Page 12 of Marco

Alessia turns away, her arms wrapped around her curvy frame. She gazes out the nearby window, watching people pass by in the sunlit street. Blissfully unaware of the shadows looming over her.

Over us both now.

I know this charade is the only way to protect her, but doubts gnaw at me. She doesn't belong in my world. Kindness like hers is a liability among the mafia's cold brutality. But then again, she does have deep mafia roots, even though she only learned about them very recently.

Can I really keep her safe? Or am I simply painting a target on her back?

I stare down at the dark liquid swirling in my cup, trying to ignore the weight pressing down on my shoulders. This isn't how I want things to go. Alessia deserves so much more than being dragged into the mire of the mafia underworld. Especially by a man like me, with blood staining his hands. But regardless of my involvement, by sheer chance she seems to be on the precipice of being dragged in anyway. Maybe it's her destiny, with or without me.

"Marco?"

Her soft voice draws me out of my thoughts. I meet her gaze, those warm brown eyes searching my face.

"It's not your fault, you know. You didn't create this...situation."

I huff out a humorless laugh. "Does it matter whose fault it is? You're still stuck with me now."

She tilts her head, a crease forming between her brows. "Why are you doing this? Helping me, I mean."

I look away, staring into my coffee again. How can I begin to explain the tangled mess of duty, guilt, and maybe even a shred of decency that drove me here?

"Let's just say I owe your family a debt from back in the day. Consider us square after this."

"A debt?" she presses. "What kind of debt?"

My jaw tightens, old memories threatening to surface. "It was a long time ago. Back when your father and I were..."

Young. Foolish. Still clinging to our ideals. Before this life hardened us both.

I shake my head sharply. "It doesn't matter now. Point is, I have a responsibility to keep you safe. Whatever it takes."

She falls silent, digesting my words. In the background, the clink of dishes and murmur of patrons carry on, oblivious to the dark bargain being struck.

Finally, Alessia speaks again, her voice soft but steady. "Okay, Marco. I'll trust you on this."

Hearing my name come out of her mouth does things to me. My cock twitches. But now's not the time. I meet her gaze, seeing the fear lingering there but also the quiet determination. She'll face whatever comes with her head held high.

I give a single nod, hoping I can be worthy of her trust.

"Okay then," she nods back. "What happens now?."

I try to keep my expression neutral despite the gravity of what we're discussing.

"I'll make the arrangements. We can finalize the details once you've had some time."

She bites her lip, looking down. I can tell she still isn't fully convinced this is the right path. Not that I can blame her.

Alessia takes a deep breath before facing me again, a forced smile on her lips. "Well, I guess we're engaged then... congratulations?"

Her voice holds a tremor she can't quite disguise. My gut twists, hating that I'm the one to put that fear in her eyes.

"It's just pretend," I say gruffly. "Don't worry, I'll make sure you stay out of the line of fire. It's much easier for me to do that if you're my wife."

She nods, blinking hard. "I know. Thank you, Marco." The words are stilted, like she has to force them out. "I appreciate you...trying to help."

I sigh, shoving my hands in my pockets. "I wish it hadn't come to this. You deserve better."

She gives a sad little laugh. "We play the hand we're dealt. I'll be okay."

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