WHY DID HE MARRY ME

After The Confession

He said "I think I might be in love with you" and then pretended to sleep.

I didn't sleep.

I lay there listening to his breathing. Slow. Even. His good arm was still half around me.

Love. The word felt too big for this room. Too big for us.

By morning he was gone from the bed. I found him in the kitchen in sweats, making coffee with one hand. His arm was still in the sling.

He didn't look at me when I came in.

"Morning," I said.

"Morning," he said. "Coffee."

We drank it in silence. The air was thick.

Finally I said it. "You didn't have to say that last night."

"I know," he said. "I shouldn't have."

"Why did you."

He ran a hand through his hair. "Because I was tired. And hurt. And you were there."

"So it didn't mean anything."

"It meant something," he said. "It just doesn't change anything."

I nodded. "Okay."

"Okay," he said.

We both lied.

---

For three days we acted normal.

Office. Meetings. Dinner. Separate rooms at night.

But it was different. He watched me more. I caught him.

Daniel noticed too. "You two fighting," he asked at dinner.

"No," I said too fast.

Alessandro didn't answer.

On the fourth day, things broke.

I was in the office with him, going over contracts. My phone buzzed. Unknown number.

I ignored it.

It buzzed again. Then again.

Alessandro looked up. "Answer it."

"It's probably spam."

"Answer it," he said.

I did. "Hello."

Static. Then a voice. "Mrs. Moretti. We need to talk about your husband."

I hung up.

"What," Alessandro said.

"Nothing," I said. "Wrong number."

He stood up. Took my phone. Checked the number. His face went hard.

"Marco," he said into his phone. "Trace this. Now."

He looked at me. "You lied."

"I didn't want you to worry," I said.

"Worry is my job," he said. "Lying to me is not."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," he said. "Be honest."

---

An hour later Marco came in. "Burner phone. Bought cash. No trace."

"Of course," Alessandro said. He turned to me. "From now on, you don't answer unknown numbers. You don't go anywhere without me or Marco."

"I have to go to the hospital tomorrow," I said. "For my old coworkers. Farewell lunch."

"No," he said.

"Alessandro"

"No," he said again. "Not until we know who this is."

I got angry. "You can't lock me up forever."

"I can," he said. "And I will if it keeps you safe."

We stared at each other.

"Fine," I said. "Cancel it."

I walked out.

---

That night he knocked on my door. Late.

"Can I come in," he asked.

"Yes."

He sat on the edge of the bed. Looked tired.

"I'm sorry," he said. "For yelling."

"I'm sorry for lying," I said.

He nodded. "This is hard."

"What is."

"Us," he said. "Figuring out what we are."

"What are we," I asked.

"I don't know," he said honestly. "But I know I can't stand the thought of something happening to you."

"Because of the contract."

"Because of you," he said.

We were quiet.

"Can I ask you something," I said.

"Always."

"Do you believe what you said. About love."

He looked down at his hands. "I don't know what love is supposed to feel like. My family didn't do that. But I know this. When I saw you in that hospital bed, taking care of me, I felt something I haven't felt in a long time."

"What."

"Peace," he said. "And I don't get peace."

My throat hurt. "Okay."

He stood. "I'm going to find who called you. And then we can breathe again."

He left.

---

The next week was tense.

More guards. More checks. Alessandro was gone most of the day "handling things."

Daniel started staying late at work to avoid the tension.

I threw myself into learning the business. If I couldn't go out, I would be useful here.

One afternoon I was in his office alone, reading a file, when I heard a noise.

A door downstairs. Not the front door.

I froze.

"Marco," I called. No answer.

Footsteps.

I grabbed the letter opener from the desk. Stupid. But it was something.

The office door opened.

It was Alessandro. He looked shocked to see me standing there with a letter opener.

"What are you doing," he said.

"You scared me," I said. "Where is Marco."

"With me. Downstairs. Why."

"Someone came in," I said.

He crossed the room in two steps. Checked the locks. Checked the windows.

"Nothing," he said. "You probably heard the house settling."

"I didn't," I said.

He looked at me. Really looked. "Okay. We sweep the whole floor."

He did. Nothing.

But after that he started sleeping in my room again. On the couch this time.

"I don't like you being alone," he said.

"I don't mind," I said.

---

A week later we got a break.

Marco found the caller. Not Vince's people. A reporter. Trying to get a story on "the real Mrs. Moretti."

Alessandro dealt with it. The calls stopped.

The house felt lighter after.

That night at dinner, Alessandro poured wine. Two glasses.

"To no more creepy phone calls," he said.

I clinked my glass to his. "I'll drink to that."

We talked. Really talked. About the business. About Daniel. About stupid things.

After, he walked me to my room.

"Seraphina," he said at the door.

"Yes."

"About what I said. I meant it. I just don't know what to do with it."

"You don't have to do anything," I said. "We can just... see."

"See what."

"What this becomes," I said.

He nodded. "Okay. We see."

He leaned in and kissed my forehead. Soft. Quick.

"Goodnight," he said.

"Goodnight," I said.

---

The next morning everything changed again.

We got an invitation. Hand delivered.

Vince's wife. Isabella.

She wanted to meet. "For tea. As wives."

Alessandro read the note and threw it away. "No."

"Why not," I asked.

"It's a trap," he said.

"Or it's a chance," I said. "To end this without more blood."

He looked at me. "You want to go."

"I want to try," I said.

He was quiet for a long time. "Fine. But I go with you. And Marco. And four guards."

"Deal."

---

The tea was at a hotel. Neutral ground.

Isabella was elegant. Cold. She looked at me like I was dirt.

"Mrs. Moretti," she said. "Thank you for coming."

"Thank you for inviting me," I said.

Alessandro sat next to me. Didn't touch me. Didn't have to.

We talked for 20 minutes. Nothing. Weather. Charities.

Then Isabella leaned forward. "My husband is tired of fighting. He wants a truce."

Alessandro didn't react. "Terms."

"No more interference in your shipping," she said. "And you stay out of our south side."

"And," Alessandro said.

"And you keep your wife away from our business," she said, looking at me. "She's a liability."

I felt my face get hot.

Alessandro spoke before I could. "My wife is not a liability. She is the reason I'm not burning your whole operation down right now."

Isabella blinked.

"We'll consider it," Alessandro said. "We'll send terms."

We left.

In the car he was quiet.

"Did I do okay," I asked.

"You did perfect," he said. "And you were right. It wasn't a trap."

"So maybe this is over."

"Maybe," he said. "But we don't celebrate yet."

---

That night back home, I couldn't sleep.

Alessandro knocked. "You up."

"Yes."

"Come to the roof."

We went up. The city was quiet.

"Do you think it will work," I asked. "The truce."

"I think it has to," he said. "For now."

We sat.

"Alessandro," I said.

"Yes."

"About love."

He turned to me.

"I don't know what this is either," I said. "But I know I care about you. A lot. And I'm scared of it."

"Me too," he said.

He took my hand. This time on purpose.

"So we go slow," he said.

"Slow," I agreed.

He squeezed my hand. "Okay."

We sat there until the sun came up.

No promises. No labels.

Just two people, tired of pretending, trying to figure out what came next.

And for the first time, I wasn't afraid of the answer.