Page 2 of Bound to the Enforcer

"You can't." The words hang in the air, stark and cold. Alessio's expression doesn't change, but there's something in the set of his jaw, something in his posture that makes me want to believe him, despite myself. "You're not as strong as your father was. You can't fight this on your own."

I clench my fists. "I don't need your protection. I don't need anyone."

Alessio takes a step closer, his presence overwhelming. "You need someone. Whether you like it or not, I'm here because your father trusted me to keep you safe. That's the only reason I'm here."

The words sting more than they should have. My father's trust. I've always known it was a heavy burden to carry. But now it feels like a chain wrapping around my neck, tightening with every word Alessio speaks.

"My father's dead, Alessio," I say. "Whatever loyalty you owe to him, you don't need to give to me. I am fine on my own."

Truth be told, I'm not fine, not in the slightest. I have this big gaping hole in the middle of my chest. I'm all alone now. My mother, whom I never knew, died during childbirth. She's been nothing but a ghost from the moment I took my first breath. But my sister, Amelia, and my father, they had been… they had been my whole heart, and now my chest is left empty.

But I would never dare utter those words out loud. My pain is a weakness that could easily be exploited if I allowed it.

"You can leave." I glare at him, making sure I send all my fury his way. I run a hand through my thick brown waves and sigh heavily. The fatigue slams into me. The past three days have been nothing short of draining.

Alessio rubs his stubbled jaw and scoffs. He walks over to my window and pulls the lace curtain away to look out into the yard.

"You are a piece of work. I cannot believe that you have the same blood that ran through Alejandro Romano. What a disgrace. Pitiful."

"Pitiful?" The rage pools in my blood like tar.

He turns his head ever so slowly in my direction and levels me with his cool stare. A subtle shiver runs down my spine at the intensity in his eyes.

I'm not afraid of Alessio De Luca. But anyone would be a fool not to be wary of him. They call him the Reaper. Whenever you find your way in his path, you'll surely find death around the corner. It's no wonder my father made him his second. He is dark, deadly, and lethal. The perfect, precise weapon.

I gulp and straighten my back, trying to feign the confidence I currently don't have. "Is that any way to speak to your new boss,soldier?"

"Please, I've seen gerbils far more ferocious than you. You are no mafia boss, sweetheart." He moves away from the window and stalks over to me. His deep chocolate eyes hold me in my spot. "You are nothing more than a prima donna wannabe gangster who is way over her head."

My jaw hits the floor. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me, angel."

My back stiffens. "What did you just call me?"

He ignores my question. "You don't know the first thing about what it takes to run an organization, much less one the size and power of the Romano outfit. Without my help, you will be dead before morning."

I click my tongue on the roof of my mouth. "Bold of you to make such claims, seeing as you failed your last boss. Where is he now? Oh yes, six feet deep in the dirt!"

All the humor and cockiness fade from his gaze. Alessio's jaw tightens. He doesn't respond right away, but I can feel the pressure building.

It's about control, about loyalty, about survival. And in that moment, I realize just how much I hate that I can't escape it.

Before I can speak again, another knock raps on the door.

Domenico. He has been lingering around me like Casper the freaking ghost.

He steps inside without waiting for an invitation, his sharp hazel eyes flicking from me to Alessio and back again.

"Soph, I've been looking for you," Domenico says; his tone is soft, completely unlike the brazen and hard man I have dealt with all my life. "Are you okay?"

This man had never once checked on me before the death of my father. He more or less pretended like I didn't exist. In his mind, women were to be admired and seen, never to be heard. His laws and thinking are archaic, but many within the mafia world believe the same. They are a bunch of backward-thinking Neanderthals.

I don't acknowledge his words. Alessio, who has been standing tall and firm, notices my change in mood.

"I think she's been through enough," Alessio says, the edge sharp.

Domenico smiles, but it's a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. He crosses the room with that unnerving calm, as though nothing could touch him. "That's the problem, isn't it? She's been through too much. And it's only just begun."

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