A Change Of Plans
1126 Words
The car was silent except for the hum of the engine. I kept my hands tightly folded in my lap, trying not to let them shake. The moment Alessino had seen the man outside his house, everything shifted.
I wasn’t sure which was scarier—the fact that someone wanted him dead… or the fact that he didn’t seem remotely surprised.
Beside me, he was unnervingly calm. His fingers tapped against his knee, slow and deliberate. I wasn’t stupid enough to ask if he was nervous. Men like him didn’t get nervous. And if they did, they sure as hell didn’t show it.
I swallowed, my voice coming out more hesitant than I wanted. “So… are we going to talk about what you said back there? Or should I just start assuming the worst?”
His gaze flicked to me, sharp and unreadable. “What do you think?”
I pressed my lips together. “I think you just admitted that you've killed people before.”
He didn’t deny it.
Cold fear curled in my stomach. But it is not like I didn't already know this fact he was a killer but knowing it and having him admit it was two different things.
I shifted slightly, just enough to put a little more space between us. My mind was screaming at me to stop talking, but my mouth had other ideas. Nervous humor has always been my best (and worst) coping mechanism.
“So, just to clarify—when you say ‘someone I should have killed,’ is that, like… a regretful thing? Or a missed opportunity kind of deal?”
Nothing. Not even a smirk.
God, I hated how unreadable he was. It was worse than if he’d just told me something terrifying. At least then, I’d know what I was dealing with.
I glanced out the window, watching the blurred city lights flicker against the glass. The moment Alessino saw that man, everything changed.
“You’re coming with me to the office,” he had said.
I swallowed. “What? Why?”
“You’ll be safer there.”
I bit my tongue, swallowing my first response—Defined as safe, because your track record sucks. Instead, I forced out a shaky breath and nodded. I wasn’t in a position to argue.
Not when I was still afraid of what he might do if I pushed too far.
---
Fifteen minutes later, we pulled into an underground parking garage. The moment the door opened, Alessino’s assistant was already waiting.
I scrambled out quickly, needing space, but kept my movements measured. Controlled. No sudden moves.
I’d learned that lesson fast.
The elevator ride was suffocating. I kept my arms folded, my fingers digging into my sleeves, eyes flicking between the glowing floor numbers and the man standing beside me.
He wasn’t even looking at me. But that didn’t make him any less intimidating.
I wasn’t stupid.
He could hurt me if he wanted.
No—would hurt me if he thought I was a problem.
The doors slid open to reveal a sleek, modern office space, the kind that screamed too much money and not enough warmth. Everything was pristine—polished floors, glass walls, the kind of space built for intimidation rather than comfort.
It suited him.
Employees moved through the halls efficiently, some bowing deeply the moment they saw him, while others stiffened and moved away in fear.
So it wasn’t just me who was afraid of him.
That was… comforting? Maybe?
We stepped into his office, and the door shut behind us with a soft click.
I turned, arms crossed, trying to keep my voice steady. “Okay. We’re alone now. So tell me—who is Marco Russo, and why does he want you dead?”
Alessino poured himself a drink. I tried not to focus on the way his fingers curled around the glass, strong and sure.
“He’s from a rival family,” he said finally. “His father tried to kill me once.”
His voice was so casual it made my skin crawl.
“Not that it’s any of your business," he added, "Your job is to stay by my side to lure your father out.”
I exhaled sharply, my mind spinning. “So this is… some kind of revenge thing? And also, if he kills me in his revenge plan against you, I won't be able to help you lure my dad out. So yes, this does concern me.”
He was silent for a moment, watching the liquid in his glass like it held all the answers.
“Something like that.”
I licked my lips. “And what does this mean for me?”
Finally, he met my gaze. “You stay close to me.”
A chill ran down my spine.
Something about the way he said it made goosebumps rise along my arms.
Like my safety was entirely dependent on his mood.
I forced myself to nod, even as unease slithered through my chest. “Right. Because that’s worked out so well for me so far.”
His eyes darkened.
I immediately regretted the words.
Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating. I didn’t breathe. Didn’t move.
Then, finally, he spoke.
“You don’t have a choice here,” he said. His voice was quieter now, more dangerous. “Remember your place. Or do I need to remind you?”
Ice slid through my veins.
I swallowed. “So what now?” I asked quietly.
He leaned back against his desk, watching me like I was something fragile. Breakable. “Now, we wait.”
I let out a hollow laugh, shaking my head. “Wow. That’s… fantastic. Let’s just sit back and see what happens. Nothing like a little life-or-death suspense to keep things interesting.”
Alessino’s lips twitched—just barely. Like I was amusing, but not enough to actually smile.
“I’ll handle Marco,” he said simply.
“And if you don’t?”
His gaze held mine. “Then you won’t have to worry about anything ever again.”
His eyes turned cold when he said this.
A shiver ran through me, and this time, I couldn’t hide it.
He didn’t just mean himself.
He meant me.
I nodded stiffly, looking away. My fingers curled into the fabric of my dress, gripping hard.
I could feel Alessino’s eyes on me, like he was waiting for me to react, to argue, to fight.
But what was the point?
I’d known from the moment he took me that this was a cage.
I just hadn’t realized how small it was.
And now, I wasn’t sure I’d ever find a way out.
How do I continue to chapter 8 from here
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