Page 9 of Silent Night With Alessio

Then Massimo turns to me, and his next words send an uncomfortable chill down my spine. “You…go get the jeweler.”

I swallow, the words sinking in like stones. I don’t think she had anything to do with this; call it a hunch, call it whatever you want, but I just don’t.

She was respectful, careful with the ring… no way she’s involved in a switch up like this. And now she’s about to get dragged into our mess.

I almost say something, but then I close my mouth again.

Can I really say she’s not involved? On what authority can I say that? Meeting her for a short while a day ago? Our enemies are coming at us from every direction. I can’t say they didn’t get to us through her too.

I give Massimo a curt nod and turn to leave. An uncomfortable feeling lodges itself in my chest. I really hope she’s innocent, because if, by some twist, sheisinvolved… then God help her.

Once Gennaro’s done with Mario, Massimo will make sure she’s next in line. And no one’s getting out of this unscathed until he finds whoever thought they were smart enough to play us.

The drive to Marino Jewelry feels longer than it did last time, weighed down by a tangle of thoughts. Part of me almost wishes I’d just stumble across the real ring, find it lying somewhere, end this whole mess before it starts. But I know better. It’s never that easy, not in this life.

When I step into the shop, the doorbell chimes, announcing me. Isabella’s at her workbench, focused, until she hears the sound and glances up.

I catch a flicker of something in her eyes…recognition, maybe even a hint of excitement. Her hand brushes back over her dark hair, pushing it away from her face, and for a second, those green eyes pull me in, hold me still.

“Mr. Alessio…” she says, her voice gentle, as though she’s about to say something more. But I cut her off, my tone sharp.

“Miss Marino, I need you to come with me. Now.” I avert my gaze, not sure I could keep my expression hostile if I were to look directly at her as I say the words.

There’s a brief pause and I chance a glance at her. The warm welcome in her face flickers, fading into something tense, uncertain.

“Is… is everything okay?” she asks, and I can hear it, the tremor in her voice. Fear. Part of me wants to tell her she’s fine, that everything’s under control, but I can’t do that. Not now.

“Please step out of the shop,” I say, forcing my voice to be stern. “We’re going to the Bellini Lodge. Now.”

She watches me for a moment, like she’s trying to read me, but then she nods. “Can I just lock up?” she murmurs, her tone polite, almost painfully so.

I nod, and watch as she packs up her tools carefully, putting everything back in place. She moves with quiet precision. When she’s done, she follows me to the door, locking up as we step outside.

I lead her to the car, open the passenger door. She slips inside without a word of protest, and for that, I’m grateful. I don’t want to force her; I don’t even know if I could bring myself to.

The drive back to the lounge is tense with a pregnant silence hanging in the air. I keep hoping there’s an answer here, a reason that doesn’t end in her getting hurt.

She finally speaks as I approach the family property, her voice tentative. “Was there something wrong with the ring?”

I keep my eyes fixed on the road, refusing to answer.

Her voice drops, softer now, almost pleading. “Did… did I do something wrong?”

Still, I stay silent, clenching the wheel a little tighter. Because if there’s even the slightest chance she’s involved, this could get ugly fast.

And somehow, I don’t think I want to see her get hurt.

4

Isabella

Isit in thepassenger seat, fingers laced tight in my lap, trying to steady my breathing as Alessio drives us through the dimly lit streets. This wasn’t how I imagined my Christmas going. Not even close.

It was supposed to be a quiet night at the shop, maybe a glass of wine and some late night decorating once I finished up the last orders. Instead, I’m in the car, being driven to the Bellini Lodge with an ache of fear building in my chest.

I steal a glance at Alessio. His face is unreadable, as hard as stone. The way he walked into my shop and ordered me to come with him… he was different. Colder.

And if I’m honest with myself, it scares me. I’ve heard stories about the things the Luciana guys are capable of. About whatthey have done to people that have crossed them. These are not people whose bad side you want to get on.

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