Page 10 of Marco

Some debts transcend family ties and codes of conduct. Protecting her is simply the right thing to do. I only hope she will understand why this must be done.

My black sedan glides to a stop outside Alessia's cafe, the tempting smell of espresso and sugar wafting through the open door. I step out into the golden afternoon light, bracing myself. This won't be easy, but it's necessary.

Inside, Alessia stands behind the counter, laughing with a customer, effortlessly beautiful as always. Her wavy dark hair cascades over the top of her apron—bubbly, gentle, just like her. The sound cuts off abruptly when she notices me. Her body tenses, her eyes narrowing.

"We need to talk," I say quietly.

She glances around the busy cafe and nods towards the back area, currently closed to customers, and nods for me to take a seat at a booth. As I follow her back there, a cold weight settles in my gut. Her world is so bright, so warm—and I'm about to taint it with the darkness of mine. But if I don't, her world could be snuffed out in an instant.

One of her employees wordlessly brings each of us a mug of steaming black coffee and discreetly slips away.

She crosses her arms defensively. "What do you want?"

I take a breath. No turning back now. "I know you want nothing to do with the mafia. But your family's past has put you in danger. There are...interested parties."

Her face pales. I continue, "I can offer you protection, make it clear you're off limits."

She looks away, conflicted. My world terrifies her, but she knows the threat is real.

"Why has this only come about now?"

"Things are happening in the city which are causing debts to be... unforgotten, you might say..."

"This isn't a ploy to get me to turn over my cafe to you for a few weeks like you requested?"

I run my fingers through my hair. "No, Alessia. It's not. I really wish it were that simple."

She frowns, and I can almost see the cogs turning in her head as she processes things. Eventually, she lifts her gaze to meet mine. "And how do I avoid being caught up in this?"

"It would mean a marriage in name only. You remain free to live your life." I keep my voice gentle. This is her choice.

"Marriage?!" Her voice cracks and her gaze flits over me. "To you?"

I nod. "Yes. To me."

Silence stretches between us. Finally she meets my eyes again, fear and resignation swirling in hers. "And if I don't?"

"Your life, your grandmother's life... even your customer's lives," I say, nodding toward the cafe's main area, "could be at risk."

Her eyes grow wide. "You're not just saying this?"

"Know one thing about me, Alessia. I am no joker. And the men who have your name as a target do not play games."

Her gaze meets mine, and I can almost feel her subliminally assessing my words, taking them all in. Finally, she speaks. "Tell me what I need to do."

I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. This is the only way to keep her safe.

"It will just be for show," I reiterate. "We continue our lives–separately. But in the eyes of the mafia, you'll be untouchable as my wife."

She flinches at the word 'wife' but nods. "What will this...entail, exactly?" she asks hesitantly. "Living together, pretending to be married..."

"You'll stay in my home for appearances," I say matter-of-factly. "But you'll have your own room, your own privacy. I won't encroach on your life any more than necessary."

I think I see a flash of relief cross her face. She probably expected far worse from a mafia boss.

"And in public, minimal displays of affection should be enough to sell it," I continue. "Nothing that would make you uncomfortable."

She nods slowly, considering. I can see the wheels turning in her mind as she processes it all. This shy cafe manager is handling the upheaval of her life with quiet resilience.

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