A Mafia Man’s weakness

ChapterFour

Alessia’s POV

The minute I get into the hospital the next day, it is all everyone can talk about. The fact that my ex-husband, Nick, has become the Godfather of the Sicilian mafia.

I remember the look in his eyes when the news came, how he searched for my face and the words that spilled from my mouth in response.

“Congratulations. You can have Sicily.”

He looked like he was pissed about the divorce. About everything. But again, maybe that is just me, looking for something that isn’t actually there.

“Hey,” Enzo muttered, peeking his head through the door to my office. “You look like hell.”

I laugh as he pushes the door open fully and strides in, plopping into the seat at the other end of my table. Dr. Biago has been here since forever. The first time I had a scalpel as a surgeon, he was the lead surgeon for that surgery, walking me through the entire process.

And he has been that way with me since then.

“Is that how a newly divorced woman looks?” I question, clicking the keypad of my computer to bring up the image of a scan.

Enzo’s head jerks back at my casual statement. “You finally let him go?”

I shrug. “I guess it took his father dying for it all to sink in. He didn’t come to me for solace, Enzo. Instead, he was f*****g somebody else right on the same day of the funeral. I cannot…he doesn’t love me as much as I thought he did. Hell, he doesn’t even love me at all.”

Enzo sighs and leans back into the seat, watching me.

“What?” I drawl when I feel his eyes probing into me.

“Are you fine, Alessia?”

It is the first time anyone has asked me that question since that day at the gala. It feels warm and genuine. I zoom the image, giving nothing away.

Because how on earth do I explain to Enzo that I cried myself to bed last night at the hotel because I thought I was making a horrible decision? That I almost returned to the house I called home for over three years to tell Nick that I didn’t mean what I said?

The mere thought brings a sharp pain to my chest, and I resist the urge to buckle over from the intensity of the pain. But I guess Enzo sees it. He scoots to the edge of the seat and asks again. “Alessia, are you fine?”

“Yes.” My response is clipped and mechanical. “Why won’t I be? I just escaped the claws of a man who humiliated me in front of the fourteen families making up the Sicilian mafia. Of course, I am great.”

Enzo doesn’t buy it. At first, he starts saying something, but I guess he decides to let it go for now.

“I have surgery this morning,” he murmurs, thrumming his fingers on the arms of the chair before pulling himself up. “Lunch together?”

“I have surgery during lunch.” I look up at him apologetically, and something crosses his features so fast. Something that looks like disappointment.

“But we can do dinner,” I add quickly. I no longer have any reason to be scared of Nick punching someone in the gut because they dared to touch me. Someone did it right under his nose, and he didn’t even move an inch.

“Dinner it is, then.” He looks like a child who has just been handed his favorite toy. “Where are you staying now so I can come pick you up?”

I shake my head. “Just text me the details. I’ll come to you instead.”

I can’t let him know I live in a hotel. I can’t let anyone know.

Not yet.

The rest of the day goes by in a blur until I am ready to get back to prepare for dinner. I pack up my bags and stride to the front door. There is a light drizzle, not enough for me to get drenched.

“Alessia!” A familiar voice calls from the left side of the entrance. My best friend comes into view, worry etched into her face.

“Hey…”

“You asked for a divorce, and you didn’t bother to tell me,” Callista cries, walking straight into my arms. “Oh my God! Alessia, are you okay?”

I hold her tight, allowing all the bottled-up emotions to be free. “I needed to let him go.” Tears sting the corner of my eyes, and I sniff them back. But they just come again, insistent.

Just like last night.

Callista nods in my arms. “He doesn’t deserve you,” she says, patting my back gently. “You are going to do fine on your own, honey, without the Sicilian mafia breathing down your neck. Without Lorenzo threatening you repeatedly. I promise.”

And I believe Callista, because no one knows me better than she does.

“I was on my way to work when I heard,” she breathes, pulling gently away from me. Callista works as a librarian in a twenty-four-hour library and, for some reason, prefers the night shift.

“Hurry then,” I attempt a chuckle. Her thumb catches a bead of tears on my face.

“I’ll call you later tonight.”

I watch her leave before taking a deep breath and heading to my car. I’m three steps away from it when suddenly, she comes out of nowhere, hitting me.

An old woman, wrapped in a black shawl pulled low, had her head bowed to keep her features hidden. She bumps straight into my chest, sending a jolt of pain through me. She sways on her feet at the same time, and I catch her by the elbows, steadying her surprisingly light body.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur, even though I am sure I wasn’t in her path.

She doesn’t look up at me, but her lip trembles as she whispers, “It is all a lie,” before scurrying away.

I recover from the shock in a second, but when I look around the parking lot, she is nowhere to be seen.

It is like she has suddenly disappeared into thin air.

I feel something small and cold in the middle of my palm, and when I stretch it open, the weirdest thing stares back at me.

A locket, oval and worn.

And for some reason, it feels like I have seen it somewhere before.