Page 9 of Marco

Marco's ice-blue eyes spear me as his lips twist into a knowing smirk.

"Buonasera, principessa," he purrs. "I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by to...chat."

My heart hammers. I fight to keep my voice steady. "I'm afraid we're closed for the day. You'll have to come back tomorrow."

Marco tsks, wandering closer. "Come now, we have important business to discuss. Family business."

I clench my fists, standing my ground. The shadows press in, but I will not falter. Not this time. The past will not claim me so easily.

I hold Marco's icy gaze, refusing to be intimidated.

There's a sound of shuffling, and Nonna appears in the doorframe, leaning against it to prop up her spindly frame.

"I don't know what you want, but you need to leave," I say firmly. "We have nothing to discuss."

Marco clicks his tongue. "Such fire. I can see why Dante was so taken with your mother. She had the same… spirit."

I bristle at the mention of my late parents, but bite my tongue. Marco is clearly trying to provoke me.

"Don't speak of my family," I snap. "You know nothing about them."

"Oh, but I do," Marco purrs, stepping closer until I can smell his cologne. I want to call it cloying, but if I'm honest it's intoxicating, intriguing… perfect for him. He glances toward Nonna Giulia and nods. "Your nonna told you all about your family's past, didn't she? About their ties to la costa nostra." His timing is impeccable. My eyes flit around the room. Has he got this place bugged? More likely a coincidence, but I wouldn't put it past him.

I clench my fists. Giulia watches silently, fear and something else in her eyes.

Marco leans in, his breath hot on my ear. "You can't run from this, principessa. It's in your blood."

Rage boils up in me. I glance over at Nonna, and she almost imperceptibly shakes her head, as if she knows what's coming even before I do. Before I can think, I slap Marco hard across the face. The crack echoes in the empty cafe.

"Get out," I hiss through gritted teeth.

Marco's cheek reddens where I struck him. For a moment, his cool façade cracks, fury blazing in his eyes. His jaw twitches. Then, just as quickly, he recovers, smoothing his suit jacket.

"You'll regret that, tesoro," he says softly. "This isn't over."

He turns on his heel and stalks out, flanked by his men. The door slams behind them with an ominous finality.

I let out a shaky breath, my false bravado melting away. My eyes meet Nonna's. What have I gotten myself into? What have I gotten us into?

five

Marco

Isit at my desk, staring at the blank wall as if it holds the answers I seek. But there are no easy solutions here. Only impossible choices between shades of gray.

I've always lived by a code—keep your head down, handle problems in-house, and protect your own. It's how things work in this world. But Alessia Moretti doesn't belong to my world. She's an innocent, even if her family ties run deep in the underground. She didn't even find out until the other day, that much was clear from the way she looked at me in the cafe. And now those ties have put her directly in the crosshairs. With the tension in the city at an all-time high, she's unknowingly become part of a powder keg that's about to explode.

I rub my temples, feeling the onset of a headache. Ever since I learned she's been marked, I haven't been able to get her out of my head. Maybe it's the echo of her laughter from that day at the cafe, so free and full of life. Or the fire in her eyes when we argued over nothing. Here I am, one of the most powerful men in the city, and this little firecracker slapped me right across the face. She refused to shut her cafe down for me. There's a spirit in her that's rare in this weary city. But it's not enough. If I stand by and do nothing, the darkness will swallow her whole.

The timing was incredible. For business reasons, I do need to utilize a space in the same vicinity of her cafe. But to find out her family's debt has been resurrected by a neighboring family in the same week? Almost unbelievable, but sometimes life is mysterious like that.

Is it my problem to solve? No. I owe that girl nothing. But the thought of her warm light being snuffed out by my world makes my gut twist. I don't know what it is about her, but from the moment I met her, I had an insatiable urge to protect her. She doesn't deserve this burden—it's one she never asked for.

I'm surprised by my reaction to her. It's not like we've spent any real time together... for the most part, I've just admired her from afar. But at this rate, if I were to take her on a date, I might be open to burning the world down if she asked me to.

I glance at the photo on my desk, my only reminder of the man who taught me everything. "You would know what to do," I whisper. But he's gone, and the choice falls to me.

With a heavy sigh, I make my decision. Right or wrong, I can't watch her become another casualty, not when I have the power to intervene. I push away from the desk and grab my coat. There are risks, but I will face them.

---