Chapter 34

This was new, different.

Hope.

Something she hadn't allowed herself to believe in.

It was smeared all over her emeralds. She'd resisted it this morning, but she wasn't now. Last night in the midst of my torturous mind and inside death's veil, I had broken a seal inside her.

This was not just new or different, it was good.

I replied with a nod and walked away from my men and to the passenger side of my car with her close in tow. Opening the door, I grasped her hand as she slid inside the black leather seat and walked over to my side. A quick glance at my men behind the wheel of the car behind me, I got inside mine and drove away.

"Where to?"

Her attention stayed on the side mirror as the gates closed behind us.

"Colour. It's a shop in one of the main strips of Miami."

I racked my mind through the endless shops on every main strip in Miami but drew a blank. Colour?

"What are you getting there?" I needed a hint.

"Pencils."

It was a terrible hint. She could've ordered pencils online or asked for one. I knew there were a few lurking around the house. Then I remembered her lost in the plane with each stroke she made with a pencil that wasn't common, and I understood. Some things were better to pick in person, to touch, to feel its weight until you found what you were looking for.

Even now, I still didn't know what she had been drawing then. I knew so little about her. If I could ask Nate to look into her past, he would give me everything there was to know, but something kept me from doing so.

Maybe it was curiosity. But really, I wanted to find it on my own and learn everything about her from her own words. It didn't matter either way; I shouldn't care.

I searched Colour in Miami on my phone, found the exact location, and placed my phone back inside my suit jacket. It was near a few restaurants, but I preferred eating at the ones I owned.

"Are you hungry now?"

"Do you mind if we eat brunch instead of breakfast?" she asked instead.

"Not at all."

"Then I'll wait for brunch."

Silence returned, and I was thankful for its peace. It was easier to pay attention to my surroundings. Alessandra may have been oblivious to the threat of taking her outside the home in broad daylight, but I was well aware. While no one would dare make such a bold move in my presence, I wasn't one to let my guard down. I wouldn't pay for such a mistake.

Those born with power often felt untouchable, forgetting the rats that moved in the cracks. I wasn't born with power, I fought my way to it. From the bottom, I'd learned what the streets were capable of and knew firsthand the true criminals who roamed freely in the light.

The game had changed with Alessandra's presence in Miami. She was the weak link; she was the one to take out. Because the easiest way to get to me would be through her.

For a man like me, I would do anything to assure her safety. Her father and grandfather both couldn't protect their own women, their queens, and by doing so, they'd lose respect within their syndicates. After all, could you really call yourself a man if you couldn't protect what was yours?

"Are they following us?"

The light had turned red, and I gazed at her. Her delicate jawline tightened as she focused her attention on the side mirror. I didn't have to see the reflection. She spoke of Dario and Yamal.

"Yes."

"You don't travel with a tail."

It wasn't a question.

"How bad is it, Massimo?" Her eyes snapped to mine, but the traffic light changed so I returned mine to the road.

We were near the shop, but Alessandra couldn't wait for an answer as she pushed.

"How bad?"

"You know the answer."

With her gaze on the mirror, she replied, "I guess I do."

I parked my car but didn't get out. Instead, I watched her. Her hand caressed her thigh. That anxious little tic she frequently fell back on. Alessandra couldn't resist pulling her eyes away from the mirror, and when they left, it was only to see past me. Surely, following Yamal and Dario's back as they walked deeper into the open area to clear the shop and find all exit routes.

"I won't intervene in any measures you place for safety." Alessandra's docile tone tipped me off. I could see bits of vulnerability, but I saw right through it. She wanted something.

"But."

"You need to let me train, Massimo."

"There are many places you can, Alessandra. The grounds are as perfect as they come."

She acted as if I was keeping her from doing laps in the pool. Keeping her from taking a walk, or even a run around the premises. Hell, she could even do core exercises in any room. Why did she want access downstairs so desperately?

"And yet, I know there's a room fully equipped with everything I could possibly need downstairs."

"Along with my men? I don't think so."

"You really believe me a fool to try anything with them, or them to me for that fact?" Her pitch rose, as did my nerves.

This was nonsense.

They weren't ignorant. But was she so blind as to not understand my reasoning?

A dark chuckle escaped.

"What? For once, actually speak to me!"

She was infuriating. Passionate and tempting as her spirit fought me back.

She was distracting.

"It's not just equipment, Alessandra. Quit acting as if you don't know what all happens there."

"What are you afraid of, huh?" Fire burned her poise with frustration as her cheeks turned a deep rose color while she pointed her finger at me.

"What are you afraid of, huh?"

Long gone was the calculating woman I'd grown accustomed to. Instead, she'd been replaced by someone who spoke out of tone and out of turn, unafraid of who she was speaking to.

"That I'm going to leave? Do you think I will cry myself to sleep because of what I see? Of what I hear? That, what exactly?" A thick stream of English spewed from her lips. "I can't leave. I can't cry myself to sleep, and I can't care about what I see or hear. Until you realize we could be stronger for Miami as partners than this." Her hands flung between us. "The easier our lives will be."

Alessandra took a deep breath while mine remained even. Her eyes pooled in nothing more than anger at her outburst, quickly regretting her words. I watched her tuck her hair back with closed eyes, trapping her tears of bitterness.

For once, I was lost. Unsure of what to say or how to react. She'd thrown a curve ball into the game that I wasn't ready for.

I've seen women cry, and while she hadn't shed a tear, this felt different.

Just this time, I allowed myself to speak freely.

"You are right. You can't leave. And while you don't care for what you might see or hear, I do. Because you should care. That's what good people do. That's what people with the same light that shines in your eyes do." Her eyes fluttered open, and any sign of tears was long buried. Instead, her eyes were now soft, frail even as she fought them with her strong stance. "I'm not looking for a partner, Alessandra. But when I promise to keep you safe, I mean from this world too."

"That's where you are wrong." She shook her head. "This is my world, Massimo."

"You're a woman," I said, even when my statement was weak.

"And yet, I know the Mafia just as well as any made-man. You just don't want to see it."

Perhaps.

We stared at one another. Neither backed down. Her eyes hardened, and her mask returned quickly, leaving no emotion behind. I wondered how much she had seen. How much had she heard? How much has she suffered in the hands of her own family to be able to hide it all so fast, so easily. A master of minds and feelings.

The answer was enough. Alessandra Zanetti had been trapped long before I came along.

This was the reason I didn't want to learn about her. The real reason I never asked Nate for a file of her. I didn't want to humanize her. Because the more I did, the more of a threat to me she would be.

"Yamal is waiting outside. We should go." Alessandra placed her sunglasses over her features and faced me.

Our conversation was over, and it felt unsettling to leave it behind. But that was what I did. I couldn't risk saying more. I, too, needed to regain control and step out as if nothing had been said.

I walked out of the car and headed for her door. Alessandra had already opened it, and I gritted my teeth against saying anything. Instead, I took her hand until her body slid into the open air and Miami's heat by my side.

Our walk was quiet and short with Yamal in tow. Dario was waiting inside as we stepped in but quickly left, leaving only us and a young guy behind the counter.

Long surfer-style hair covered half of his face as he paid no attention. It remained in the sketchbook that sat on the counter. An eraser rested near his drawing with droppings sprinkled around his work area and onto the floor.

"Welcome to Colour," he mumbled, with a half-assed wave that showed his lead-stained fingers before he returned back to his sketch.

Soft Indie pop music played in the background. A few plants were scattered around the shop in big pots while rows of materials were neatly placed for sale. Checkered floors spread, mimicking the same white and black colors, throughout the store. It was a quaint little place where the only splashes of color that popped up were the utensils they sold.

Alessandra had relaxed and walked a few feet away from me, comfortably scanning the shelves. The more I followed her trail, the more out of place I felt.

There was so much material. So much paper, they had stacks and columns of it; supposedly, they were all different. From textures, weights, cuts, and don't get me started on the colored pencils.

I begged to differ that red was red, and black was black. You wanted a lighter black? Pick a gray. Not dark enough?

Just press harder.

Alessandra stopped ahead of me, and I tried giving her space, but when she kept playing with the same two pencils, unable to decide between them, I gave up. While each of her hands held one and her fingers twirled them with ease at their tips, I made my way to her. She had been so concentrated with the unmarked wood sticks of lead that I left some space between her back and me.

"Just get them both," I murmured inside the quiet space.

Her palms closed, trapping the pencils in a tight grip.

"You are just ready to leave."

I was.

"It's an easy decision."

"Is it?" Her tone rose, clearly her words meant more.

"You got more to say?"

She exhaled loudly, and I closed the distance, submitting to her sweet cherry scent and faint perfume.

"No," she replied without weakening her grip.

Give an inch, take away more. I looked down over her shoulder to the pencils and lowered to her ear. "Why are they different?"

Her head inclined to my voice, as I'd chosen to speak in Italian, and her shoulders fell from their guarded position.

She couldn't see my smile.