𝒫𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓃𝓃𝑒

Chapter 7

Eleanor lay curled up on her bed, shaking with sobs. The violence of the recent moments echoed in her mind, the sharp sound of the gunshot still reverberating through her consciousness. The fear of the unknown and the rawness of her emotions made her feel both exposed and terrified.

Another knock on the door startled her. Her heart pounded as she heard Alessio's voice from the other side, a mixture of anger and concern.

"Eleanor? Let me in."

Instinctively, she wanted to shut him out. The sight of Alessio, who had just fired a gun, was far from comforting. She took a deep breath, her voice trembling as she spoke through the door.

"No. I don't want to see you. Just go away!"

Alessio's voice was more insistent now, though tinged with frustration. "Cazzo, sweetheart. I won't let any man speak to you or about you like that. Let me explain if you don't want to make things worse."

Despite her apprehension, Eleanor unlocked the door and opened it just enough to see him. Alessio stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a firm click. He stood a few feet away, his gaze intense but softened with genuine concern.

Eleanor's eyes were red and puffy, and her voice trembled as she looked up at him. "Please, don't make me see anything like that again. I can't—I can't handle it."

Alessio's gaze softened, though his frustration was still evident. He sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose as if trying to find the right words. "I promise you, sweetheart. It won't happen again."

The unexpected use of the nickname caught Eleanor off guard. For a brief moment, her blush deepened as she registered the term of endearment. She didn't understand why he had used it, but it stirred a flutter of emotions within her.

Her voice was barely a whisper. "Thank you. I just—I need to feel safe."

Alessio's eyes flashed with, well she didn't know if it was pity or sadness. She looked down, still a crying mess, he gently lifted her jaw with his fingers, making her look straight into his eyes. 

"I promise you, your safety is our main concern, princess." He used the pad of his thumb to gently wipe her tears before turning around and leaving.

...

Dinner was served, but the atmosphere around the table was noticeably different from before. The elegant dining room, with its grand decor and opulent setting, seemed almost oppressive this evening. Eleanor, still shaken from the earlier events, tried to steady herself as she took her seat.

The usual chatter and clinking of silverware were absent. Instead, there was a heavy silence, punctuated only by the occasional murmur or the scrape of a chair. The men around the table appeared to be engaged in their own private thoughts, casting furtive glances at each other and avoiding eye contact with her.

Eleanor felt the weight of their unspoken knowledge pressing down on her. It was as if they were all aware of something she wasn't, and their hushed demeanor only heightened her sense of isolation. She shifted in her seat, trying to focus on her meal, but her discomfort made it difficult to enjoy the food.

Every time she tried to join the conversation or ask a question, her words felt out of place. The men—Alessio included—seemed preoccupied, their minds clearly elsewhere. The tension in the room was palpable, and Eleanor felt like an outsider trying to navigate a world she barely understood.

She took small, nervous bites of her food, her gaze dropping to her plate. The earlier incident had left her on edge, and the strange mood at dinner only compounded her feelings of unease. She kept her head down, avoiding eye contact with the others and focusing intently on the task of pushing her food around her plate.

Despite her efforts to stay composed, her silence spoke volumes. Alessio, seated at the head of the table, occasionally glanced her way, his expression a mix of contemplation and frustration. The others, too, seemed to notice her discomfort, though they made no effort to address it.

As the meal progressed, Eleanor's sense of alienation deepened. The strained atmosphere made her feel like she was encased in a bubble of isolation, unable to penetrate the wall of secrecy that surrounded her. Her mind raced with thoughts of what might be happening, and she could only imagine the nature of the unspoken tension that gripped the room.

Eleanor had barely pushed her chair back from the dining table when she heard Alessio's voice call out her name. The room, still shrouded in an uncomfortable silence, seemed to pause as she turned toward him.

"Eleanor, wait."

She hesitated, her hand on the doorknob, and turned slowly to face Alessio. The weight of his gaze was palpable, and she could see the seriousness in his eyes. The other men remained quiet, their expressions a mix of curiosity and concern.

Alessio motioned for her to return to the table, his tone firm yet oddly reassuring. "We've decided that, after this afternoon's occurrence, it's time to be honest with you."

Eleanor's heart skipped a beat. She was both relieved and apprehensive at the prospect of finally getting some answers. She walked back to her seat, her movements hesitant but determined.

"We are The Cosa Nostra."

"The what?"

"I am the boss of the Sicilian Mafia."