Page 120 of King of Obsession

I’d insisted on driving back. ‘I know all the potholes and ditches from Moss Vale to home.’

Still, as I gripped the steering wheel, I inhaled quickly, needing reassurance from what was bothering me.

Alessio stared through the windshield, watching the ridge crests burn rose gold in the fading light, his handsome face in profile. The air between us was taut, heavy with unspoken words.

Soon, I couldn’t wait any more.

I pulled the car to the side of the mountain track, the late afternoon radiance filtering through the trees and dapplingthe windowpane.

I turned in my seat to face him, my expression pensive, the weight of implicit thoughts pressing against my lips, a dam ready to burst.

He shifted in his chair, the leather creaking.

‘Alessio,’ trying to make sense of my spiraling thoughts. ‘I need to ask you something -.’

My voice trailed off.

‘Si,’ he rasped, brushing a stray hair on my forehead. ‘What’s on your mind, cara?’

I caught his hand, lacing our fingers together. ‘Alessio, I -’ I paused, gaze dropping to our intertwined hands. ‘You said something at the cafe. That you were the man who brought him down the first time. You also stated his loose lips in prison led to the deaths of your mother and father. What was that all about?’

He sucked his teeth and took a hissed inhale.

With a sigh, he rubbed a hand over his jaw, rugged with stubble.

‘Cleo,’ he began, voice rough with emotion. ‘What I’m about to tell you is not easy to share. But you deserve to know the truth, cara. So here goes. Franco Conti has been on my kill list for many years. It all originated with your grandfather.’

My eyebrow arched. ‘Poppa?’

Alessio nodded. ‘Not sure if you knew, but he was an ex-mafia capo for the Omertà alliance.’

A jolt of shock hit me. ‘What the hell?’

‘It’s true. Your grandfather went by the pseudonym Cesare Michele. His real name was Cosimo Matteo from Napoli. He was about to go to jail for murder when my Poppa, Constantino, helped him escape to Australia, where he changedhis identity and disappeared as best he was able. However, he and Constantino remained friends until my grandfather died. When you were kidnapped by Conti and brought to Naples to have your sham marriage blessed by the pope, that’s when your Poppa called my dad, Stephano, to help. I was sent to rescue you.’

I stared at him, shaking my head. ‘I’d no idea.’

‘It’s an old oath that we were determined to keep.’

I sat silent, eyes fixed on the road ahead, heart racing.

I faced him and touched his arm, still parsing what he’d told me. ‘I thank you for keeping that promise, honey.’

He stuck a tongue in his cheek and growled, ‘So you’re not mad at me?’

‘I might say fuck you, but that’d make me a bitch. You gave me my life back, Alessio, and I appreciate you for it. Please know that. Although using a gun on me this time and telling a white lie about my Nonna was scraping the barrel.’

‘I’m so sorry, mia sola,’ he groaned, raw and ragged, as moisture misted my eyes. ‘Shit strategy, but I wasn’t sure if you’d let me into your world unless -‘

‘Unless you bulldozed your way in! Typical man. Why didn’t you just ask?’

I laughed in between my tears.

He reached a hand and stroked the corner of my temple. ‘I froze. Just like I did when I first rescued you because I had an MS flare and went numb in the hand holding to you.’

‘Is that right?’

‘Si. You ran off, and I strung up Franco. When I’d tied him up, I searched his hotel room. I found weapons, drugs, and all the evidence that he’d kidnapped you and handed him and the proof over to the authorities. He got put away fora few good years. During that time, he somehow learned the Calibrese family was involved in his imprisonment, and he never forgave us for snatching his bride-to-be away and landing him in prison. So he started rumors in jail of how my father, Stephano, conspired against Carlo Abrazzio. The long and short of it, an already paranoid Carlo thought the hearsay was true and bombed my parents’ and uncle’s car, killing them. As head capo of my family, this was shit I couldn’t let fly. Since then, I’ve kept tabs on Franco and you. Waiting for the right moment to strike.’

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