Book three of the only series
They gave her one mission. They told her to find the Chicago mob Capo and get revenge. So they sent her away. She had a plan. A mindset. Goals she needed to reach.
Until she met his son.
He was supposed to be the en...
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I stared at the broken glass from the big windows, windows that were still shattered. All the furniture inside was gone. It was empty, dark and abandoned.
It's been two weeks.
Two weeks since Declan basically declared war against the Chigaco mob.
At a place he knew I worked and destroyed because of his manipulation tactics. Claire had no store now. She had built it from the ground up with her husband and it was gone just like that.
It would take years to repair the damage and it was money she didn't have.
Everyone in Chicago knew about the underworld business. Claire knew she was right in the middle of mob territory. So when things happened, questions were asked but none were answered.
"Staring at it all day won't undo what has already been done," a deep voice said from not too far away from me.
He always fucking did this.
I looked over, blinking against the harsh sunlight that poured down on us. Alessio closed the door to his shiny black BMW. We were both parked in front of his restaurant, Nico's. Which was down the street from the cafe. I had been leaning against my hood - of the car I finally got fixed- waiting for him and the cafe was directly in my view, forcing me to remember what had been done.
I avoided passing by whenever I went to work at Eagle's strip club, but coming here it was unavoidable.
All because Alessio called me mid shift. Well, he technically called the club to tell me because we had still yet to exchange numbers.
Alessio was also not dressed in a suit this time. I couldn't tell what was fucking worse. His everyday suit or this.
He had black jeans on and a black t-shirt that showed more muscle than his suits did. It was the first time I saw the tattoos littering up both of his arms clearly. It was art and I was drawn to every design etched into his skin, but I forced myself to look him in his eyes instead. Which was just worse.
"Off of work today?" I asked once he was feet away from me. I tried to find a distraction from the tattoos that I'd never seen before and his intoxicating scent that seemed to stick to my skin and go with me everywhere even after he left.
Alessio leaned against my hood with me, his eyes suddenly resting on the cafe instead of on me. I could see the guilt in them too and who fucking knew Alessio had a certain soft spot.
"Work is later," he muttered and I was glad he was looking anywhere but me because I didn't want him to see that I was staring still. The shape of his sharp jawline made me want to run my hand across it, feel everytime he clenched it. His hair was also messier today and everyday that I saw him since the shooting I could tell this war was getting worse by the second just by his appearance. I had learned his father didn't do much to help, Alessio did everything to make his business thrive. It was basically his. The Irish didn't know that, maybe I should've told them. Told them they underestimated Alessio Vinci Bertelli.
