Chapter 6 - The Aftermath and the ConfessionChaos erupted in a matter of seconds. Moretti’s remaining men scrambled, caught completely off guard by Marco’s sniper shot from the landing. But Alessandro’s men were faster, moving with ruthless, choreographed efficiency. Within thirty seconds, the four thugs were disarmed, zip-tied, and dragged out toward the courtyard.
Alessandro didn’t look at the bodies. He turned around instantly, dropping to his knees to pull Luca into a tight, protective embrace.
"It's over, piccolo," Alessandro murmured, pressing kisses into his son's dark hair. "Go with Maria to the east wing. Stay there until I come for you."
Once Luca and the housekeeper were safely escorted away, Alessandro stood up. The relaxed posture was gone; he looked tired, the dark circles under his eyes standing out sharply against his olive skin. He walked slowly toward me, stopping just inches away.
His dark eyes swept over my trembling form, checking me for injuries. "Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice rough and strained.
"No," I whispered, wrapping my arms around myself to stop the shaking. "I'm... I'm not hurt. But I could have been killed, Alessandro! We all could have been!"
"I know," he said softly, stepping closer until his chest brushed against mine. He reached out, his warm, calloused fingers gently cupping my face, wiping away a tear I hadn't realized was tracking down my cheek. "Which is why you shouldn't have been here."
"You're the one who dragged me across an ocean!" I flashed back, a surge of hysterical anger bubbling up through my shock. "You kidnapped me, Alessandro! You brought me into a war zone!"
"Because if I left you in New York, Moretti's men would have used you to gut me from the inside out!" he shouted back, his voice finally breaking, the fierce facade cracking to reveal raw, burning emotion. "Do you think I wanted to drag an innocent woman into my hell? Do you think it was easy walking into that café and looking at you, knowing that the moment I brought you close, I was putting a target on your back?"
I froze, my breath catching in my throat. "What are you saying?"
Alessandro let out a harsh, self-deprecating laugh, dropping his hand from my face and turning away, running a hand through his dark hair.
"I'm saying that from the moment I saw you kneeling beside my son in Central Park, speaking fluent Italian with tears in your eyes, you ruined me," he confessed, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper. "I have spent my entire life building walls, trusting no one, surviving in a world of blood and betrayal. And then you walked in with your faded denim jacket and your fierce, stubborn pride, and I couldn't stop thinking about you."
He turned back around, pinning me with an intensity that stole the remaining air from my lungs.
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"I didn't bring you here just to protect you from my enemies, Sophia," he said, stepping right up to me until I could feel the heat of his body radiating against mine. "I brought you here because I couldn't bear the thought of being on a different continent than you."
Before my brain could process his words, before I could even draw a breath to protest, Alessandro cupped the back of my head, pulled me forward, and crashed his lips down onto mine.
