A Night of Insult

Alessia's Pov

"Alessia!"

Marcello’s sharp voice snapped me out of my glare at the two drunk men at the bar. He stormed over, his heavy footsteps echoing against the wooden floor.

I still had a bottle clenched in my hand, ready to smash it over someone’s head.

Marcello yanked it from my grip. "What the hell are you doing?"

I exhaled sharply, ignoring the laughter from the two men who had just grabbed me. "Handling myself," I muttered.

Marcello’s jaw clenched. "You’re handling yourself straight into unemployment."

I knew I should bite my tongue, but my frustration boiled over. "You saw what happened!" I gestured toward the men, who were still chuckling at the far end of the bar. "They think they can grope me and get away with it."

Marcello pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling. "I get it. But you can’t afford trouble right now. You need this job." His voice softened just a little. "Your mother needs this job."

That hit me hard. My stomach twisted, the fight draining out of me.

I swallowed my pride and nodded. "Fine."

Marcello studied me for a second before sighing. "Good. Now, clean up, serve drinks, and stay out of trouble."

I walked back behind the bar, forcing myself to breathe. My hands still shook with anger, but I buried it, just like I always had to.

The bar grew more chaotic as the night dragged on. The air reeked of sweat, alcohol, and desperation. I kept my head down, avoiding unnecessary conversations, ignoring the lingering stares.

But one stare was different.

I could feel it.

I turned slightly, my eyes flicking toward the farthest booth.

He was still there.

The man in the black suit.

The one Marcello warned me about.

He had been nursing the same drink for over an hour, watching everything. Watching me.

I quickly looked away and focused on the customers, pushing down the uneasy feeling in my chest.

I didn't need distractions. I needed this job.

Hours later, when Marcello flipped the "CLOSED" sign, I felt like I had survived a war. My feet ached, and exhaustion settled deep in my bones.

I grabbed my coat and slipped out the back door into the cool night air. The streets of Palermo were quieter now, but they never truly slept.

I adjusted my bag over my shoulder and started walking home.

Halfway down the dimly lit street, I felt it again.

Footsteps.

Slow. Steady. Follow me.

I gritted my teeth, gripping my bag strap.

Not tonight.

I turned a corner, then stopped abruptly, pressing my back against a wall. My heartbeat pounded in my ears as I waited.

A few seconds later, the footsteps slowed.

A figure emerged from the shadows.

It was him.

The man from the bar.

My pulse jumped. His expression was unreadable, his gaze sharp and calculating.

"What do you want?" I demanded.

He tilted his head slightly, as if considering his answer. "You should be more careful walking alone at night."

I narrowed my eyes. "And you should mind your own damn business."

A smirk played on his lips. "Fair enough."

His eyes flickered to something behind me. Before I could react, he stepped forward, closing the distance between us in one smooth motion.

My breath caught in my throat.

"What are you—"

"Stay still," he muttered.

Then I heard it.

Another set of footsteps.

Low voices.

I turned my head slightly, catching a glimpse of two men at the end of the alley. Their eyes were fixed on me.

A chill ran down my spine.

They were following me too.

The man in front of me moved slightly, shielding me from their view. His voice was low, steady.

"Keep walking," he murmured. "Unless you want their attention."

I hesitated.

He didn’t seem like the kind of man who did favors.

But I also knew enough about Palermo to recognize real danger.

I exhaled through my nose. "Fine."

We started walking.

The men at the alley’s entrance watched us for a moment before slipping back into the shadows.

I didn’t relax.

"Who the hell are you?" I asked.

His smirk returned. "Luca Romano."

I frowned. The name sounded familiar.

And not in a good way.

We reached the street corner, where the main road was brighter, safer.

"This is where we part ways," Luca said smoothly, stepping back.

I studied him. "You didn’t have to help me."

His eyes darkened slightly. "I don’t like men who prey on women."

For a split second, something in his gaze felt almost… sincere.

Then it was gone, replaced by that unreadable mask.

"See you around, Alessia."

And just like that, he turned and walked away.

I let out a shaky breath, watching his figure disappear into the night.

Whoever Luca Romano was, I had a feeling this wasn’t the last time I’d see him.

And I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing—or the start of something far worse.

I unlocked the door and stepped inside. The familiar scent of lavender and old books surrounded me. My mom sat in her armchair by the window, knitting something that had started as a scarf but looked like a tangle of yarn.  

“You’re home late,” she said without looking up.  

“Sorry,” I said, dropping my bag and taking off my coat. “Marcello made me clean up.”  

She paused her knitting and looked at me. Her eyes, once bright, now looked tired and dull from years of being sick. But she still had a sharp awareness.  

“Marcello’s tough, but he keeps you working. That’s important,” she said with a small smile. “Come here, let me see you.”  

I walked over, and she took my hands in hers. Her hands were cold and fragile.  

“You need to eat more,” she said, gently squeezing my hands. “You’re too thin.”  

“I’m fine, Mamma.”  

“You say that, but I worry about you.”  

“And I worry about you, so we’re even.”  

She laughed softly, reminding me of summer mornings from when I was a child, before things got hard. “You’re too good to me.”  

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m lucky to have you.”  

She brushed a strand of hair from my face. “Have you eaten?”  

“Not yet, but I’ll pick up some groceries.”  

She made a worried face. “I hope you’re not spending all your money on me.”  

“Too late for that,” I said, smiling. “You’re my best investment.”  

She rolled her eyes, but her smile showed she found it funny. “Alright, then. But be careful, cara mia. This city isn’t as safe as it used to be.”  

“I will.” I kissed her cheek and took out some crumpled bills from my pocket. It wasn’t much, but it would help us for a few more days.  

The corner store was a couple of blocks away, and I picked up the basics—bread, cheese, and canned soup. As I left, the cashier, an older man with a permanent frown, gave me a pitying look, which I ignored. I didn’t need pity.  

I was supposed to be heading home.

But instead of walking straight to my apartment, I found myself here.

Outside the Palermo Grand Hotel.

Why?

Because of him.

Luca Romano.

I didn’t know why I was curious about him. Maybe it was the way he carried himself, the way Marcello had warned me to stay away.

Or maybe it was how he had looked at me in the alley last night—like he knew something I didn’t.

Whatever the reason, I was here. And I was about to leave when—

Boom.

A deep explosion rocked the side of the building. The windows on the third floor shattered, smoke billowing out. People screamed, running in all directions.

I stumbled back, my heart slamming against my ribs.

Then—gunfire.

Loud. Sharp.

What the hell is going on?