A Mafia Man’s weakness

Alessia’s POV I stare at my reflection in the mirror for the umpteenth time tonight, wondering if this will be enough for him. For us. My hands pat down the non-existent creases from the daring red dress, with a deep plunge at the back and a sensual neckline. It is what I see him gaze at these days, his eyes dipping in lust, his hands straying even in the light. “Alessia,” Calista’s voice calls from downstairs. “Hurry up, or we are going to be late.” “Coming.” Grabbing my gold clutch from the nightstand, I turn around and head down the stairs. I take my time, one foot in front of the other, because Domenico says queens are not hurried. Yet, in his home, I feel like the opposite. Like a slave not valued, tossed aside, and disrespected. My best friend, Calista, is in an even sluttier dress, leaving almost nothing to the imagination. “It is a black tie event, Calista,” I chuckle, reaching the base of the stairs. “Are you sure…” “Honey,” she drawls, planting herself next to me, her perfectly manicured nails on my arms, digging but not drawing blood. “You are the married woman here, and dare I add that your husband is going to be the next Godfather. And then, there’s me. I need something like that for myself.” I am not sure she is going to get it tonight at the gala, but a girl can want what she wants. When we arrive, Calista lets go of my arms and rushes into the room like a giddy child, leaving me standing at the landing, overseeing the room. My body stiffens when I feel him standing next to me. It is a rehearsed reaction, as even though I tell myself that I am built for this world, I keep learning daily that it might not exactly be the case. The music blends perfectly with his tone as he leans in. “Beautiful dress,” he murmurs, allowing his fingers to stray. No one touches what belongs to Domenico Nick Valenti, yet Lorenzo has never kept to that rule. Instead, he seems to be a great fan of breaking every inch of it, just to get Nick upset. And these days, I doubt Nick cares anymore. “Thank you, Lorenzo,” I whisper, resisting the urge to flinch at his touch. I know what this event means to my husband. One wrong move will send everything clattering to the ground, and that can’t happen because of me. Still, Lorenzo inches closer. I feel his fingers in the plunge in my dress, splayed on purpose. The warmth from his tone hovers around my exposed neck, and I shiver from the impact. “You know,” he starts, pulling me flush against his side. My breath catches in my throat, but I give nothing away. “You are the best surgeon in Italy and all of Europe. Don’t you think a woman like you belongs by my side instead?” “Lorenzo…” “I am going to the Godfather of the Sicilian mafia, and when I do, the first person on my list to get rid of is your husband, Domenico Nick Valenti.” Lorenzo says the name like a curse, and I totally get it. Still, it doesn’t stop the sudden rage I feel creeping through my bloodstream. “You don’t want to be caught up in the crossfire, Alessia,” he drawls, getting impossibly closer. “And Nick isn’t worth all the stress.” “Actually,” I whisper, my eyes still scanning the room, searching for him. “It is Mrs. Valenti to you, Lorenzo. And an enemy of my husband is my enemy.” His hands drop from my back, and I take the opportunity, pulling away from him. I take a deep breath, angling my head as I watch him from underneath my lashes. “And Lorenzo, you seem to be so certain you will be Godfather.” A cold smile stretches on his face, but it can’t mask the perfect strike I just made. I see it in his hands, as they squeeze into fists by his side, and in the sudden fire in his eyes when he regards me, the lust totally gone. “You think your husband’s little actions of taking my inheritance from me are going to work?” There is feigned amusement in his tone as he chuckles. Because Lorenzo and everyone in the room know that once Nick sets his mind to doing something, nothing can stop him. That is what this event is all about. My husband is playing politics. Getting people in his favor. I find him in the crowd, and relief washes through me. Turning back to Lorenzo, I allow a smile to stretch across my face. “I don’t think it is going to work. I know it will work.” But when it does, I just might not be here. Walking away from Lorenzo, I continue my journey down the stairs, navigating the elegantly dressed bodies to get through to my husband. He is leaning on the wall in a corner, a glass of scotch in one hand, his grey eyes scanning the room without giving it away. Just when I get close to him, his name on the tip of my tongue, she comes out of nowhere, crushing me without even trying. I hear the light giggle easing off her lips as she stops by his side. “Hi Nick,” she whispers in a sultry tone. His hands wrap around her waist like he owns her. But the worst thing is that I can’t look away, no matter how hard I try. Hurt reaches out to me like gloves, punching me straight in the gut. I feel the urge to buckle over from the pain. My breath comes out in short gasps. His eyes fall on me. My husband, Domenico Nick Valenti. The woman on his arm follows his eyes. A smile crosses her face as she strides closer. “Hey, Alessia,” she drawls, angling her head. “Fancy seeing you here. I thought you’d be at home like a good wife.” “It is my husband’s event,” I remind her weakly. I might be a tigress out there, but when it comes to Nick, I find myself unable to move an inch, unable to breathe. “Husband?” A chuckle falls from her lips. She eyes him knowingly before returning her gaze to me. “Sure. If that is what you are calling him.” My lips open to respond, but just then, a gunshot echoes in the air, and a piercing scream travels through the walls. I hear it when the body drops.