Alessia Mancini
Two hours later, we emerged from the sanctum of Don Conti's boutique into the blinding afternoon sunlight. The clamor of the waiting crowd hit me like a physical force, a cacophony of shouts and camera shutters. I instinctively pressed closer to Giovanni, his solid presence anchoring me.
Alessandro materialised at our side, his eyes constantly scanning the throng. "Stay close," he muttered, his usually stoic face creased with concern.
We moved as one unit, Don Conti and his men forming a protective barrier around us. The scent of Vittorio's cologne mingled with the acrid tang of sweat from the pressing bodies.
"Alessia! Giovanni! Over here!" The shouts blended into a deafening roar.
I plastered on my most dazzling smile, though my stomach churned. This was the game, wa
