Chapter 1 Our Daughter

Alyssa Russo’s POV

I have no idea what to do with this change.

Having Alessandro de Rossi in the mansion is worse than being here alone.

I feel like I’m living with a tiger.

When he’s around, the air is different. It’s charged, like before a storm. I know that I’m not the only person who feels it, because the staff moves differently around Brady.

For one, people appear out of the woodwork to do his bidding. I had no idea that the estate had a garden staff, for example, until Alessandro appeared on the scene.

The trees outside have never looked better.

I have a feeling that the entire estate isn’t on the beach, as I had previously thought, but somewhere inland. Florida is a mess of bogs and muggy little spots that no one can find you, and the people who work for families like mine know this very well.

There’s more than one body buried in the belly of a gator, that’s for sure.

It’s been about a week since Alessandro appeared, and I’ve settled into another routine. Mostly, it involves avoiding Alessandro, and pretending that I’m invisible.

I’m drifting through the halls like normal when I see Alessandro and Amara slip into a room. Curious, I look up and down the hall after they softly close the door behind them.

There’s no one else here.

No one to babysit me.

Go find out what they’re doing.

This could be it. This could be my chance to get the information that I need to finally get out of here. I don’t care that I’m in the middle of nowhere… I’ll figure out a way to get out if I get what I need.

Or I’ll die trying.

My body feels alive and electric in a way that it hasn’t for a while. I still feel the fog that I’ve been operating under, but I can also see something that’s been eluding me for weeks now.

A way out.

I creep up to the office, cautiously looking to see if anyone is in the hall. There’s still no one.

If memory serves, the armed guards should all be outside during this time, and the house staff are doing things that generally keep them out of the hallways. Usually, it’s a quiet time that’s kind of nice.

Now, I’m so grateful at the lack of people around me that I want to jump for joy.

After checking to make sure that I won’t collapse the whole thing in, I press against the door. There’s male voices, one of which sounds small like it’s coming out of a speaker, and Amara.

If I squish myself against the wood as hard as I can, I can almost hear their conversation.

If I press hard, I can hear it.

“…makes no sense,” the tiny voice, which I assumed to be a speaker said.

“Nico, there’s no other option. I know they’re behind the attack.”

“Alessandro, listen to what he’s saying,” Amara says in a low voice. It’s more serious than I’ve ever heard here before, and the lack of her usual flippant attitude makes my stomach twist.

I hear Alessandro’s footsteps and flinch, ready to sprint away from the door. He doesn’t appear, however, so I scooch back over.

Alessandro’s muttering. I think he’s cursing… in Italian? I’m not nearly fluent enough to know what he’s saying, but it sends a chill down my spine anyway.

I’ve been on the receiving end of his ire, and I know how dark that can be.

Alessandro mutters again. Then, his voice gets clear. “Nico, what else is happening, if the investigation doesn’t have any updates.”

What investigation?

“Nothing much, boss. The Irish are trying to say that we sold them bad guns, but Declan was there and says there’s nothing wrong with them.”

Alessandro snorts. “They’re trying to get a refund.”

“Si, well I think so. I think someone is trying to bring down a local biker gang.”

“Interesting,” Alessandro rumbles. “Amara, did you know about this?”

“The motorcycle gang or the takedown?”

“Boss, you don’t wanna know,” the guy on the phone says.

Amara snickers, and I hear Alessandro sigh. “Amara, what do you know?”

“According to the guy I met…”

“Boss, she didn’t just meet…”

“Stop being a fucking rat, Nico,” Amara snaps.

The person on the phone laughs. “Ok. Continue, Ms. Boss.”

I’m surprised that they treat Amara with deference. My brothers aren’t misogynistic by any stretch, but there are a lot of traditions in the business that exclude women, pretty universally.

One of them is having women in positions of power.

But clearly, Amara is important. Maybe not more important than Alessandro, but the man on the phone is clearly deferential to Amara as well as Alessandro.

Interesting.

“What I said before I was so rudely interrupted was that the guy I met says that there’s something weird happening out there in the boonies.”

“Weird like what?” Alessandro asks.

I press closer. The boonies? That could mean anywhere rural from Texas to Wyoming to….

“Well for one, it’s been rural New Jersey that’s being targeted a lot in the past week.”

I freeze.

Alessandro’s voice holds a frown. “What’s happening?”

“Break-ins. Couple of kidnappings. Mostly in places that people consider to be pretty stable and safe. Real Leave-It-To-Beaver type spots.”

“I don’t see what a couple of teenage hooligans have to do with targeting a biker gang.”

“It’s a little deeper than that, and most of the members have had their families targeted.”

Jesus. At least Nonna Mia doesn’t have anything to do with a biker gang, or I’d be more worried. I’m a little less nervous now, but still very interested.

“There have been more in the past two days,” Nico clarified on the phone. “Arson mostly.”

“More?” Amara’s concern is evident. “Where?”

“Some cases against us, which is why I want to figure out what the hell is going on. If we’re getting caught in the crossfire in some other situation, I want us to be on guard.”

“What’s been hit?” Alessandro rumbles.

The voice on the phone, Nico, sighs like he’s reading a list. “One warehouse in the middle of nowhere. One farm somewhere in Jersey burned. Town with a super weird name…real funky sounding.”

“Funky sounding like what, Nico?” Amara growls.

 “Sha-something. Can’t remember it.”

My heart stops at the person’s voice on the phone.

No.

It can’t be that.

Shamong is in rural New Jersey. It’s a small town. Known for farms. There are a ton of farms there. It couldn’t be Anne and Nonna Mia.

It couldn’t be.

“Why do we care about some farm in Shamong?” Alessandro grumbles.

“Dunno, but it might be a repeat problem. Heard that on this farm, a little old lady lived there. Can’t have little old ladies be targeted, you know?”

My ears are ringing.

My hands shake.

No.

It can’t be her.

No.

Panic engulfs me. I have no way of finding out if they’re talking about Nonna Mia. No way to find out if my baby is alive or dead.

I can’t just sit here and wait while her life is at risk, especially if there’s some kind of rogue biker gang that’s willing to kill civilians in the crossfire.

And if she’s already dead….

I can’t take it anymore.

My brothers are going to be furious with me. I’m about to do the worst possible thing, the thing that I’ve kept from Alessandro for five years. I shut my eyes, trying to force my brain into thinking of another option.

Into thinking that I can do anything right now except what I’m about to do.

There’s nothing.

I turn the handle on the door. It’s unlocked since no one thought about me. No one thought I’d barge in like this in a meeting.

The door swings open, and Alessandro and Amara stare at me. Amara’s eyebrows are raised up to her forehead, and Alessandro’s face darkens.

“Alyssa, were you eavesdropping? That’s…”

“Where in Shamong?” I interrupt.

Alessandro bristles. “You were listening. You were spying. You…”

“You have to take me there,” I collapse on my knees. I look up at Alessandro, trying to speak around the tears gathering in my throat. “Please, Alessandro, you have to take me.”

“Get off your knees,” he snaps. “I don’t have to do anything.”

“Please Alessandro…”

“Shut up!”

He reaches down and grabs my arm, hauling me up. He shakes me once, and I flop like a doll in his strong grip. Despite his obvious anger, I don’t feel anything.

All I think is about my daughter.

“Why would I take you anywhere? Why would I do anything for you when you’re spying on me? Is this part of the plan, Alyssa? Spy on us? Ruin us again?”

“Alessandro…” I hear Amara say softly.

“No,” he seethes. He looks livid, and I don’t blame him.

But I don’t care. He can rage at me all he wants.

If he takes me to my baby, I’m happy to bear the brunt of his rage.

“Alessandro. Let her go. You’re hurting her,” Amara barks.

Alessandro looks at where his hand is wrapped around my arm and lets me go. I collapse down, knowing that my arm will bear a handprint-shaped mark there.

I don’t care.

“What do you want with me, Alyssa?”

I look up at Alessandro.

I take a deep breath.

“I need to go to Shamong.”

“What in all the hell is in Shamong for you?”

I shut my eyes.

“Our daughter.”

XXX

Alessandro de Rossi POV

At first, the only word I hear Alyssa say is daughter.

A blind rage fills me. I picture Alyssa giving birth to another man’s child. Pregnant with another man’s child. Being filled with another man’s child.

The betrayal stabs into me, even though logically I know that Alyssa isn’t mine. I let her go five years ago, and that’s all that matters.

But she had another man’s child.

There has been another man in her life.

Nothing makes me angrier.

My blood feels like it’s roaring in my ears. I blink because the image in the room is swimming in front of me. Alyssa’s eyes are filled with tears, and she’s back on her knees again.

When she first fell to them, I had to get her up. I couldn’t stand the vision of her kneeling before me, begging me. It was so blatantly sexual that I had to move her, or I’d be thinking about her in that position for years.

I already pulled her memory up far too often when I needed release. I don’t need to add any more fuel to that fire.

It’s Amara’s screech that makes me realize there’s more.

“Alyssa,” she says, her voice urgent but with a kindness that Amara rarely shows. “What are you saying?”

Alyssa looks at Amara, eyes wide. “Our daughter,” she whispers again.

Daughter.

Our daughter.

Our daughter.

Amara looks at me then, her eyes wide with shock. “Alessandro.”

“What?” I snap.

“Did you hear what she’s saying?”

“I…”

Our daughter.

I do understand then.

The shock that I had previously felt is nothing compared to this. My bones feel rattled. The earth around me shifts, like the world itself, is changed with the knowledge I now have.

I have a child.

I have a daughter.

Alyssa and I have a daughter.

Together.

“How…” my voice trails off as Amara shoots me a glare.

“I’m pretty sure you know how, dumbass,” she snips. Her arms go around Alyssa, who is sobbing in great, silent heaves on the floor.

“Alyssa, hush. You have to help us. You have to tell us more. Where is she? What’s her name? How can we find her?”

Alyssa shakes her head, clearly unused to sharing this information.

My shock dissipates, slowly replaced by something else.

Rage.

“You hid a child from me?” I mutter. The words are little more than a growl. Alyssa looks up at me with vivid fear, and Amara glares at me.

“Alessando,” Amara says with a shake of her head. “Not now.”

Not now.

Not. Now.

“Not now?” I repeat in that same rage-crusted voice. “Not now? If not now, then when, Amara? When was she going to tell me that I had a child? When would she tell me that I was a father? Because clearly it was not going to be now, nor was it going to be ever.”

I’m snarling out my sentences, and Alyssa flinches.

Amara straightens and places herself in between Alyssa and me. “Don’t you dare talk to her like that, Alessandro,” she shoves her finger into my chest.

“I’ll talk to my wife however I damn well please.”

“You will do no such thing,” she jabs her index finger into me again. “She’s terrified and afraid, and if you keep pushing her she’s going to regret her choice and tell you nothing.”

 “Good,” I hiss. “She should regret…”

“Nothing, Alessandro. She should regret nothing. And you’ll do damn well to remember that. Now go. Come back when you’re going to be less of an asshole.”

“I’ll treat my wife however…”

“You will not!” Amara shrieks.

Silence, deafening, blankets the room.

“You will treat her with every ounce of respect that she deserves as a human, Alessandro. I don’t give a fuck if she birthed a hundred children from you and didn’t tell you about one damn kid. I know that our parents did not raise you to toss your wife around because you feel an emotion other than blind rage. Go,” she snaps, flicking her hand at me in dismissal.

“Come back when you’re being less of an ass and more of a man, so we can do what needs to be done. For your child, as well as your wife, you moron.” she snaps.

Somehow in this tirade, Amara has pushed me right back out of the office, and she slams the door in my face.

I blink at the wood.

I need to go rip something apart. I want to cry. To scream. To rage and fight and wage war, all in the name of a feeling and a sensation that I never knew I was capable of.

Truthfully, I don’t know how I should be feeling right now.

I have a child.

And Alyssa is her mother.

But most of all, I didn’t know.

For six years, I didn’t know.

XXX