(Chapter Three) THE LINE HE SHOULD’NT CROSS
1308 Words
Alessandro De Luca was not a patient man.
Power had taught him that waiting was for the weak, that hesitation invited betrayal. Yet here he was, standing in the shadows across the street from a modest apartment building, watching a single light flicker on behind thin curtains.
Isla Moretti.
The woman who had walked away from him.
It should have ended there. Any other witness would have been handled swiftly—paid off, silenced, erased if necessary. That was the rule. That was how his world survived.
But Isla had looked him in the eye and refused him.
And somehow, that refusal had followed him home.
Alessandro loosened his tie, irritation curling in his chest. He had spent the entire night replaying the moment she passed him on the sidewalk, chin lifted, fear barely masked by defiance. She hadn’t begged. She hadn’t flirted. She hadn’t shaken.
She had challenged him.
That alone made her dangerous.
“Boss,” Luca murmured beside him. “We can move her. Somewhere safe. Somewhere controlled.”
Alessandro didn’t respond right away. His gaze remained fixed on the window.
“No,” he said finally. “Not yet.”
Luca frowned. “She’s a liability.”
“She’s human,” Alessandro corrected coolly. “And she hasn’t spoken.”
Yet.
He needed to understand why.
⸻
Isla paced her living room, phone clutched in her hand like a lifeline.
Every sound outside made her flinch. Footsteps in the hallway. A car door slamming. Voices drifting up from the street below. She hadn’t slept—not really. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him.
The way he stood so confidently, like the world bent around him.
The way his voice dropped when he spoke to her, calm but threatening.
The way his eyes lingered on her face like he was memorizing it.
She hated that part the most.
She pressed her forehead against the cool glass of the window and exhaled slowly.
Get a grip.
She was not special. Men like Alessandro De Luca didn’t obsess over women like her. Whatever interest he’d shown was calculated—fear, control, intimidation. Once he was sure she wouldn’t talk, he would disappear from her life.
At least, that was what she told herself.
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown Number.
Her stomach dropped.
She stared at the screen, pulse roaring in her ears. Don’t answer, her mind screamed. But her fingers moved before she could stop them.
“Hello?”
“Isla,” his voice came through smooth and unmistakable. “We need to talk.”
Her knees weakened. She sank onto the couch. “I already told you—I didn’t see anything.”
“That’s not why I’m calling.”
Her breath hitched. “Then why?”
There was a pause, just long enough to make her chest ache.
“Because you’re not safe.”
⸻
Twenty minutes later, Isla stood in the lobby of her building, arms crossed tightly over her chest.
She didn’t trust him. She knew better than to trust a man like Alessandro De Luca. But she trusted the fear crawling up her spine even less.
When he entered, the air changed.
The room felt smaller, heavier, like everything else had stepped back to make space for him. He wore a dark coat, his expression unreadable, eyes sharp as they scanned the surroundings.
“You came,” he said.
“Don’t sound so surprised,” Isla replied, lifting her chin. “You said I wasn’t safe.”
“You aren’t.”
She swallowed. “From who?”
“From people who want what I have.”
“And what do you have?” she demanded.
His gaze flicked to her, intense. “Control.”
She let out a shaky laugh. “Figures.”
Alessandro stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You were seen near one of my operations. That makes you a problem for my enemies.”
“And your solution is… what? Lock me up?”
“No,” he said quietly. “Protect you.”
Isla stared at him. “Why?”
That question hung between them, sharp and unavoidable.
Alessandro didn’t answer immediately. When he did, his voice was colder. “Because if something happens to you, it comes back to me.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting.”
She shook her head. “I won’t be owned.”
“You’re already involved,” he said. “Whether you like it or not.”
Anger flared in her chest. “You don’t get to decide my life!”
His eyes darkened. “Then stop standing in mine.”
Silence stretched. Something electric sparked beneath it.
Finally, Isla spoke, softer. “What do you want from me, Alessandro?”
He hesitated.
“I want you alive,” he said.
And that scared her more than any threat.
⸻
By the third night, Alessandro couldn’t deny it anymore.
He wasn’t protecting Isla because she was useful.
He was protecting her because she occupied his thoughts in ways no woman ever had.
He found himself wondering what she did when she was alone. What music she listened to. Whether she slept curled on her side or flat on her back. Whether she smiled easily, or only when something truly mattered.
It was irritating. Dangerous.
He’d built his empire by keeping his emotions under lock and key. Desire was manageable. Love was not.
Yet when his men reported suspicious movement near her building, something inside him snapped.
“Move,” he ordered, already grabbing his coat.
⸻
Isla heard the knock just after midnight.
Three sharp raps. Not polite. Not friendly.
Her heart lurched into her throat.
She didn’t answer.
The doorknob twisted.
She stumbled back, fear crashing through her as the door burst open—
Only to stop short.
Alessandro filled the doorway, fury carved into his features.
“Pack a bag,” he said. “Now.”
“What—”
“There are men downstairs who shouldn’t be there.”
Her blood turned to ice. “You said I was safe.”
“I said I’d protect you,” he corrected. “That starts now.”
She grabbed her jacket with shaking hands. “Where are we going?”
“My house.”
She froze. “Absolutely not.”
Alessandro stepped closer, his voice dropping dangerously low. “Isla, this is not a negotiation.”
Her chest rose and fell rapidly. “I won’t be trapped.”
“You won’t be touched,” he said, eyes locked on hers. “I give you my word.”
She searched his face, looking for deceit. She found none—only something fierce and frighteningly sincere.
Against every instinct screaming at her to run, she nodded.
⸻
The Moretti estate loomed against the night sky like a fortress.
High gates. Armed guards. Stone walls that whispered secrets and violence. Isla felt impossibly small as they entered, the doors closing behind them with a finality that made her stomach twist.
“This is where you live?” she whispered.
“This is where I survive,” Alessandro replied.
He showed her to a guest room—spacious, elegant, untouched.
“You’ll stay here,” he said. “Lock the door. If you need anything, ask.”
She hesitated. “Why are you doing this?”
Alessandro turned, his back to her. For a moment, he looked tired. Human.
“Because if I don’t,” he said quietly, “I won’t forgive myself.”
Before she could respond, he left.
Isla sank onto the bed, heart pounding.
She was inside the world of a man who didn’t believe in love.
And somehow, she felt like she was already changing him.
Whether that would save them both—or destroy them—she didn’t yet know.
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD