His words hit her like a physical blow. The truth in them stung, not because they were harsh, but because they reflected a reality she knew all too well. She had chosen this life, a life where threats lurked in every shadow, and safety was an illusion.
She took a deep breath, steadying herself. “You’re right,” she admitted, her voice softer but no less firm. “But that doesn’t mean I appreciate being used as bait.”
Alessandro’s expression softened slightly. “You weren’t bait, Amara. You were my partner in this. I needed someone I could trust, someone who could handle themselves. And you did, brilliantly.”
His words were a strange mix of compliment and justification, and Amara found herself caught between irritation and reluctant acceptance.
“Next time,” she said, her voice firm, “Give me a heads-up.”
Alessandro nodded, “Fine.”
They stood in silence for a moment, the tension between them easing but not entirely gone. The deck was eerily quiet now, the only sound the gentle lapping of the water against the hull.
As they walked back towards the main part of the ship, Amara couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of a much larger conflict. Whoever had sent those men would not stop, and neither could they.
“Do you think this has anything to do with the deal you’re trying to secure with the Italians?” she asked, breaking the silence.
Alessandro nodded. “It’s possible. The stakes are high, and not everyone wants to see us succeed.”
Amara frowned. “So what now?”
“Now,” Alessandro said, “I’ll find out who my enemies are and deal with them. One way or another.”
Amara nodded.
Alessandro walked her to the main part of the cruise ship. “Come, I’ll drop you home,” he said, his voice gentle than usual.
Amara nodded. “Okay.”
They walked to his sleek, black car, the tension from the earlier fight still hanging in the air. Alessandro opened the door for her, and she slipped inside, settling into the plush leather seat. He rounded the car and got in, starting the engine with a low purr. The drive was quiet, both of them lost in their own thoughts.
After half an hour, they arrived in front of Moretti Mansion, its imposing structure illuminated by soft exterior lights. Alessandro pulled up to the entrance and turned off the engine. Amara turned to him, her expression a mix of gratitude and lingering irritation.
“Thanks for the ride,” she said, her voice cool.
Alessandro nodded. “Anytime.”
Amara stepped out of the car, her movements fluid and graceful despite the exhaustion she felt. As she started walking towards the entrance, she heard Alessandro’s door open and close behind her. She turned to face him, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her tone sharp.
“Following you to your door,” Alessandro replied nonchalantly.
Amara crossed her arms, her gaze unwavering. “What for?”
“To send my regards to my father-in-law,” he said with a mischievous glint in his eye.
Amara’s eyes narrowed further, her expression becoming more threatening.
Alessandro chuckled, unfazed by her demeanor. “Alright, my future father-in-law.”
She sighed, exasperated but knowing that resisting would be futile. Alessandro was stubborn, and when he set his mind to something, he rarely backed down. They walked to the grand entrance of the mansion, the guards nodding respectfully as they passed.
Meanwhile, outside, hidden in the shadows, a sleek black car stood parked near the mansion. Inside the car sat a man with a cold, handsome face, dark eyes that gleamed under the car’s interior light, and a powerful presence that seemed to radiate danger. Clad in a perfectly tailored black suit, his expression was one of icy calmness, but as he watched Alessandro follow Amara into the house, his demeanor shifted. A murderous rage filled his eyes, his expression chilling to a deadly degree.
Rowan Falcone’s assistant sat beside him, his mind racing with confusion and panic. He had been following Rowan’s orders without question, but the situation seemed to be spiraling into dangerous territory. First, Rowan had asked him to gather information about a woman at a cafe. Then, he had been instructed to drop her off at her home after a night at the bar. Now, they were parked right outside the Moretti mansion, deep in enemy territory. The assistant’s anxiety grew as he tried to piece together his boss’s motives.
He stole a glance at Rowan, who was staring intently at the mansion, his jaw clenched and eyes burning with an intensity that made the assistant’s blood run cold. The assistant’s thoughts whirled. What is Rowan planning? Why is he so fixated on Amara? The enmity between the Falcone and Moretti families was well-known, and being discovered here would lead to serious consequences.
“Boss,” the assistant ventured cautiously, his voice barely above a whisper, “what are we doing here? If we’re caught-”
Rowan’s gaze snapped to him, and the assistant fell silent, feeling the weight of Rowan’s fury. “Silence,” Rowan commanded, his voice low and dangerous.
Inside the mansion, Amara led Alessandro through the luxurious halls. She could still feel the tension from their earlier encounter, but she was determined to maintain her composure. She glanced at Alessandro, who seemed relaxed and confident, as if he belonged in her home.
In the shadows outside, Rowan continued to watch, his rage simmering just below the surface. He saw the way Alessandro looked at Amara, the way he followed her so closely. It was clear that Alessandro’s presence was more than just a casual visit. A fierce protectiveness surged within Rowan, and he clenched his fists, struggling to maintain control.
“Boss,” the assistant tried again, his nerves fraying under the pressure. “We should go. It’s not safe here.”
Rowan ignored him, his eyes fixed on the door through which Amara and Alessandro had disappeared. His thoughts were a chaotic mix of anger, jealousy, and something else he couldn’t quite identify. He had to find out what was going on.
Inside the Moretti mansion, Alessandro followed Amara to the living room. Her father, Vincent, was watching the news on the large flat-screen TV. He heard their footsteps and turned to see Amara and Alessandro entering together. Seeing them side by side, he felt a small measure of relief and hope. At least Amara is giving him a chance, he thought. That’s good.
“It’s good to see you, Alessandro,” Vincent greeted warmly.
“Hello, Uncle,” Alessandro replied with a respectful nod, extending his hand.
Vincent shook Alessandro’s hand firmly. Just then, a maid appeared at the doorway.
“Sir, dinner is ready,” she announced.
Vincent nodded and looked at both Amara and Alessandro. “Come, come, you are just in time.”
They made their way to the dining room, the air filled with the rich aroma of a home-cooked meal. The table was elegantly set, with fine china and crystal glasses. As they took their seats, the atmosphere remained cordial but charged with an undercurrent of tension. Amara sat between her father and Alessandro, trying to maintain a neutral expression despite the whirlwind of emotions inside her.
Throughout the dinner, Vincent and Alessandro discussed matters related to their mafia dealings. The conversation was a mixture of business and subtle probing, each man trying to gauge the other’s intentions and capabilities.
“I’ve been hearing good things about your operations in the northern territories,” Vincent said, cutting into his steak. “Your expansion is impressive.”
Alessandro nodded, his demeanor confident. “Thank you, Uncle. We’ve been working hard to establish a strong presence there. It’s all about building the right alliances and making strategic moves.”
Vincent smiled, clearly impressed. “And you’ve been doing just that. The Romano name is becoming quite influential.”
Alessandro’s eyes flicked to Amara, then back to Vincent. “I’m glad to hear that. It’s important to have the respect of our peers and the loyalty of our allies.”
Amara listened silently, her mind drifting between the conversation and her own thoughts. The events of the day replayed in her mind-the unexpected attack, the intense fight, and Alessandro’s actions. She glanced at him, noting the way he interacted with her father. There was a certain ease and charm to him, despite the dangerous world they lived in.
The maid moved around the table, refilling their glasses and bringing out dessert-an elegant tiramisu that looked as good as it tasted. Vincent continued to steer the conversation, touching on various aspects of their operations and the ever-present challenges of their world.
“What about the recent troubles with the suppliers?” Vincent asked, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.
Alessandro leaned back in his chair, considering his response. “We’ve managed to stabilize the situation for now. It’s all about showing strength and not giving in to their demands. They need to understand that we won’t be pushed around.”
Vincent nodded approvingly. “That’s the right approach. Never show weakness.”