CHAPTER ONE : NAPLES
1690 Words
Alessia's POV :
The drive to Naples took five hours. I spent them staring out the window, watching Florence fade into memory while my mind spiralled through every possible reason my father would summon me after a year of silence. The driver didn’t say a word the entire trip. Not that I tried talking to him, I was too busy trying not to throw up.
When we finally turned onto the gravel driveway leading to the estate gates, my stomach dropped.
My father’s compound looked like a crime scene. Black SUV’s lined the driveway, at least four of them with guards in dark suits standing watch, speaking in low voices. This wasn't a family visit. This was something else entirely.
“Who’s here?” I asked.
The driver's eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. “The DeLuca Family.”
The DeLucas. I had heard stories about the DeLucas family my whole life. Whispers at family dinners. They were powerful.
“Why are they here?”
He didn’t answer. Just pulled up at the main entrance and got out to open my door. I sat there for a second, staring at the house I grew up in. The same stone facade, the black iron gates, the same suffocating environment I escaped three years ago. Except now, something felt different.
I got out of the car and smoothed down my jeans , my hands shook, though I couldn’t tell if it was from anger or fear. Two guards stood by the front door with rifles in their hands. They didn’t look at me. They just stared straight ahead like I was invisible.
I walked past them and pushed the door myself. Inside the house was quiet. The staff moved through the halls like ghost with their heads down, avoiding eye contact.
I spotted Maria, our housekeeper, near the staircase. Her face went pale when she saw me.
That’s when I knew whatever this is, was bad.
“What is going on, Maria? Where’s my father?” I asked.
“He’s waiting in the dining, Signorina.”
“Why are the DeLucas here?”
She wouldn’t meet my eyes. “He’ll explain.”
“Maria…“
“Please.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Just go to him.”
I walked down the hall fast, my heart pounding against my ribs.
When I reached the dining room doors, I heard low voices inside. I pushed them open.
My father sat at the head of the table. He looked pale. Older than I remembered—like someone had aged him three years in three months. But it wasn't him that caught my attention first.
It was the men in the room.
One stood near the window, younger, mid-twenties maybe, with dark hair and a smug expression that made me want to punch him. He wore an expensive T-shirt and jeans like he'd dressed down for fun. When he saw me, he smiled. Like I was something amusing.
The other man sat at the opposite end of the table. Perfectly still. He wore a black suit, no tie. Dark hair swept back. And grey eyes that locked onto me the second I walked in.
I had seen his photograph in the newspapers often enough to recognize him.
Matteo DeLuca.
I had never met him in person, but I knew who he was. Everyone in Naples knew. The man who took over his father's empire at 27 after his father got assassinated. According to rumours, he was called il Fantasma—the Ghost because nobody has any proof of what he did. And right then, he was studying me like I was a problem he’d already solved.
“Alessia,” Papa said. “Come in. Close the door.”
I did, slowly.
“You remember the DeLuca family.”
“I know who they are.” I kept my eyes on Papa, refusing to acknowledge the men who’d invaded our home. “What I don’t know is why they’re here.”
The younger man’s smile widened. “Oh. I like her already. Direct.”
“Leonardo.” Matteo didn’t raise his voice, but the air shifted. His brother shut up immediately.
Papa cleared his throat. “Sit down, Tesoro.”
“I’ll stand.”
“Alessia—”
“Just tell me what is going on?”
Silence stretched.
Matteo’s mouth twitched, not quite a smile.
Your father didn’t tell you? His voice was low and calm, like we were discussing the weather. ”How disappointing.”
I turned to Papa “Tell me what?” He stared at the table. Wouldn't look at me.
Matteo stood, stepped forward casually like he owned the room.
“Twelve years ago, my father saved your father's life. Don Carlo swore a blood oath, a debt to be repaid when called.”
My throat went tight. “What kind of debts?”
“The kind that costs something.” His eyes never left mine. “I’m collecting it now.”
“Money.” I said quickly. “My vineyard is doing well, Properties, assets…. We can..”
“I don’t need your money.”
“Then what do you want.”
He stepped closer, close enough that I could see the faint scar above his left eyebrow. I had to tilt my head back to keep eye contact.
“You.”
The word hung in the air.
My heart stopped. Actually stopped. Then kicked back into rhythm so hard I thought everyone in the room could hear it
“Excuse me?”
“That’s the price of your father’s debt.” Matteo’s tone didn’t change. “ Your family owes mine. A marriage settles the debt. You become a DeLuca. The alliance is sealed. Everyone benefits.”
I blinked. “You’re insane.”
“I’m practical.”
”Alliance?” I spun to face my father. “Did you agree to this?”
Papa’s eyes were red. “I had no choice, Tesoro.”
“There’s always a choice!”
“Not in our world.” Matteo’s voice cut through. “Your father gave his word. Blood for blood. Life for life. In front of witnesses. In our world, oaths are binding.”
“I don’t care about your world.”
“Then you shouldn’t have come home.”
He turned and walked toward the door. Slowly. Like he’d already won.
“The wedding is in two weeks,” he said without looking back. “My people will handle everything. You’ll move into my home three days before the ceremony.”
“No.” My hands curled into fists. “I won’t marry you.”
He stopped. Glanced over his shoulder.
“Your father’s debts,” he said quietly. “They’re not just to me. The Ferrara clan. Politicians in Rome. Judges in Milano. If this alliance falls through, those debts become active. This estate. The Rossi name. Whatever he’s built. Gone.”
He paused.
“And your father?” His grey eyes locked on mine. “He won’t survive what comes next.”
I looked at Papa. He looked broken.
The room tilted slightly.
“Three days, Alessia Rossi.” Matteo’s voice was softer now. “Don’t make me come get you myself.”
I swallowed hard. “I’ll be ready.”
“I know you will.”
For just a second, something flickered across his face. Surprise, maybe. That I’d agreed. That I hadn’t screamed or cried or begged.
Then it was gone.
He left, taking Leonardo and all the tension in the room with him.
The second the door closed, Papa spoke.
"Tesoro, let me explain."
"Please don’t. I said. “I don’t want to hear anything right now.”
"Alessia—"
"I'm going to my room."
I left before he could respond, my footsteps echoing on the marble floors as I climbed the stairs to my childhood bedroom.
The second the door closed behind me, I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding.
My childhood bedroom was exactly how I left it. White curtains. Books on the shelf. A view of the garden where my mother used to grow roses. Like the last three years never happened.
I sat on the edge of my bed.
Two weeks until I married a man I'd just met. A man who looked at me like property. A man with more blood on his hands than I could imagine.
And my father had handed me over like I was nothing.
A knock at the door made me jump.
"Signorina?" Maria's voice.
"Come in."
She opened the door slowly, carrying a tray with tea and biscuits. Set it on the nightstand.
"I thought you might be hungry."
"I'm not."
She nodded but didn't leave. Just stood there, wringing her hands.
"What is it, Maria?"
"Are you okay, Signorina?" Her voice was soft. "I know this is difficult, but your father.."
"Please, Maria." I held up a hand. "Don't defend him."
"Si." She gestured to the tray. "Per favore mangia, mia cara. I'll prepare a bath for you later."
Maria had been with us since I was five. A second mother, really. But right now, I couldn't handle anyone making excuses for what Papa had done.
After Maria left, I sat in silence.
My phone buzzed. A message from Chiara.
CHIARA: Hey! How’s Naples? Is your dad okay?
CHIARA: Alessia?
I stared at it. Started typing a response. Deleted it. Started again. Deleted it again.
How do you tell your best friend you just got sold? That the life you built was never really yours? In two weeks, you'd be married to a stranger whether you wanted it or not?
I set the phone down and looked at my reflection in the window.
For now I’m still Alessia.
The next thing that came to my mind was Matteo’s eyes. The way he looked at me like he already knew exactly how this would end.
“What does he really want? Why me.” I whispered to myself.
If Matteo DeLuca thinks I’d be a silent, obedient bride, he was about to learn how wrong he was.
- Writer
