Chapter 6 My Secret Plan

The endearment slips out. I can’t help it. Alyssa gives me a look that could cut glass, but I ignore it. Bambina isn’t an endearment that’s specific to fathers and children. Francesca called Anne Bambina just earlier, so I don’t feel too bad about it.

Alyssa huffs, clearly upset.

If you give me something, I’ll give you something. I silently will her to remember our arrangement. If she grants me this ability to use a tiny endearment on my own child, then I will give her something she wants. I do not know what that is. But if she grants me this, I will also grant her something.

Alyssa seems to consider me. Her eyes are narrow with suspicion, and I pretend not to care.

Anne is eating the cornetti, staring at the two of us.

“April thirteenth.”

The words are so quiet, it takes me nearly a minute to process that they were meant for me. “Pardon?” I look at Alyssa.

“Her birthday. April thirteenth.”

I blink. “That is so close.”

“Yes, I’ll be six!” Anne chimes in, holding up six Nutella-covered fingers.

April thirteenth.

I wonder if they are still with me if we can celebrate. What will Alyssa allow me to get Anne for her birthday?

The thought makes me feel… vulnerable.

I have money. I have power. I have everything in the world that I could give Anne.

But I do not know if Alyssa will accept it.

And if I want to have any relationship with my child, I have to play by her rules.

For now.

After breakfast, Anne begins to… bounce.

I have no other words to describe it.

She seems to vibrate, as though with some kind of energy that I can’t understand. I arch an eyebrow at Alyssa as Anne giggles hysterically. “Is she well?”

Alyssa sighs. “Sugar high. Does this place have a yard or something?”

I snort.

This is a villa. I have curated outdoor spaces. An orchard. A small vineyard. A pool. Acres of cultivated land that we can meander.

I do not simply have a ‘yard’.

Noting my snort, Alyssa throws her hands up in mock surrender. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to insult your giant house. Can she get outside to run some of this off?”

“If that will help, certainly.”

“Great,” Alyssa says as she stands, gathering Lalaine’s hand. “If you just point us in the direction, Anne and I can go.”

“May I attend?”

I realize that this gives me two favors, and Alyssa has not asked for one in return yet.

I think she realizes this as well. Her head tilts and she considers me for a minute.

“Mommy, let Mr. Mommy’s friend come with us! I don’t know where anything is. Does he have a playground?”

I open my arms in a shrug and look at Catherine. “Mr. Mommy’s friend does know his way around.”

She rolls her eyes. “Fine. Show us out to where we need to go.”

I try not to congratulate myself on my victory.

We set off down the hall, Anne buzzing and fluttering in front of us as we go. Alyssa is dead silent. I point out some of the features of the house, hoping to get some interest out of her.

Nothing.

Outside, I decide to lead them to the sculpture garden. It isn’t a playground, but I would be happy to let Anne climb on the statues.

It’s not like they’re priceless or anything.

The walk has the benefit of being quite a long one as well. Perhaps on the way, I will learn what Alyssa is going to ask of me in return for what I have asked of her.

We’re almost to the sculpture garden when she finally speaks. “So, if it wasn’t you, who organized the hit on Nonna Mia and Anne?”

I don’t tell her what my initial suspicion was, which was that Joemar had faked the entire thing in order to find a way to blame me for it.

“I am not certain,” I say slowly instead. I don’t know how much Alyssa knows of the world that Joemar and I live in. I know that she likely understands some of what the two of us go through on a daily basis. She is, after all, a direct consequence of the games we play.

I pretend the thought doesn’t hurt.

I stop to regard Alyssa for a second. She’s staring at me with the same guileless expression that Anne often adopts.

Alyssa honored me with truths. She has given me two wins today as I work to earn the title of Anne’s father.

I should do the same for her.

“There has been an unusual amount of motorcycle gang activity in the area,” I say slowly. I won’t tell her that I suspect Marco of the act, because that will be interpreted as a cheap shot.

“Motorcycle gang?”

I shrug. Anne has reached the sculpture garden, and with a delighted shriek, she sprints up to one of the statues. “Look!” she trills.

I see Alyssa start, but I hold out a hand. “The statue is not even five feet off the ground.”

“She could fall…”

“We have doctors in Italy. The ground is grass. She will be okay.”

“But if she breaks the statue…”

“I will buy another.”

Alyssa sighs. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you wanted to know more about the motorcycle gang.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “Fair. Fine. Tell me about the bikers.”

“I’m afraid there is not too much to share,” I say idly as Lalaine clambers all over the marble sculpture of a horse and rider. “Motorcycle gangs are guns for hire.”

“Cheap ones, too,” she murmurs.

I arch an eyebrow. “How do you know that?”

“I’m a woman, Alessandro. I’m not an idiot.”

“Did Joemar share things with you?”

She doesn’t answer.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Never mind. What you and Joemar discuss is not my business. But the fact that you know that motorcycle gangs are, in fact, quite inexpensive leads me to believe you know they are often unreliable.”

“Money only buys so much loyalty, until someone else can buy more.”

“Did your brothers teach you that as well?”

She turns to look at me and sighs once more. “No, Alessandro. That one I know all on my own.”

With that, Alyssa walks forward to where Anne is gesturing wildly for her to come look at something.

I watch the pair of them. Alyssa glows around Anne, certainly. But I realize as I look that her look is not the only reason I can’t keep my eyes off of her.

The Alyssa I knew was a beautiful girl. Pretty, sweet. The perfect fiancé.

This Alyssa is a woman. Strong. Smart. Powerful.

And I realize in my heart that where she once was the perfect fiancé, now she is something else entirely.

The perfect wife.

Except that she will never be mine.

XXX

Alyssa Russo POV

If I can just pretend that this is a vacation in Italy, I feel a lot better.

It’s just a vacation.

The weather is gorgeous, even this late in January. The Italian sun beams down on us, and combined with the heated pool, it’s a great temperature out.

Alessandro’s estate is gorgeous. Tan travertine tile covers an expansive outdoor area that overlooks fields of grapes and wheat in the rolling hills beyond.

The house stands behind us, a silent sentinel as we relax out next to the aquamarine pool. There’s a couple of lounge chairs, wicker, like an old-fashioned resort, and I’ve parked our stuff here every day for the last few days.

Occasionally, Francesca pops out to bring us some snacks or drinks, or just laugh as Anne splashes around.

Yeah, I can do this. I can pretend. Just Lalaine and I lounging by the pool. Just me helping Lalaine remember her swim lessons, so that next summer, she can indeed swim without the little water wings that I anxiously put on her every time.

Just me, Anne, and…

Well.

My sister-in-law, Amara.

“You know, any one of the guys would love to play with her in the pool,” Amara says as she stretches out on the sun lounger next to me.

I eye her muscular body with just a hint of envy. Despite being five years older than me, Amara is in incredible shape. She looks like she can benchpress a small truck, but in her tiny Chanel one-piece, she also manages to look elegant and sexy.

I’m petite naturally, but I haven’t worked out in years, so where Amara is covered in dense muscle, I’m more… soft. I have big boobs and a thick ass for my size, and neither one of those things survived having a child without growing slightly more.

I snort at her comment. “Yeah, sure. Have you run background checks on any of them? The average child molester will have one hundred and seventeen victims in their lives, you know.”

“Well yeah, actually. The ones who are here for you and Anne I did background checks in the US and in Italy. Not that the Italian background check process is good,” she mutters.

“Fuckers can get themselves a whole new identity for ten bucks and a bottle of wine.”

I blink at her from behind my sunglasses. “Gina. Did you really?”

Amara straightens up on her elbows and pulls down her oversized shades. “Duh. You think I’d let any of these meatheads within ten feet of my niece and sister-in-law?”

I open my mouth and then close it again.

I don’t know how to answer that.

“Besides, I had already decided to change the policy on hiring them anyway. I’m not about to have soldiers who can’t be trusted around kids. This is a family business, you know?”

Her smile is infectious. I can’t help but return it. “Amara, you do know that you’re part of a mafia family, right?”

“As I said…” She smirked, settling her sunglasses back on her face and relaxing into the chair. “A family business.”

I laugh. “You… you’re pretty funny.”

“Oh, thank you Alyssa! I do try for comedic relief around here. Brady certainly isn’t going to do it.”

That makes me pause.

I eye Amara, wondering how much I can trust her. I’m dying to ask more about Alessandro, and her, and their family. I’m curious about them. How did they end up like this, with Amara the jokester, and Alessandro the…Well. The grump.

My heart skips a beat.I don’t want to find out more. I need to find out more.

So that I can report back to Joemar who killed our parents.

And get the hell out of here.

Guilt worms through me. Amara has been so good to me, and to Lalaine. She’s clearly in charge of all of Alessandro's covert operations like Sandro is for our family, but she’s also been remarkably honest since I ended up with her daily.

Do I trust her?

I look over at her.

Amara's beautiful. She’s strong, she’s not afraid to speak her mind or call people out on their bullshit. For the millionth time, I think about how much I would have liked to have her as an older sister.

She’s been good to us.

Perhaps she can be a potential ally as we try to escape. Maybe if I can get Amara to help, there can be another way out of this situation. One that doesn’t involve Joemar and Alessandro killing each other.

One that tells us the truth about how both of our parents died.

For a while now, I’ve been having doubts about the story that Joemar believes is true. He’s pretty sure that, all those years ago after they left the engagement party, Alessandros goons had rigged our parent’s car to explode. They didn’t realize that Brady’s parents would be in the car behind, or that it would catch fire easily, killing both sets of families at once.

Given everything I’ve seen lately, I’m not sure that’s true.

For one, Alessandro and Amara are ridiculously meticulous about everything they do. Even if Alessandro had ordered someone to put a bomb in my mom and dad’s car, there’s no way that he would have missed the detail of how big of a bomb it was, and he wouldn’t have had Gina know precisely where his parents were going to drive home.

Also, I know my brother. Joemar is about a thousand percent more emotional than Alessandro. It’s highly possible that, given the situation, he jumped to conclusions.

This leads me to believe that we need to be working together to figure out who killed our parents.

Not separately.

However, knowing both Alessandro and Joemar, there’s no way either one of them is going to believe that what I have to say is true.

Amara, however, already has Alessandro’s ear. She’s his sister and she’s in charge of all of his covert stuff.

I think there might be an opportunity here.

From the sun chair next to me, Luna releases a snore.

Good.

I can talk without being afraid that she’ll misunderstand me or ask questions about something that I’m not ready to answer yet.

“How come you and Alessandro are so…?” I pause, unsure of how to phrase the question I want to ask.

“Different?” Amara supplies.

“Yeah, that’s one way to say it.” I nod.

She sighs. “Lots of reasons. Genetically, we’re similar, but we’re opposite personalities.”

“You don’t say.”

She laughs at me. “Okay, I know. That one is pretty obvious. But it’s for a good reason. Alessandro had to grow up fast, and I’ve had to fight my way to the top to get anything remotely resembling the respect I deserve.”

God, that’s so real.

Even to have my own brothers, who I love so much, see me as a real person is a struggle. There’s a lot of misogyny in our families, and even though all of my brothers pride themselves on being ‘modern’ men who think I can do the same things that they do in terms of my mobility, not one of them is willing to listen to my opinion when it comes to the family or the business.

Hence why Joemar hadn’t listened to my pleas when I had begged him about making me marry Alessandro.

In his mind, he was doing something good for everyone. For me, for the family… everyone.

Too bad he had been more than just a little wrong.

 “You’ve done a good job,” I say slowly. “Alessandro and the others seem to respect you.”

“Alessandro, yes. I’ve done plenty to earn his respect, and he’s done plenty to earn mine. The others… well…” She flashes me what I now know to be one of her signature toothy grins. “They’ve learned the hard way not to fuck with me.”

“How… did you do that?” I ask, genuinely curious.

Her eyes look like they could spark. “You should ask Sal.”

“Sandro, my brother?” I’m perplexed. The words genuinely don’t make any sense.

“Yeah. Enzo Russo,” she practically purrs.

“Why would Enzo specifically know anything about your reputation?”

“He’s never mentioned me?”

I shake my head. “No, not that I’m aware of, and he’s definitely the closest to me, in age and in relationship.”

“Hmm.” Amara purses her lips, and for a minute she looks a little bit perplexed like the information doesn’t align with what she had previously thought. “Interesting.”

“I’ll ask, the next time I see him,” I assure her.

Ugh.

I’m not sure when that will be, and the thought hits me in my stomach like a sucker punch.

“You do that,” Amara says, her mood lightening again.

XXX