia have arrived and require your supervision,” he said. Work called, but my mind was elsewhere. As we drove to the warehouse, my thoughts remained fixed on her. I didn’t even know her name, yet she had consumed me completely. “Find out everything about that woman,” I instructed Ivan. He nodded, understanding what I meant. “Okay, boss.” The day passed in a blur of activity as I oversaw the delivery and inventory of the Russian goods. But even as I worked, her face lingered in my mind. Later that evening, Ivan returned with information. “Her name is Lisa Sanders,” he began. “She’s from California. She came to Italy to visit her boyfriend, only to discover he was cheating on her.” That explained the pain in her eyes. Her boyfriend was the source of her heartbreak. The thought made my blood boil. Whoever he was, he would regret it. But first, I needed to find her. “Where is she now?” I asked. “She boarded a flight back to California this morning,” Ivan replied. I clenched my fists, anger coursing through me. She had run away. She was mine, and I wasn’t about to let her go. “Kidnap her and bring her back to Italy,” I ordered, my voice cold and final.(Lisa's POV) "Mummy, will you be fine?" Alessia asked as I cuddled myself with a duvet. Despite how badly I was burning up, I smiled at her. "I'm fine, Alessia" "That's all you keep saying, Mummy, but it's like you're getting worse. Godmother is right—we should go to the hospital before something bad happens to you," Alessia said, her voice strained with tears. I managed to sit up on the bed and beamed at her. "Nothing is going to happen to Mummy. I'm going to be fine," I assured her. Deep down, I knew I didn't need pills or the hospital. All I needed to recover was seeing Alessio's face. Ever since I told him to get married to Chloe, I haven't heard from him. Chloe hasn't called or texted like she used to, so I don't know if they've gone back to Italy together to prepare for their wedding. The thought of Chloe walking down the aisle to wed Alessio gives me sleepless nights, and that's the reason I got sick. Alessio is the pill I need, but sadly, I can't go to him.
(Writer's POV) ITALY, ROME ~ SALVATORE'S TERRITORY Salvatore's face twisted into a frown as he swiped through the pictures his men had taken in California. He had sent his men to California to keep a close watch on Lisa and Alessio, and now he was swiping through pictures of Lisa and Alessio — including Alessia too. "Is this little girl really Lisa's daughter?" he asked, his frown never leaving his face. "Yes, Godfather. We made some inquiries at the hospital where Lisa gave birth, and it happened five years ago — few months she and Alessio parted ways." "So Lisa got pregnant for Alessio?" he asked, his face tightening even more. "It looks like she did, Salvatore. Her name is Alessia. She goes to a preschool." Salvatore glared hard at the picture of Alessia. She was with Lisa. Salvatore's hatred for Lisa grew even more. He hated that Lisa had a child who might link her back to Alessio. Maybe it would've been better if Alessia was a boy. Then he'd have trained him the way he t
(Writer's POV) "Are you sure you don't need anything else?" Isabella asked as her hand strolled through the shelves inside the convenience store. She was on the phone with Lisa, who was currently sick. After she sent Alessio away, it greatly affected her, and she fell sick—really bad. "I don't need anything else, Isa," Lisa replied, her voice feverish. "I think you should go to the hospital. Your sickness is getting bad," Isabella said worriedly. "No, Isa. I'll be fine. I don't need to go to the hospital," she sneezed. "Should I get Alessio for you? Because I think he's the pill you need right now." "Your joke isn't funny, Isabella," she muttered. "I'm being serious, Lisa. You got sick after you chose to push Alessio away just because you don't want to wrong Chloe. You really love Alessio. Can't you just choose your happiness over Chloe's happiness?" Isabella asked. "I can't do that. Chloe saved my life. It's all I can do to repay her. I'm sure I'll be fine. I stayed away fro
(Lisa's POV) "Lisa, wait!" Alessio ran after me. I tried walking away as fast as I could, but his legs were faster than mine, so he grabbed my hand, forcing me to face him. "Why did you run away from me like that?!" he asked loudly. We were inside the company where I work, so the employees were watching me, including Frederick. "Why are you here, Alessio? You should leave," I said, my voice low. "Why should I? I'm here to talk to you," he declared. "We have nothing to talk about, Alessio. You already have a fiancée. Just leave me alone," I begged. I have been trying my best to ignore Chloe the best way I can so I wouldn't be tempted to hurt her, and here was Alessio trying to drag me into temptation. "We have so many things to talk about, Lisa! You can't just walk away after what nearly happened between us!" he said loudly, and my co-workers began murmuring about what he was talking about. I swallowed hard, not happy with the drama Alessio was creating for me. "What happene
(Writer's POV) It’s been a month since Chloe last saw Lisa. She has texted and called her, but Lisa isn't replying to her texts or returning her calls. “I wonder what’s going on? It’s been a month since I last heard from Lisa. I hope she’s okay,” Chloe muttered to herself and tried to call Lisa again, when she received a call from Salvatore. A smile spread across her face before answering the phone. “Hi Godfather. How are you doing?” she asked. “I’m good. How’s California?” “It’s great, like I presumed it would be. It’s really so different from Italy,” she replied. “I’m glad you’re enjoying your stay in California. So how’s Alessio? I’ve been calling him, but he’s been ignoring my calls,” Salvatore said. “Don’t act like you don’t know who Alessio is, Godfather. He always does whatever he wants, and that’s one of the main reasons why I fell in love with him,” she smiled. “He’s really stubborn. I wish I hadn’t trained him to be so. Anyway, how is he? Did you notice any
(Lisa's POV) As I sat on the couch, I kept laying abuse upon abuse on myself. I shouldn't have gotten loose and fallen into Alessio's trap like that. Chloe is a nice woman, and I shouldn't have done that to her. I should have controlled myself despite my feelings for Alessio. But then again, how he kissed me in the toilet replayed in my head. The way he kissed me, and how his hand slipped inside my panties kept replaying in my head, and I became so fucking horny. I wanted his cock inside me as he screwed me hard, however he pleased, and in any position he wanted. "Stop it, Lisa!" I slapped myself hard across the face, and I let out a wince when the slap stung. "Mummy!" Alessia rushed into the living room with Miss Shalya. "Did you both go out?" I asked, my eyes on Miss Shalya, who was smiling at me. "Yes. I ran out of foodstuff and decided to go with Alessia since I picked her up from her preschool," Miss Shalya replied. Miss Shalya is indeed a blessing in my life, a