Page 16 of Silent Night With Alessio

It’s already getting dark, snow beginning to fall, soft flakes swirling in the streetlights.

“We’ll need to stay somewhere for the night,” Alessio says, glancing at the road ahead. “The next jeweler’s too far to reach before morning.”

We find a small, dimly lit motel, the only place with rooms available. The clerk hands us a single key, explaining that the only room left is a single with one bed.

I try not to think about it too hard as we head upstairs, but my heart is pounding, and I feel a blush creeping up my cheeks.

The room is uncluttered and modest, though tidy. Alessio shrugs off his coat, and I try not to stare as he unbuttons his shirt, revealing the hard lines of his chest and shoulders.

My mouth goes dry, and I quickly duck into the bathroom to take a shower, needing a moment to collect myself. The warm shower helps to ground my thoughts.

I step out of the bathroom, wrapped in nothing but a towel, and my stomach drops.Dio mio. I didn’t pack any clothes.

For a second, I just stand there by the door, trying to steady myself, my mind racing. Alessio packed some clothes though, and I could ask to borrow something of his just for tonight.

Taking a breath, I step out into the room; the floorboards cool against my bare feet. And there he is…half undressed, with a towel slung over his shoulder, his shirt off, and only his trousers still on, like he’s about to take his turn in the shower. The sight of him…lean, powerful…snags my breath, and I can tell he notices.

Then the unthinkable happens. My foot slips, and the towel slips from my grip, falling to the floor.

I stand there, bare, my pulse loud in my ears. Alessio’s eyes widen, and in that moment, there’s something in his eyes…something deep, almost primal, like he’d tear the world apart for me if he wanted to.

But then he looks away quickly, his voice low, tense. “Clothes are in the bag. Get dressed.”

Heat rushes to my face, embarrassment clawing at me, but part of me can’t shake the thrill, the feeling that lingered in his eyes, if only for that brief, electric instant. He heads to the bathroom, and I find a t-shirt and sweatpants in his bag, slipping them on.

Time passes, and soon we’re both lying in the small single bed, each of us on our side, pretending to be comfortable. But neither of us is asleep; the silence between us feels almost tangible. I’m still gathering my courage to speak when he breaks it first.

“For what it’s worth,” he murmurs. “I don’t think you had anything to do with the missing ring. I believe you.”

Warmth blooms in me, unexpected and overwhelming. “Thank you,” I reply softly.

There’s a pause, but his words make me feel bold, just enough to ask, “Are you always this... quiet?”

He hesitates, then says, “Sometimes. I can be different around different people.”

I pause, then, unable to help myself, ask, “You and Luca…you seem close. Is he someone you’re a little less quiet with?”

A smile ghosts over his face, and he lets out a low chuckle. “Luca is family. They all are. We’ve known each other since we were kids.”

Another silence falls, but now the questions are tumbling out of me. “I don’t mean to pry, but... how did you get involved in this life? I know you’re not a Luciana by blood.”

He’s quiet, and I think maybe I’ve crossed a line. But then he speaks, his voice distant, tinged with something rough.

“They’re my family. I didn’t have one…was just an orphaned kid always getting into trouble. But they took me in. Gave me family, gave me purpose. I may not be a Luciana by blood, but in every other way that matters, I am. I owe a debt to this family, and that’s why I’m here.”

There’s a weight in his voice, a raw sincerity that softens something in me. He’s still the same hard-edged Alessio, but this side of him…loyal, vulnerable…is something new. And, for the first time, I feel like I’m seeing the real man beneath.

“Now,” he says, his voice low and final, “we should get some sleep. Long day tomorrow.”

I drift off a while later, but sleep comes slowly. His presence beside me stirs something restless, something I don’t quite understand yet but can’t ignore.

7

Alessio

Morning breaks quietly throughthe thin curtains of our hotel room, soft light painting faint golden stripes across the floor and climbing over the rumpled bed where she sleeps. Isabella lies curled beneath the sheets, her hair cascading like black ink across the pillow.

Her face, softened in sleep, is calm in a way I’ve rarely seen on anyone before… it’s so peaceful. Her lashes brush her cheekbones, dark against her fair skin, and her lips are slightly parted as she breathes softly, lost somewhere in her dreams.

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