Chapter 79

I heard the loud crashes from above as the storm continued outside of this home, and as the skies rumbled and the earth shook from thunder, bolts coursed inside the quiet bathroom with electric awareness.

My hands found the shaving mousse, and I picked the brush inside. I peered up into his eyes, and they didn't stop me as I touched his skin with the soft bristles to coat under his jaw and neck. I placed the jar back in its spot and tipped his head from side to side, examining the line to clean against his trimmed beard. I did it all under his sharp gaze, and when my fingertips touched the familiar cool metal of a blade, I grasped its natural feel against my palm and faced him.

Our eyes locked, and a nervous flutter pricked my fingers.

The chime of rain harshly hitting the windows was loud and my breathing mimicked its blast as I raised the blade to his neck.

Massimo's jaw tightened, and with a slight tug, he inched away.

"I just don't trust a Zanetti with one," he had said more than once, and yet here I was, with a blade inches away from his neck. Inches away from the vein that popped as blood ran through his body.

My hand slipped to the back of his head until my finger clutched his short hair, bringing him closer and pulling his head back. Massimo fought with how far he would allow his neck to be exposed, but his eyes blared in fire as they looked down on me, and when I brought the blade closer, he craned his head further and closed his eyes as the knife connected to his skin.

The blade slid effortlessly against the pressure of my fingertips, and it swiped clean without a drop of blood or a mark left behind.

Maybe now he could trust one Zanetti with a blade. Because I have mastered the art and precision of wielding one, and he wouldn't be harmed by my hands.

Massimo was afraid of me drawing conclusions, fabricating feelings and ideas that would never be there. But did he not see what he'd just done? What his actions solidified while his mind said otherwise?

Massimo trusted me. He just couldn't see it.

I kept my heart at bay along with the smile I struggled to hide, and I rinsed the blade in the sink only to return to him and continue to shave his taunting flesh.

"My father will push you," I murmured while concentrating on my task.

"I know."

"And Dante will provoke."

"Mh-hm," he replied as I slid the blade again.

"Don't react, okay?"

Massimo chuckled. "Alessandra, I hardly speak when I have to, let alone react to games."

This was true, butI stopped cleaning the blade and glimpsed up.

Both of his hands grabbed my hips, pulling me closer and his head lowered.

"The only one who tests and causes a reaction out of me is you."

"I mean it," I pressed.

"So do I." His thumb ran against the crease of my bikini line and slid underneath the edge of his shirt to feel my bare skin. "Now, finish. I must leave soon."

With a nod and satisfied with his answer, I drew the knife back to finish what I'd started.

Massimo was right. He was a man of a few words, and I pushed and continued to push until I could get him to react. To know and see some emotion in him, even though it often pained me.

I let my worry free from my chest and savored the last minutes of calm before chaos erupted, giving the tropical storm a match of its own. Because I knew our family feud wasn't over, and our bad blood was too thick to ease years of hate.

The house moved at high speed with the number of people roaming around. From a few extra helping hands in the kitchen to men walking around from one end of the property to the other. There were too many bodies and yet, after Vadim picked up Vine and Wix to stay over with him and Davina while we had visitors, the house felt too vacant without their large paws and growls following my wake.

I watched the news for an updated weather report. It was the second day that rain poured and thunder roared, and while the news promised a short time of clear skies tomorrow, an outside wedding was a risk.

"Oh, Ms. Alessandra!"

I muted the screen inside the one room that housed the large television and turned to Mrs. Carmine. A pile of folded sheets rested on her arms, and her breathing was labored as she stopped by the entry arch of the second living room.

Seeing her stress-ridden eyes, I asked, "Do you need help?"

She shook her head. "Oh, no. I have it, darling, but there are a few centerpieces that arrived if you would like to look at them."

"I would love that, thank you," I replied politely, making a mental note to do so.

"I actually wanted to touch base with you." Mrs. Carmine stopped talking as she glanced to her right. I too moved my attention, and Massimo appeared with his eyes drawn to his phone before they snapped to face her as he entered the room.

"Afternoon." Massimo tipped his head toward her then his gaze found mine.

It was impossible to overlook how I followed his footfalls or the pull of the dark, condemning aura he brought along. How I stood eager to see him walking toward me in this part of the home he rarely explored just to find me. How this morning I withered in pleasure in his bed, only to get fucked all over against the countertop after holding a knife to his neck.

I wanted to pull his black tie free from his charcoal wool vest and free the first button on his white shirt to stare and trace the ink lines of his skin with my fingertips. Because today we'd agreed on peace and tomorrow, I could worry again about my heart.

For a moment, his eyes held mine captive as heat flooded his browns. Then his eyes fell to the curves of my body that was wrapped in a silk champagne-colored dress.

"I apologize for interrupting," he expressed, and his mouth parted to continue, but he abruptly stopped.

I followed the cause as his eyes veered to the silent news screen.

The search for justice continues for the deaths

The red banner across the bottom of the screen read, and I noticed the tension in his shoulders. I switched the TV off, and he snapped out of his mind. Massimo turned back toward me, taking a deep breath.

"You are not, sir. Will you join Ms. Alessandra for lunch?" Mrs. Carmine was oblivious to the news coverage and the change in Massimo's demeanor.

"I can't, I was just stopping by briefly." Massimo took the last two steps until his hand pressed against my lower back.

"I'll leave you both alone." She politely smiled. "I can speak to Ms. Alessandra about the possibility of moving the wedding inside due to the weather another time."

Massimo's fingers twitched, and he glanced down.

"You want an outside wedding, correct?" he asked, and I nodded. "The wedding will be outside, Mrs. Carmine, and we can push it until the sky is clear if needed. If not, I'll assure the church is ready."

"Of course." She grinned sheepishly and left.

"Stop smiling," Massimo said with a knowing look, and the hint of humor adorned his lips.

"I must say, I'm growing inclined to this so-called peace day." I chuckled at his ruffled features, and added with sincerity, "Thank you."

I turned to him, and his hand moved along the base of my back. I picked an imaginary piece of lint off his tie, and his eyes fell.

"I didn't want to call, and I needed to pick up some documents I left behind this morning so"

"Yeah."

I pulled back from his clean and peculiar smell of sand, wool, and whiskey breeze to stare at him. His eyes appeared at ease, but the longer I kept them from leaving mine, I saw their violence and bloodthirst.

"Massimo?" I pushed, and my palm touched his chest as my fingers spread around his warmth.

Massimo's eyes fell to my hand, and he looked away.

"Your family will arrive shortly after four, and dinner will be served at five thirty," he explained in monotone. "I should be back before anyone arrives."

"Is that all?" I pressed again, and a twitch of his lips gave a small, grim smile away.

"What else would there be?" He dropped his hand from my back and tucked a loose strand of my hair to the side. "I must go. Stay inside, alright? The weather is rough."

The weatherright.

"If that's the case, stay in."

His eyes narrowed, and his throat rasped a chuckle.

"I'm not afraid of the rain, Alessandra."

A pressure weighed deeply in my chest, and I needed the assurance of his words to carry some away before he walked out of the door.

"We are still talking about the weather, right?"

A devilish grin answered we were not.

"Don't change. That color is striking on you." Massimo was already pulling away.

"Wait." I trapped his wrist. "Be safe."

Massimo didn't look back, he didn't nod or acknowledge my words. As if he couldn't face them or the care behind his wellbeing.

Regardless, the words flew free, and the sentiment for his safety was evident.

MASSIMO

Time had run out, and every minute passing by was borrowed.

California was in chaos after Giuliani's son's death, and we'd lost sight of him. There was the chance that he could be walking through my city seeking vengeance.

It was what I had wanted, but I couldn't confirm if he had fallen into my trap.

I had anticipated California's uproar, and after all the scheming, the toughest task was dealing with Giuliani's men. It was expected. His soldiers were scattered all around, unruly and lost with the new changes. Some in Los Angeles without sight of their boss. Others in New York fighting a battle with no end. Not to mention the ones here, in Miami, following his orders, while watching their syndicate crumble.

Now, the entire famiglia had their fingers deep in the havoc. The longer it took to tame the loose ends, the more reckless the madness grew.

All four bosses couldn't agree on the possibility of naming a new head for California with Giuliani still alive. Their thoughts were all based on greed and self-gain, believing they could have one of their own running another city when in reality, Los Angeles had its own ranks. But the situation was difficult with a target on a boss who no longer had a next in line.

In the middle of La Cosa Nostra's disagreement, I found out there was one bastard in particular who wasn't helping to restore order. No one other than my fucking future father-in-law.

Alessandra's father wanted to co-rule California between the four families. It would never work, I knew it, and the others did too, which was why the votes were divided. It should be Los Angeles third in command who should take the seat. Someone that would reclaim peace between all the syndicates. A man others trusted as their own and respected.

Instead, Franco slithered and whispered in ears about his plan and my involvement.

He spoke as if I backed him in this plan, creating the two versus two. This shouldn't even be up for a vote. It was mad.