Page 31 of Not Mine to Keep

“You good?” That almost sounded like genuine concern from him. When he removed his Ray-Bans, there were no signs of exhaustion in his eyes. Of course, he’d dozed on and off on the plane, which had oddly frustrated me that he’d been able to sleep upright and so soundly. He’d offered me his bedroom, but the bed had only been good for tossing and turning.

My continued tight grip on the railing was all the answer he needed, and he surprised me by setting a hand over one of mine. I thought he’d planned to unglue my death hold, but he simply stood there, his touch like a quiet offer of support—a take-your-time gesture I hadn’t expected.

“It’s time,” Frankie hollered, but Alessandro didn’t move, continuing to protectively shield anyone from coming close to me.

I looked up at him, the light catching my eyes since I hadn’t had the foresight to bring sunglasses. “We should go.”

He dipped his mouth near my ear. “I won’t let them hurt you.”

I had a feeling the sweet side of this man could destroy my heart as fast as the dark side could destroy me in the bedroom. “Thank you.”

He met my eyes again, a hint of a smile on his face at how easily I’d managed to get the gratitude out, since I’d been a bit more of a brat about it back in Tennessee.

“I’m ready. Let’s go.”Hopefully, I can walk and not collapse.

“Calliope,” Frankie hollered.

“Don’t use that name,” Alessandro warned, his hand leaving mine as he slipped on his shades and faced Frankie. “She doesn’t like it.”

Frankie didn’t challenge him, which was a surprise, and instead he asked, “Are you armed?”

Releasing the railing, I followed Alessandro down the steps, where he gave a handgun to Frankie. The man clearly didn’t trust us, because he motioned to two men to pat us down up against an Escalade.

“You can check me.” Alessandro blocked me yet again when the two guards came over to us. “But you touch her, and you lose the use of both your hands.”

The men looked to Frankie for their cue.

“What do you think Armani will do to you if you feel up his daughter?” Alessandro drilled in another point to prevent the men from groping me in search of a weapon.

“Fine,” Frankie bit out, then Alessandro willingly went up against the Escalade so the two men could check him.

“He’s clear,” one guy said, then opened the back door to the SUV.

“Get inside,Principessa.” I wasn’t a fan of that name from Frankie either, but I kept quiet, not wanting to start trouble at the airport.

Once our bags were in the trunk and Alessandro and I were in the back seats, Frankie joined our SUV, sitting in the passenger seat, then motioned to the driver to get going.

Alessandro gave me a little nod, letting me know he had my back, which he so clearly did, and then I peered out the window, quietly taking in the view as we drove, only the sounds of Italian music over the radio filling the space.

After about an hour of being chauffeured from the airport in Catania, driving past Mount Etna and the beautiful area of Taormina, then through Savoca, whereThe Godfatherhad been filmed, we finally made it to Messina. Messina was in northeast Sicily, only separated from mainland Italy by a strait.

A few months ago, when we made it to the Italian history section of the World History class I taught, I found myself doing a little extra digging about the land, specifically looking into Sicily, given my new connection to the place.

“You know, Messina’s rumored to be the location where Odysseus barely escaped Scylla and Charybdis,” I blurted, unsure why I’d chosen to break the comfortable quiet with a random fact about our current whereabouts.

“The story of Scylla and Charybdis,” Alessandro began, meeting my eyes without giving me a WTF look for my out-of-the-blue remark, “is also about having to choose the lesser of two evils.”

I hadn’t expected him to know that story or to connect the dots as to what I was pretty sure I was suggesting without saying it—marriage to him being the lesser of the two evils in my case. “And it’s also been said that the muse forThe Odysseywas—”

“Calliope,” he finished for me.

I fiddled with my silver ring, keeping my eyes on my lap. “A cruel joke on my mom’s part to name me as such, given where Armani’s from, right?”

“She chose the name hoping you’d have her voice.” Frankie joined in on our private conversation, damn him. “Well, I’ve heard Armani assume Christie wanted you to have a siren’s voice, like Calliope.” He twisted on his seat and looked back at me. “Although Calliope was mythological ... and you’re very much real.” His dark eyes cut over me, and I shifted uncomfortably beneath his gaze.

Alessandro took off his glasses, preparing to use those eyes as weapons to stare down Frankie. He set a hand on the back of Frankie’s seat, demanding the man’s attention. When they began speaking in Italian, it was clear the men were arguing, and it was growing intense and heated.

“How’d you know about the siren?” I reached for Alessandro’s forearm, hoping to redirect his focus so he didn’t find himself in trouble before we even arrived. “And Scylla and Charybdis?”

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