The Crime of Loving

For ten years, it’d brought me comfort. It'd been me and her. With threats looming, I wasn’t about to stop wearing it. Especially here in this home.

“You can never let your guard down, Alessandra.” My grandfather’s scolding voice passed through my mind.

The thought of spending more time on my hair vanished as something inside me shouted to search for Aldo. After I slipped on a pair of designer heels, I did just that.

As soon as I stepped into the corridor, I was greeted with silence.

No guards at my door.

Not one soldier was in the hall.

The silence stretched the further I walked toward the staircase, and with each step I took, the heavier my heart felt.

Not one staff member roamed the main floor.

Where was everyone?

The last time I remembered the house being this empty was the day my mother passed.

My father’s shout was muffled by our thick walls, and my body turned toward the sound.

Aldo.

I had no business following my father’s roars, and yet, I found myself taking a step closer and closer to the mahogany door of his study. His voice was loud and yet indecipherable, but his wrath was clear. The need to retreat back to my room grew, and when I heard the tone from Aldo, I knew it would be best.

I'd done everything to stay off my father’s radar since arriving. Getting caught by his study wasn’t the attention I wanted. Aldo would have to wait.

Frustrated, I took a deep breath and stepped back.

Then, my body froze. My heart pounded, and my eyes shot back to the door as the distinctive sound of metal locked and caught. It was the sound of the slide pulling back as the hammer pushed a bullet into the barrel, ready to be fired. The only thing left was to pull the trigger.

I’ve learned not to react before thinking. To not be led by emotions. To control impulsive behaviors as it was necessary to stay alive in this world.

And yet, I did the opposite.

I flung the door open, and now, I stared at the end of the barrel as the door echoed shut.

I stood still, watching my father’s finger wrap around the trigger as his face morphed into pure ire. A quick look around and the only other gaze I found was Aldo’s troubled and furious eyes.

My father lowered the weapon as he stared at me, repulsed. He took a step forward. I took one back. He drew another, and I stood my ground until his hand gripped my cheeks forcefully pushing my body against the door.

Pain shot through the back of my head, and the hollows of my cheeks burned as his hold tightened. Fear swarmed inside, and I fell back in time. A time of tears and a sense of helplessness.

Petrified, I stared at the human who was a part of me. The man I should look up to and the one who should protect me. But Franco Zanetti was nothing more than a demon I had run away from in my past.

I wasn’t the child who couldn’t meet his eyes. I was the woman who could see him clearly for who he was.

Hurt him.

Hurt him as much as he has hurt you.

My hand slid down my thigh as his thumb and index finger jabbed deeper, nudging my mouth apart. Then, I felt the outline of my dagger, and I was myself again.

It had taken me a second to push back the young and fearful child that screamed for help away. Now that I had, my green eyes looked up at his dark brown.

He saw the change. He felt it.

My strength.

It had been futile and reckless. A reaction that I had chosen based on feelings. I had gained nothing but a brief moment of satisfaction before it all went black.

ALESSANDRA

New York

A thrashingache in my head weakened my senses in a thick cloud. I pushed through it and concealed its hammering pain to prevent slipping back into the peaceful sleep I’d been forced into.

My nose twitched as the stench of alcohol filled my lungs. I opened my eyes and swung my hand over my nose to ease the strong scent. I came in contact with an arm and a cotton ball flew away from the long and calloused fingers. I looked up at the person whose hand I’d stroked.

Aldo’s.

He stood before me, and I lifted my head off the pillow. I’d made it to a sitting position before his hand held my shoulder firmly, keeping me off my feet and in my bed.

I hated him for it, and my heart repelled the touch. I didn’t like hands on me, but my body welcomed the childish gesture as my hasty move caused a hazy rush of unsteadiness.

I pulled away from his touch.

“Look at me,” Aldo ordered.

I did.

“Stay down, Alessandra. You got enough unwanted attention for the day.” His blank expression inched closer, and after a few seconds, he spoke. “I’ll have someone check on you every two hours.” Aldo tried to reach for my shoulder again, but I evaded the contact. He closed his palm instead and turned toward the door.

No.

“Wait, Aldo!”

He didn’t stop as he said, “I’ll be back after you rest.”

“No.” I stood strong and watched his hand pull away from the doorknob. “Now.”

With a clenched jaw, he turned and retreated back into my room until he sat comfortably in the boudoir.

“Fine.”

“I can’t stay here,” I blurted and took a deep breath.

Aldo watched me in silence. The silence grew as he carefully chose his words.

“You’ll be leaving tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” I sighed.

“Massimo will be here first thing in the morning.”

“What?” Shock mingled in my eyes.

With a shrug, Aldo said, “My guess, Massimo found out about Father’s deal.”

“You are keeping something from me.”

“You are a woman.”