The Mafia Don’s Deadly Obsession

Skye's pov My hands were covered in Papa’s blood, warm and sticky, and I couldn’t stop pressing them against the hole in his chest like that would bring him back. “Papa… please wake up,” I sobbed, my voice breaking into ugly pieces. “You can’t leave me like this. I flew in early. I brought that watch you kept hinting about. We were supposed to have dinner tomorrow and laugh about old stories. Papa!” “Skye, stop. He’s gone.” Alessandro’s voice cut through my panic, low and rough as he yanked me backward into his chest. His arms locked around me like steel. “You can’t save him, principessa. They’re still in the house.” I fought him hard, elbows jabbing, legs kicking. “Let me go! That’s my father lying there! Where were you, Alessandro? You’re always around, always watching. Why weren’t you here when he needed you?” “I got here as fast as I could,” he said, voice cracking as he held me tighter. “God, Skye, I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry. But if we stay here they’ll kill you too. Marco would never forgive me if I let that happen.” I twisted in his arms until I could see his face. His dark eyes looked wrecked, jaw tight, blood from my hands already smearing his white shirt. “Who did this? Tell me who shot him! He said he was out of that life. He promised me everything was safe now!” “I don’t know yet,” Alessandro replied, breathing hard. “But the shots are still echoing. We have to move. Now. Through the passage. Come on.” “No!” I dug my heels in as he tried to pull me toward the bookshelf. “We can’t just leave him here like some… some nobody! He’s Marco Rossi. Someone has to stay with him!” Alessandro gripped my shoulders, forcing me to look at him. “Marco would kill me himself if I risked you. He made me promise years ago — protect his little girl no matter what. That promise doesn’t die tonight. Please, Skye. Move with me.” Tears blurred everything. I let him drag me to the hidden panel, still glancing back at Papa’s body. “Why is this happening? He retired. He gave up the power, the deals, everything. He just wanted normal years left. Why shoot him like an animal in his own study?” “Someone clearly didn’t like that he walked away,” Alessandro muttered, hitting the latch. The bookshelf swung open with a soft click. The narrow passage swallowed us in cool, dim red light. “Keep your voice down. Stay close.” His arm stayed locked around my waist as we hurried through. I stumbled on my heels. He caught me instantly, pulling me against him. “Why are your hands shaking so much?” I whispered. “You never shake. You’re the strong one, the one who always fixes things. What aren’t you telling me, Alessandro?” “Because I almost lost you tonight,” he said quietly, his breath warm against my temple. “The thought of walking in and finding you instead of him… it’s tearing me apart inside.” We reached the end of the passage. The underground garage lights flickered on. He shoved me into the back of his black SUV and climbed right in after me. The driver took off before the door even fully closed, tires screaming. I collapsed against Alessandro’s chest, sobbing harder. “He was supposed to turn fifty next month. I had the whole dinner planned — his favorite wine, that ridiculous cake from the place downtown. Why would anyone do this? Tell me the truth. Was it one of his old enemies?” Alessandro wrapped both arms around me, one hand stroking my hair in slow, soothing strokes. “I don’t know who pulled the trigger yet. But I swear on my life I’ll find out. Breathe with me, Skye. In and out. That’s it. You’re safe right now.” I clutched his shirt, staining it worse with Papa’s blood. “Safe? I just watched my father die and now I’m running away with you. How is any of this safe? You’re holding me so tight… why are you holding me like this?” “Because I can’t let you go,” he admitted, voice rough. “Not tonight. Not when everything just fell apart.” I lifted my head, our faces inches apart in the flashing city lights. “What do you mean by that? You’ve always been distant. Polite. Watching from the edges like some shadow. Why does it feel different now?” Alessandro’s thumb brushed my cheek, smearing blood and tears. “Your father made me swear on everything that mattered to him. When you turned eighteen… he sat me down and said protect her, keep her away from this world, and never — never — touch her. Never love her the way a man wants a woman. I gave him my word.” My heart slammed against my ribs. “You… loved me? All this time?” “Seven years, Skye.” His voice dropped lower, pained. “Seven years of keeping my distance. Sending flowers anonymously on your birthdays. Making sure those useless boys who took you out never got too close. Watching you grow into this incredible woman and knowing I could never have you. It nearly drove me insane.” I stared at him, chest tight with too many feelings. “You can’t say these things tonight. Not when Papa is dead. Not when I’m covered in his blood. This is wrong.” “I know it’s wrong,” he said hoarsely. “But holding you right now, feeling you breathe against me… I can’t pretend anymore. Marco’s gone. The promise is tearing me in half.” The car swerved. I gasped and gripped his shirt tighter. “Slow down! Where are we even going? Your tower? What if they follow us?” “They won’t get to you there,” he promised. “My building is a fortress. You’ll be safe. I’ll keep you safe.” I pushed at his chest a little but didn’t really pull away. “Safe with the man who just confessed he’s been in love with me for years behind my father’s back? What kind of safety is that? Did Papa know how you felt? Did he suspect?” Alessandro looked away for a second, jaw clenched. “He suspected something. That’s why the oath was so strong. He said you deserved a normal life, not one chained to a man like me.” “A man like you,” I repeated. “What does that even mean? The Reaper? The one everyone whispers about but never says too loudly?” He met my eyes again. “Yes. That man. The one who would burn cities for you but promised never to touch you.” His phone buzzed in his pocket. Once. Twice. Three times. He ignored it at first. “Answer it,” I said. “It could be about what happened.” Alessandro pulled it out reluctantly. His face changed the moment he read the screen — tenderness cracking into something cold and dangerous. “What is it?” I asked, fear spiking. “Don’t hide things from me. Not now.” He hesitated, then turned the phone so I could see the messages. Unknown: She’s with you now, isn’t she? Good. Finish what you started tonight, Reaper. Unknown: Or I’ll tell her the truth — that you pulled the trigger on her father yourself. The world tilted. My stomach dropped like a stone. I shoved away from him as much as the moving car allowed. “Alessandro… what the hell is this? Answer me!” “Skye, listen—” “Did you kill him?” My voice rose, shaking with rage and terror. “Did you shoot my father? Look me in the eyes and tell me!” “It’s not that simple,” he said hoarsely, reaching for me. “Someone is setting this up. Setting us up.” “Not simple? We’re driving away from his body and someone is texting you saying you did it!” Tears streamed down my face again. “Was everything a lie? The protection, the gifts, the way you always showed up when I needed someone — was it all to get close enough to destroy us?” “No. Never.” His grip on my waist tightened, desperate. “I loved you from afar because of that promise. I killed men who tried to hurt you. But I did not kill Marco. Someone wants me to take the fall. Someone who knows exactly how to break us both.” The car slowed, pulling into the underground entrance of his sleek glass tower. The doors unlocked with a heavy click. I stared at him, heart pounding so hard it hurt. “Then why do I still feel safer in your arms than anywhere else? What kind of messed up person does that make me?” Alessandro’s eyes burned with raw hunger, pain, and something much darker. “Skye… come inside with me. Let me prove it. Let me show you I would rather die than hurt you.” His hand stayed locked on mine as the door opened and cold air rushed in. I had no idea if I was walking into protection… or straight into the arms of my father’s killer. But as his fingers squeezed mine, warm and possessive, I realized the scariest part wasn’t the text or the blood. It was how badly I still wanted him to hold me.