جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 130

Alessia ─ ∘❉∘ ─ The restaurant was one of those quiet, upscale places in Chicago where the waiters moved like ghosts and the silverware made more sounds than humans. I sat across from Allegra and Scott, watching the contrast between them. It was almost comical. Allie looked like an angel, soft, glowing, and currently busy trying to get a stray bit of pasta sauce off her silk sleeve. And then there was Scott. Scott Mancini, the Underboss of New York, sat there looking like he was personally offended by the existence of the salad in front of him. He was wearing a suit that cost a fortune, his beautiful green eyes constantly darting to the door as if he were deciding who he’d have to kill first if things went south. "I’m telling you, Less," Scott said, as he stabbed a crouton with unnecessary violence, "This balsamic reduction tastes like someone sweated into a bottle of vinegar. If I get served this in Manhattan, my chef would be at the bottom of the Hudson before the appetizers

Alessia ─ ∘❉∘ ─ Today was the day. He was coming over to put a date on the calendar, to officially claim the rest of my life. My heart was doing this weird, frantic thudding against my ribs that made it hard to breathe. This is actually happening. For months, I’d been playing a game of hide-and-seek with reality, coming up with every excuse in the book to stall, to delay, to just breathe for one more second as a Capone. But the clock finally ran out. I was out of tricks, out of time, and out of breath. I stood in front of my walk-in closet, my hands trembling so hard I had to clench them into fists. I stared at the rows of clothes for what felt like hours, but nothing looked right. How do you dress for the day? I finally reached for an off-white ribbed sweater and a matching knit skirt. The fabric was soft, but as I pulled it on. I scraped my hair back into a sleek, tight bun, making sure not a single strand was out of place. I did my makeup, kept it light and natural, but I cou

Alessia ─ ∘❉∘ ─ I stood in front of him. Up close, he was even more overwhelming. He looked down at me, his eyes scanning my face, my throat, and the deep plunge of my dress. Slowly, Rino reached out. His fingers warm and slightly rough as they slid against my skin. He didn't just take my hand, he gripped it, his thumb stroking over my knuckles in a way that told me he was never, ever letting go. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited just to see you walk toward me like this,” he murmured, “But even in my wildest prayers, I never imagined you’d be this beautiful.” Heat rushed to my face, my chest tightening until I thought I might cry right there. He smiled then and gently tugged me closer, drawing me to his side at the altar as if it was the most natural thing in the world. The low murmur of Latin faded as the priest lifted his hands, and suddenly the world narrowed to the man standing in front of me. Rino. I swallowed, fingers curling instinctively into his sleeve as i

Rino ─𖤝─ Adriano Capone stepped right in front of me. I felt it before he even opened his mouth, my instincts went tight. Whatever he was about to say was going to cut. “Remo’s plus one,” he said, voice clipped. My eyes moved on their own, already hunting for my son. I spotted Remo across the room. The girl at his side looked small next to him. I didn’t like the way Adriano’s eyes darkened before he answered me. I didn’t like the pause. I didn’t like the satisfaction flickering there. “What about her?” I asked, calm on the outside, even as something ugly twisted in my gut. Adriano’s jaw tightened. He leaned in slightly, “That’s your wife Valeria’s girl.” For a second, my mind didn’t move. As if it hit a wall and stalled. I don’t stall. I don’t hesitate. I decide and I act. That’s how I survived but the mention of Valeria did things to my head. “She fucked you over with her own guard while you were rotting in a cell,” Adriano continued, “She popped a baby out in those years

Alessia ─ ∘❉∘ ─ The bedroom door swung open. And Rino stepped in. The sound hit me first, the heavy thud of it closing behind him, the click of the lock sliding home. I slid off the windowsill and forced my feet onto the floor before my legs could betray me. I stood there, small in silk, facing him. He looked ruined. His eyes were bloodshot, rimmed red like he hadn’t slept or like he’d been staring at something ugly for too long. His hair was a mess, fingers dragged through it hard enough to leave it standing on end. The jacket and tie were gone. His sleeves were rolled up, forearms bare, veins dark and raised like they were carrying something poisonous instead of blood. He was still in his wedding clothes, but nothing about him looked like a groom anymore. He looked like a man who’d just buried bodies. His gaze slid over me slowly. From my bare feet to my knees, over the thin fabric clinging to my hips, up my chest, my throat, and finally my face. His eyes lingered there, he