Page 19 of Marco

"I never wanted any of this," I admit quietly.

Her eyes find mine, intent. She doesn't have to ask what I mean.

"As a kid, I just wanted to play football and go fishing with my cousins. Maybe attend a rock concert every now and then." I huff a humorless laugh. "Not exactly Don material."

"So why did you?" she asks gently.

I rub my jaw, buying time. No one's ever asked so plainly before.

"My father chose this path long before I was born. After he was killed, it fell to me to take over the family business." I shrug, as if it were that simple. As if I'd had any real choice.

She studies me for a moment. "Do you ever wonder what might have been?"

The question lands heavily. I try not to dwell on roads not taken, but late at night, I still do.

"Sometimes," I admit. "Mostly, I wonder about the man I might have become."

Without the weight of the mafia on my shoulders, twisting me, hardening me. Without blood on my hands.

Alessia nods slowly, like she understands. Her father's legacy chains her too in its own way.

"It's not too late, you know." Her voice is soft but fierce. "To find that man again."

I want to believe her. That I could still choose who I become, even now. But the darkness runs too deep in me.

Doesn't it?

I'm caught off guard by the intensity in her eyes. Like she can see right through to the core of me.

"I appreciate the thought, but men like me don't get second chances," I say ruefully. "I've made my bed, and the rest of my life feels very mapped out to me."

She tilts her head, a crease forming between her brows. "Why not?"

"Too much blood on my hands." I flex them unconsciously. "Can't outrun the past."

"Maybe not," she says. "But you can still shape the future."

I'm struck by her stubborn faith despite everything she knows about me. The things I've done.

"You have a big heart, Alessia." I give her a small, sad smile. "Don't lose that. Being around men like me can tarnish people like you."

She flushes slightly at the unexpected compliment.

We lapse into a thoughtful silence, both absorbed in our own reflections. The storm rages on outside, but in this room, just for now, there is light.

I don't know what any of this means for us. If this fragile trust can withstand the hurricane force winds waiting just beyond that door.

But in this moment, I feel the first small stirrings of hope.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady the sudden swirl of emotions in my chest. This evening has cracked open something in me, something I've kept locked away for a long time. I'm not sure I'm ready to confront whatever waits on the other side.

Alessia seems to sense my inner turmoil. She reaches over and gently lays her hand on mine. Just that simple touch ignites my skin.

"It's getting late," she says softly. "We should try to get some rest."

I nod, not trusting my voice. As she stands, her fingers trail lightly across my knuckles. Such a small thing, but it shakes me to my core.

She bids me goodnight and I listen to her footsteps fade down the hall. Alone again, I rake my hands through my hair. This woman unravels me in ways I don't fully comprehend.

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