Giovanni Moretti
I watched Alessia's retreating form, her dark hair swaying as she strode purposefully down the hallway. The click of her heels on the marble floor faded, replaced by the soft hum of the mansion's air conditioning. A mixture of pride and concern churned in my gut as I sent a quick text to mobilize our people at Rossi's end.
The weight of leadership settled heavily on my shoulders. Alessia had grown into her role faster than I'd anticipated, but the dangers that came with it multiplied daily. My fingers instinctively brushed against the grip of my concealed pistol, a habit born of years of vigilance.
"It's okay to be nervous, Giovanni," Riley's voice startled me from my brooding. "No matter who you are."
I turned to face her, surprised by her perceptiveness. The blonde's
