𝗛𝗶𝘀 𝗠𝗼𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝗧𝗼𝘂𝗰𝗵

24 - Bloody Christmas.

I vaguely remember Alessandro's warm hands gently caress my face, his fingers tracing a path across my cheek in the quiet hours of the morning. Even though I was only half awake, I felt the warmth of his hand, the way it made me feel safe, wrapped in comfort. I wanted to open my eyes, to see him just once before he slipped out the door. But my body was spent from the night before and I couldn't move. We hadn't slept much at all, the night had been too intense to stop after just one round. Every time we came together, the passion only grew, leaving me breathless, completely overwhelmed by the beautiful sensations his touch stirred within me. It was different, more consuming, more raw.

But as much as I craved him, I knew better. I knew I was falling for a man who was a fortress—impenetrable, and damn nearly impossible to reach. Alessandro had told me, point blank: 'You shouldn't expect me to love you or shower you with affection, I've forgotten what that even means.' His words were like a huge rock dropped into a well, sinking deeper with every replay in my mind. I wanted to know, more than anything, what had hurt him so deeply that it had locked his heart away. I wanted to peel back the layers and see what was hidden behind his cold and ruthless exterior. But I was scared. Scared that if I looked too closely, I would find something beyond redemption. A man who was too far gone to ever feel love, to ever love me back.

I sighed, pulling myself out of bed and heading downstairs. As I descended, I heard a low, angry growl coming from the office. My ears perked up immediately when I realized it was Diego. He was shouting into his phone, his tone vicious and filled with venom. I hesitated for a moment, curiosity getting the best of me. Quietly, I edged closer, staying out of sight, and listened.

"Li voglio morti, tutti quanti! Attenzione, non deve risalire a me! (I want them dead, all of them! Be careful, it must not be traced back to me!)"

The words hit me like a slap to the face. My heart stopped, the blood draining from my face. He was ordering someone's death—multiple people's deaths. Whoever he was talking about, it wasn't just business. It was personal. I felt sick, my stomach knotting with dread.

Before I could fully process what I'd overheard, I heard footsteps approaching. Panic surged through me and I quickly darted behind the staircase, hiding. Diego had wanted me dead from the moment I stepped into their world, and now more than ever, I couldn't afford to give him a reason to act on it.

As soon as I heard the door click shut behind Diego, I darted back to his office, my heart pounding in my chest. I didn't know exactly what I was looking for, but I knew I had to find something—anything—that could explain what I had just overheard. I reached for the desk drawers, pulling them open one by one, rifling through files and papers with frustration. Everything was just…ordinary. Work-related documents, contracts, schedules.

My frustration mounted as I continued to sift through the piles of paper. I was getting nowhere. This was a mistake. Maybe there was nothing to find. But then, just as I was about to give up, my eyes landed on the bottom drawer.