Chapter 5: The Fortress
Twenty minutes later, she was in the back of Allesio’s Mercedes.
Speeding through the rain-slicked streets toward downtown.
Marco drove in silence. His eyes constantly checking mirrors. Scanning for threats.
She clutched her bag on her lap.
The events of the evening playing on repeat in her mind.
FBI or Donovans? Was Michael telling the truth about an investigation? Or was he working for Allesio’s enemies?
And if he was FBI, what did that mean for Allesio?
For them?
The car pulled into the private underground garage of Allesio’s building. Stopping near a private elevator that required both a key card and fingerprint recognition.
Marco escorted her inside.
Standing like a statue as they ascended to the penthouse level.
The doors opened directly into Allesio’s foyer.
Revealing gleaming marble floors and soft indirect lighting.
And there he was.
Waiting for her.
Still in his business attire despite the late hour.
His expression a careful mask of control, with only the tightness around his eyes betraying his concern.
“Thank you, Marco,” he said, not taking his eyes off her. “Ensure we’re not disturbed.”
The bodyguard nodded and retreated into the elevator.
Leaving them alone.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then Allesio crossed the space between them in four long strides.
His hands coming up to frame her face.
His eyes searching hers.
“Are you hurt?” he asked. Thumbs brushing her cheekbones.
She shook her head.
“No. Just confused. Scared.”
His jaw tightened.
“You’re safe now.”
Safe.
There was that word again.
Safety at the price of freedom.
Protection that came with golden chains.
“What’s happening, Allesio?” She stepped back from his touch. “Who is Michael really working for?”
He studied her for a long moment.
As if deciding how much to tell her.
“Come,” he said finally, gesturing toward the living room with its wall of windows overlooking the city. “You should sit down.”
She followed him into the familiar space.
Noting the glass of whiskey on the side table. The open laptop on the coffee table.
He’d been working when she called.
Now he guided her to the sofa. Sitting close enough that she could feel the heat of him, but not touching.
“Michael Andrews is not who you think he is,” he began, his voice measured. “He never went to Paris. He’s been in federal custody for the past six months. Cooperating with an investigation into the Donovan family.”
Her breath caught.
“He’s really FBI?”
“No.”
Allesio’s eyes were hard.
“He’s a confidential informant. A former associate of the Donovans who got caught moving product across state lines. He made a deal to avoid prison.”
“But why would he come after me? Why claim to be FBI?”
Allesio’s hand found hers.
His fingers warm and steady as they entwined with hers.
“Because the Donovans know about you, tesoro. They know you’re my weakness. And they’re desperate enough to use anyone and anything to get to me.”
His weakness.
The words echoed in her mind.
Confirming what she’d feared all along. That her connection to Allesio had made her a target. Had put her in danger simply by association.
“What will happen to him?” she asked, unable to keep the tremor from her voice.
Allesio’s thumb traced circles on the back of her hand. His touch incongruously gentle given the subject matter.
“He’ll be questioned. Once we confirm his connection to the Donovans, he’ll be discouraged from pursuing this particular avenue.”
“Discouraged.”
She repeated the euphemism.
It hung heavy between them.
“I won’t lie to you, Eleanora. Not anymore.”
His dark eyes held hers.
Unflinching.
“There are aspects of my business that aren’t beautiful. Decisions I make that would disturb you. But everything—everything I do is to protect what’s mine. My family. My territory.”
His hand tightened on hers.
“You.”
The raw honesty in his voice stripped away her defenses.
This was Allesio without the mask. Without the careful control he maintained for the rest of the world.
This was the man only she got to see.
“I was going to leave,” she whispered. The admission spilling from her before she could stop it. “Before Michael showed up, I’d already decided I couldn’t live in your world. Couldn’t handle the surveillance. The control. The constant fear.”
Pain flashed across his features.
Quickly suppressed.
“And now?”
She looked down at their joined hands.
At how small hers looked, enveloped in his.
“Now I don’t know what to think. If Michael was working for your enemies, if they targeted me deliberately—”
She trailed off.
The implications too frightening to voice.
“Then I was right to have you protected,” he finished softly. “Right to be cautious about who gets close to you.”
She couldn’t argue with his logic.
Couldn’t deny that his security measures—the very ones she’d been fleeing—might have saved her from a trap.
The realization was bitter on her tongue.
“What happens now?” she asked, finally meeting his gaze again.
Allesio studied her.
His expression softening.
“Now you stay here. Where I can keep you safe. Where no one can reach you without going through me first.”
“For how long?”
“As long as necessary.”
He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“As long as it takes to eliminate the threat.”
Eliminate.
Another euphemism for violence she didn’t want to contemplate.
“And then what?” she pressed. “Do I go back to my apartment? Back to being followed and watched? Back to wondering if every friend, every acquaintance might have ulterior motives for talking to me?”
A muscle ticked in his jaw.
“What would you have me do, Eleanora? Pretend there’s no danger? Pretend that loving me doesn’t come with consequences?”
Loving me.
He’d never used that word before.
It hung in the air between them.
Changing everything and nothing at the same time.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. Exhaustion suddenly washing over her. “I don’t know what the answer is.”
He must have seen the fatigue in her face.
Because his expression softened.
“It’s late. You should rest. We can continue this discussion tomorrow, when you’ve had time to process everything.”
Rest.
As if sleep were possible with Michael’s fate uncertain. With the revelation that Allesio’s enemies knew about her. With the word *love* echoing in her mind.
But she nodded anyway.
Allowing Allesio to lead her to his bedroom. With its massive bed and silk sheets that felt like water against the skin.
He left her to change into the night clothes she’d hastily packed.
Returning moments later in just his trousers.
Chest bare in the dim light.
“Stay,” she found herself saying as he turned to leave. “Please.”
He hesitated.
Then nodded.
Sliding into bed beside her.
After a moment’s hesitation, she moved into his arms. Resting her head against his chest where she could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
His arms came around her.
Strong and secure.
One hand stroking gently through her hair.
“I will always protect you,” he murmured against the top of her head. “Even from myself, if necessary. Remember that, Eleanora.”
She closed her eyes.
Letting his warmth envelop her.
Letting the familiar scent of his skin ease her racing thoughts.
In that moment, cradled against Allesio Moretti’s chest, she felt safer than she had in days.
And more trapped than ever before.
—
