Chapter 2 Alyssa's Hidden Plan

Alessandro de Rossi POV

I have never put too much thought into being a father. I assumed it was something that would happen with the natural progression of time. Truthfully, I don’t know anything about children. Few of the men who work for me have children yet, and if they do, they keep their families far from their work. In theory, I always knew that I would have to produce children, but in actuality, I have never pursued this.

Not with anyone except…

The memory of Alyssa, Alyssa, beneath the trees at our engagement party, flashes in my mind.

We didn’t use protection. Catherine had been a virgin, and the odds of her getting pregnant on her very first time felt so incredibly low as to be negligible. I shut my eyes and remembered how she had smiled at me.

How she had said if she did have a child with me, she would be happy that they would grow up surrounded by so much family.How my world would be their nanny, and how they would be so loved.

Does my daughter know that she has a father?

Does Alyssa tell her about me?

I snort.

What would she say? Probably her father is a tyrant. That he is a king with an iron fist, who rules a bloody kingdom of mercenaries and thieves.

That’s what I do. That’s who I am.

I know that I am not an easy man or a soft man. I do not make apologies for who I have become. Catherine, when she had me beneath the trees, met a very different man.

Is that why she didn’t tell me about the child? She thought that I was too harsh?

I suppose it doesn’t help that I am her enemy.

A chilling thought comes to me then.

Did Alyssa try to replace me with someone else, and the child calls another man her father?

How old would she be? Alyssa and I created this life six years ago, but I suppose that because she had to remain inside Alyssa’s body, she wouldn’t be six. Five?

A five-year-old daughter.

I pace down the hall. My shoes make a clicking sound against the marble, a steadier beat than my galloping heart.

I can’t believe this is happening to me. That Alyssa had a baby, a girl.

That she’s mine.

It is only then that I remember the context of the moment.  Alyssa wanted to know where in Shamong the arson happened…

My phone is in my hand before I fully realize it.

The child, my child, might be in danger.

I’ve snapped out orders and texts to Nico and Lucas, my two highest attendants, and by the time the door to the office opens, I’m scrolling through a report that Nico put together.

I barrel forward, but Amara stops me. “Do not be a dick, Alessandro.”

“I’ll do what I want,” I growl and push forward.

She punches my chest. Hard. I frown at her. “What was that for?”

“I’m dead fucking serious, brother,” she levels me with a stare that lesser men run from.

She is serious.

I step back and look at her. “What, Amara? You are on board with this betrayal?”

“No. But I’m on board with having a niece.”

I look at her. “What do you mean?”

“She’s raised this baby on her own for five years, Alessadro. She has sole custody. There’s nothing that you can do that will earn youthis relationship, unless you treat her cordially, and prove to her that you have what it takes to be a father.”

“I’m not interested in being a father,” I hiss.

Amara looks at me, and I know that we both know the lie I just told.

“That might be. But I’d kill for a niece. So don’t fuck this up for me,” she says sternly.

“Amara, I…”

“You had a right to know, sure. Whatever. The point is that Alyssa chose to have a baby, raise her, and not tell you a fucking thing. Don’t you want to know why she chose to be a single parent over-parenting with a grumpy old man like you?”

No.

But for my sister, I will pretend. “I won’t fuck it up.”

“Seriously. Don’t even think about being the absolute asshole I know you want to be right now.”

“Amara. I am calm. I am collected. Let me through.”

She raises her eyebrows but moves aside.

Alyssa is sitting on the couch near my window. She’s calmer, but her face is still stained with tears. She is beautiful still, but her beauty is less elegant now, and more haunting.

Her grief and fear are plain on her face, and she looks at Amara like she’s been given a lifeline in an ocean, one that is circling with sharks.

I am the shark. This is even more evident when Alyssa looks at me and her eyes widen with fear.

I do not acknowledge the twinge of guilt that tugs at my chest.

“Alyssa,” I say as calmly as I can.

Still, she flinches.

Less of an asshole, Amara had said.

“May I sit?”

She regards me warily for a moment, then nods.

I pull up the office chair and sit next to her. For a minute, we’re quiet.

Then, I speak.

“I will not ask you why you hid this child from me. I will not ask for a relationship that I have not been given. But Alyssa, this betrayal… it is deep. It is personal.”

“I don’t need you to be part of her life,” she whispers. “I just want to find out if she’s okay.”

I turn to look at her. “Did you think that I would not try to be part of her life?”

Alyssa shrugs. “I don’t know. Men don’t typically want to be fathers, and given the fact that we’re… us… I didn’t think that you would be particularly excited about this.”

My mouth opens, then closes.

“I just want to be left alone,” Alyssa whispers.

The words sting.

I move to business. “Why is she in Shamong?”

“She’s staying with a relative while I… am here with you.”

I frown. “Was the arrangement meant to be permanent?”

Alyssa shrugs. “It was meant to work for now.”

I snort. Well, at least she’s being honest. “The jet is being fueled. Nico, my second, is driving to Shamong right now. He will investigate the fire, and then he will come to meet us at the airport, and if it is her…”

My voice trails off.

Will I be able to comfort Alyssa if the bodies in the rubble include her daughter?

Will I grieve the child I never knew, the possibility of a future that was ripped away from me right as I discovered it?

My eyes shut against an unexpected wave of emotion.

“She has your eyes,” Alyssa whispers.

My gaze snaps to hers. “What did you say?”

“She has your eyes. They look exactly like yours. The eyelashes, in particular,” she says with a tilt of her lips.

 “Even when she was a baby, she had those insane de Rossi eyelashes that made her look like a model. All the old women used to ask me if I put mascara on her. Like I would put mascara on a baby,” she scoffs.

“I know you would not put mascara on a baby,” I say softly.

She laughs. “She was a pretty baby. Always smiling, and with the eyelashes she looked like a doll. I would show you a picture but…” her voice trails off.

She doesn’t have her phone.

Which is why she can’t check on her child, and why we are in this situation to begin with.

I have even less of an idea now about why Alyssa decided to agree to this marriage. Maybe she didn’t agree, and her brothers forced her to do it.

Or maybe she did because she wanted her daughter to be reunited with her father.

That thought sends something of a thrill through me. When I first saw Alyssa at our engagement party all those years ago, I had a similar thought. An impossible future presented itself to me, one in which we were parents.

 A couple. A family.Together.

Was that why she agreed to marry me? To give her child a chance at the family we had planned together?

I wonder what she’s like as a parent. One thing is for certain, I know that she has given her daughter a good life. It’s clear to me that she cares, and loves, very much. That was always true of Alyssa, that her heart has been open and loving, even in her youth.

More than that, it’s clear that Alyssa is a good mother.

I know this in my very soul. The way she talks about the child, it’s vividly clear that she is an excellent mother, and she would do anything for this little girl.

Including risk my wrath.

I suck in a breath. Amara is right. I have treated Alyssa horribly. Every time I look at her a knot of emotion rises in me, and I don’t know how to manage it.

I hate her, because the last time I was so close with her my life fell apart.

I miss her, and her sweet scent, the life we almost had.

I want her. God help me, I still want her more than I’ve wanted any woman in my life.

Alyssa is not an easy subject for me.

But I am likely just as difficult for her.

“Alyssa,” I say softly. I can tell she’s as startled by this development as I am, because her eyes shoot to me, wide with surprise. “What is the child’s name?”

She looks at me for a long, long time before responding.

“Anne. Her name is Anne.”

Anne de Rossi.

And in that moment, my world changes once again.

XXX

Alyssa Russo POV

I can’t decide if it is kindness or torture to be on the plane with Alessandro and his soldiers.

I’m glad that I’ll be there to find Lalaine. When we find her. Emphasis on when, because I can’t bring myself to consider any other option. I’m just happy she will be in my arms once more.

After some negotiation, and a lot of yelling, Amara successfully advocated for me to come. She pointed out that she didn’t want her niece to be traumatized by a bunch of dudes with guns finding her if that is the case, and pointed out that Luna should have her mother there. So she could see someone she trusted.

The words had hit Alessandro hard. The lines of his face had shifted, becoming brittle and hard, and something unspoken had passed between the two of them, but he agreed.

Strangely, I’m fairly grateful for Amara’s intervention. Her presence has been… supportive.

Kind of like I had always imagined it would be to have a big sister.

Having brothers is one thing. They were great, of course. They are great. I wouldn’t trade my brothers for anything in the world, even Joemar Russo, who can be a royal pain in my ass.

But I always wanted a sister.

“Here,” Amara says about halfway through the flight. “Eat.”

I blink and look down at the plate she’s handed me. There’s a classic airline chicken breast that looks like it’s been artfully roasted, a small amount of mashed potatoes, and a side of green beans. I glance up at Amara, who is digging into steak with similar sides.

She grins and gulps down her bite. “Something wrong? I remembered you don’t eat red meat so I thought the chicken would be best.”

She’s right.

I don’t.

But that’s relatively new. I ate red meat as much as the next Italian-American child growing up. After I got pregnant with Anne, I couldn’t stomach it for some reason, and the aversion never went away.

“How did you know that?” I said cautiously.

She snorts. “You refused every red meat dish sent to you at the house in Naples.”

Naples.

The mansion had been in Florida after all. I’m quite sure it wasn’t Naples in Italy, otherwise this would be a significantly longer flight.

Amara arches an eyebrow at me, and I realize two things.

One, she’s waiting for a response.

Two, I think she dropped that little hint on purpose. She’s letting me know that she pays attention to me and that she’s willing to offer some olive branches.

I look at her for a minute longer.

Could be that she’s offering an olive branch.

Could also be that she’s making a threat.

Based on the way she’s inelegantly sawing at her steak though, I think it’s an olive branch. She’s not worried if I registered the threat.

She’s waiting for me to take the branch.

“Anne. When I was pregnant with her, I stopped being able to eat meat,” I offer tentatively.

“All meat?”

“Everything that once had eyes and a brain, yep.”

“Must have been great for your iron intake.”

I bark out a laugh. “I took pills and had to eat spinach at nearly every meal.”

Amara wrinkles her nose in disgust. “There’s no way I’d be able to eat enough spinach to compensate.”

I shrug and take a bite of the chicken. It’s heavenly; perfectly done, perfectly seasoned, and so juicy I immediately have to reach for my napkin.

“You’d be surprised. Your body changes so much when you’re pregnant, it kind of seems like the least of your worries. Plus vomiting every time I came near a butcher shop wasn’t exactly pleasant.”

“I’m sorry.”

I freeze, some of the mashed potatoes halfway up to my mouth. Amara’s looking at me with a completely solemn face, which I know from our short time together isn’t an expression Amara adopts often. “For what?”

“I bet you needed a sister through that.”

I set the fork down. Her apology seems genuine, but I notice that she doesn’t say anything about the elephant in the room.

I also needed my mother.

“I was fine,” I say softly.

Amara’s eyes shine with something that makes my heart squeeze, and I want to take back my words.

But I can’t.

So, I opt for something else.

“The chicken is good. Thank you,” I give her a small smile.

She hesitates for just a minute. Then, her warmth slowly seeps back into her smile. “Glad to see you weren’t put off meat for life.”

“That would be awfully hard. How would I survive any holiday? Or show my face again around Nonna?”

She rolls her eyes. “Don’t get me started. My Nonna is constantly telling me how terrible I am in the kitchen. But honestly,” she throws her hands up in frustration, “how on earth am I supposed to learn to cook anything when the instructions are so bad!”

“Oh, tell me about it. The amount of times I’ve asked ‘how much’ of any ingredient and been told…”

“Enough!” Amara finishes my sentence and laughs.

I smile. “Sounds like our Nonnas get together on the weekends to find ways to torture us.”

“I bet they would. Mine’s sitting in the house in Italy somewhere, dripping in Versace and surrounded by very small dogs. Yours?”

I smile again. “Good try, Amara.”

Her eyes sparkle and she sits back. “I like you, Alyssa.”

“You’ve mentioned that.”

“It’s worth saying again.”

“Why?”

She sighs. She glances back to where Alessandro is sitting, fully engrossed in something on a computer, noise-canceling headphones on. She looks back at me. “Alessandro needs you.”

I snort. “I very much doubt that.”

“He does. He is… I worry about him.”

“He seems to be doing just fine.”

“Alessandro,” she shakes her head. “I am his sister. I know my brother as well as I know myself. When I say you are good for him, I’m not lying to you.”

I glance back at him.

Alessandro looks up from his computer, and his eyes lock with mine. They’re so dark. He and Amara share features on the surface, but the more I’m around them, the more I realize that they’re as different as night and day.

And where Amara is all ‘day’, Alessandro is right.

I turn back and glance at her, giving her a shy smile. “Yeah well. I’m not sure he thinks the same thing.”

She snorts. “He is a man, after all. Sometimes men can’t see what’s good for them.”

I have three brothers. I know exactly the idiocy that she’s talking about.

But I don’t respond. Instead, I carve tiny pieces off of my chicken.

I don’t want to be good for Alessandro. I don’t want to be anything for him.

Because we aren’t anything.

He’s the father of my child. I’m not sure how I’m going to be able to walk away from him now that he knows about her.

There’s no way that I can bring the information on Alessandro back to my brother, now knowing what Alessandro will do to Anne after he finds out.

I have to figure out a way to secure her safety.

And then I’m going to destroy him. And Amara.

The thought turns my stomach and I put the chicken down.

You can do this, Alyssa.

Except, I’m not sure that I can.

XXX