THE DON'S BLIND SPOT

CHAPTER 2: THE BAR

Living with Aurora was easier than I expected, more comfortable than I had allowed myself to hope. Her apartment was small but warm, filled with sunlight in the mornings, and it smelled faintly of coffee and her perfume. I unpacked my things, folding shirts and sweaters into drawers I didn’t deserve, and realized that for the first time since leaving New Jersey, I felt at home. Not completely safe, never completely safe, but calmer.

Aurora bounced around the kitchen, humming a tune I didn’t recognize, pulling cups from the cabinet, her dark hair falling into her face as she laughed at something I didn’t catch. She looked so ordinary, so unguarded, I almost forgot she was a De Luca. I almost forgot the world she came from, a world I had only read about in whispers, a world I wanted nothing to do with.

“Come on,” she said suddenly, tossing me a scarf with a grin, “we’re going out tonight. My brother’s bar isn’t the usual tourist trap, you’ll see.”

I hesitated, tugging the scarf around my neck, unsure if I was ready for another crowded, noisy room full of strangers. But the pull of curiosity was stronger than my caution. Aurora’s confidence was infectious, and I wanted to believe I could trust her completely, even if I didn’t know why.

“Alright,” I said, adjusting my jacket, “let’s go.”

The streets of Rome were alive with energy, scooters weaving between cars, couples laughing on corners, music spilling from open windows. I followed Aurora through the maze of cobblestones, feeling the hum of the city around me, the pulse of life I hadn’t allowed myself to notice in months. It was thrilling and terrifying at the same time, my chest tight with anticipation.

The bar appeared suddenly, tucked into an alley, its exterior sleek and understated, but the soft glow from inside promised something different. Music pulsed faintly through the walls, laughter, the smell of whiskey and wood polish. Aurora opened the door for me, stepping aside with a smile. “Trust me,” she said softly, “you’ll like it.”

Inside, the atmosphere was calm but electric, a low hum of conversation mingling with the smooth music, the lighting dim, shadows folding over the patrons like a protective layer. I followed Aurora to a booth in the back, my stomach twisting nervously as she waved to someone behind the bar. That was when I saw him.

He didn’t move like the men I had met before, loud, desperate to be noticed. He moved with precision, every motion measured, controlled, dangerous. Dark eyes scanning the room, lips relaxed but firm, posture like he owned everything without needing to say a word. And when those eyes landed on me, I felt it instantly, a weight pressing down, a heat spreading through my chest.

Alessio De Luca, Aurora’s brother, she had said casually, nothing more. A businessman, she said, but I already knew that wasn’t enough. There was power in him I couldn’t define, a quiet authority that made the room shift without him touching it. I wanted to look away, to pretend I hadn’t felt his gaze, but curiosity rooted me to the spot.

Aurora leaned close, whispering, “Don’t mind him, he’s harmless tonight, just busy with something.”

Her words should have been comforting, but the truth in them only made my pulse quicken. I could feel it, the way he studied me, like I was an unknown variable in a room where he already controlled everything. I nodded, pretending to listen, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

He approached the bar, and even as he spoke to the bartender, I noticed the way his presence demanded attention without a single raised voice. Patrons glanced his way, smiles polite, heads bowed slightly, as if acknowledging a king without needing to kneel. Every instinct in me screamed warning, flee, run away, but my body betrayed me, curiosity mixed with something sharper, a thrill that I couldn’t name.

Aurora introduced us lightly, effortlessly, like this was nothing unusual, like he wasn’t a storm I couldn’t survive. “Seraphina, this is my brother, Alessio,” she said, smiling. “Alessio, this is the girl I told you about.”

He nodded once, a subtle motion that held the weight of a statement, his gaze lingering on me slightly longer than necessary. I smiled, voice small, “Nice to meet you,” and felt the electricity of it, like a thread tugging at my chest. His lips twitched, almost a smirk, but controlled, unreadable, and I didn’t know whether to be relieved or terrified.

I wanted to retreat, to step back, but Aurora’s hand on my arm grounded me, reminded me I had chosen to be here, chosen to trust her. And yet, I couldn’t ignore the stirrings inside me, the sense that I had walked into something far bigger, far more dangerous, than a bar in Rome.

He spoke to Aurora for a moment, quietly, no one else noticing, but I caught the words I didn’t understand, the tone, the authority, the subtle command. And though I couldn’t place it yet, I knew it meant he controlled more than just this room. My stomach tightened again, and I felt that mix of fear and fascination I had felt before with my ex, only magnified, sharper, hotter.

The night went on, Aurora chatting, laughing, making me feel normal in a place where I wasn’t. But Alessio remained a presence, a shadow I couldn’t ignore, his attention occasionally flicking to me in moments I couldn’t explain. I found myself noticing every detail, the sharp line of his jaw, the way his shoulders moved, the controlled rhythm of his movements, the way his eyes seemed to see more than I would ever want to admit.

I had come to Italy to escape, to start over, but with every glance he sent in my direction, I felt the fragile thread of safety I had built begin to fray. And I realized, as much as I wanted to deny it, I was already caught in something I didn’t understand, something bigger than a café, bigger than Aurora’s apartment, bigger than anything I had imagined.

That night, walking home beside Aurora, I tried to shake it off, tried to tell myself it was just attraction, curiosity, nerves. But my heart wouldn’t listen, my mind wouldn’t stop tracing the line of his back when he left the room, the way he carried himself like nothing could touch him, like he belonged everywhere and to no one at the same time.

I didn’t know his name yet, I didn’t know his world, and I didn’t know the danger he represented, but I felt it, the pull, the warning, the promise that my life had just become infinitely more complicated.

And even as I laid in the quiet apartment that night, staring at the ceiling, I knew I would see him again. I would want to, even though every instinct screamed to run. Alessio De Luca was a storm waiting to happen, and I was standing in the first drops, drenched before I had a chance to run.