The Mafia’s heir’s bride
But the asset had started to talk to him.
Not about the Family, or the threats, or the Don's cruel machade.
She spoke of her sketches, the smell of the sea, and the books she loved.
"Do you ever read, Xavier?" she asked one afternoon, curled on the window seat with a tattered copy of a book of poetry.
He kept his gaze fixed on the double doors. "Yes, Ma'am. Technical manuals, Operational reports, Satellite telemetry."
Alessia laughed a bright, warm, entirely unexpected sound that made something inside Xavier's chest hitch.
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