Amber’s pov: Alessandro pulls over and I tilt my head scanning the location. “This place looks like it was artificially created using a hologram,” I tell him as he unfastens his seatbelt. He does mine as well. “Uh-huh,” he says as he steps out of the vehicle. “Is this place yours?” I question as we walk towards a tiny cabin hidden amongst tall trees. “No,” he says, taking my hand in his. Alessandro knocks on the door. He intertwines our fingers. A middle-aged woman opens the door, greeting us with a smile. “Amber, this is Anna Solem. Anna, as promised, this is my wife, Amber Bianchi,” Alessandro says. “Anna, it’s so nice to meet you,” I smile at her, “How is everything now?” I question. “It’s fine, my sister, Maria Rosela, is doing much better,” she explains, “Now, now, this place is for sale since Maria’s planning to move out of the country. However, it seems like no one wants to live in an isolated area of the island, because despite being for sale for the past month, it hasn
Two Weeks Later Alessandro’s pov: “And done!” I hear Amber exclaim behind me as she drops the last box on the floor. “Mrs. Bianchi, you sound like you did all the work,” I tease her hoping to receive a sassy response. “I did a lot of work,” she exhaled sharply. “I mean, three boxes and three steps are a lot,” I tell her. She groans and strikes a pat on my back. I chuckle. Then, I turn around and say, “I can’t believe we made it.” Amber stands next to me and intertwines our digits. "Me neither," she utters. "We certainly made the right choice," she says. I nod. My eyes roam to the kitchen counter. "I can't wait to see you on top of that counter," I utter making Amber roll her eyes, saying, "And there goes the moment." I chuckle. She picks up the box and walks up the stairs to settle things around the place. At the housewarming ceremony, when Richard mentioned Maria's house in Canoli, I knew that we had to check it out, but I never knew that it'd turn out to be such a blessing.
Amber’s pov: I hear Alessandro hum as he walks out of the bathroom with a toothbrush in his mouth. I chuckle and that catches his attention. He rushes back into the washroom, goes on about his unfinished business, and then comes out. “Tesoro, I missed you,” he kisses me. His breath is minty and cool. “It’s just been two hours since I’ve been out of your sight,” I manage to say between his gentle pecks. “There’s something that I would like to discuss,” he says, his tone dropping from bubbly to serious. “Sure, what is it that you’d like to discuss?” I ask him. He takes a seat on the bed next to me. “The one time that we spoke about children, you told me that you didn’t know what you wanted with them. I’d like to ask you the same question now…” he doesn’t look into my eyes as he speaks. “I would like to have children, but someday in the future, as of now, the art gallery is my baby, our baby,” I tell him, my hand wrapped around his shoulder. “I’m glad to know that we’re on the sam
As he pulls out a pair of guns hidden inside his coat, all that Amber Williams can think of is her mother. The one that she lost fifteen years ago because of a tragic incident. The scene of the man pointing the gun seems all too familiar, but not in a good way. Her breathing rate spikes up, and her hands are clammy. As the bullets leave the guns, the noise startles her. She crouches down to the ground and covers her ears as tightly as she can. She can hear her heart pounding out of her chest. The incident from her past replays in her head continuously: She was eight years old and had just returned from summer camp. She aligned her shoes on the shoe rack and dropped her bag on the couch. She anticipated her mother’s arrival and yearned for her hugs and kisses, but that did not happen. After five minutes, she heard her mother scream. Amber traced the sound and reached the guest bedroom. The door was locked from the inside and the windows were tightly shut. All that little Amber could
Twelve hours ago: Amber’s pov: “Sasha, my darling, Sam will be coming over with his father today, both his looks and his pockets are attractive…” I hear my stepmother, Gretchen Williams, from downstairs. She clinks her glass of champagne with her daughter, Sasha Williams. I hop down the stairs, my hands tracing the railings that run parallel to me thinking about how Sasha will have to follow in her mother’s footsteps into becoming the next gold-digger in line. I say, “Good morning, Gretchen.” Trying my best to sound nice. Her response was, “Oh, sweetheart, you are up early. Got any new art show to attend today?” I know very well that if I respond with a “yes” I will be inviting my doom, so I just shake my head in the negative and grab my plate with assorted fruits. I eat, hurriedly, because I’ve got an art event to attend. Running up the stairs, I pack my bag, take a quick cold shower, dress up and run back down. Gretchen, in a sugarcoated sweet tone, says, “Sweetheart, where are
Alessandro’s pov:Damn it. Bloody Santino Martino is interfering with the trade again. I turn around and shoot the dead man on the ground, for the twentieth time because he deserves it. He is a renowned member of their gang, and he had come here to finish me off, but things don't always work out the way you want them to. They are involved in human trafficking and other illegal practices. I have refrained our family from such involvement. I don’t know why I picked this woman up, but something in me asked me not to leave her there. I drop her in my convertible shotgun and tend to my wounds. It hurts, but I can tolerate it. One-third of my body is in bandages right now, and a few more, and I might as well audition for the role of a mummy. I buckle up my passenger, tightly and wrap her in a huge shirt to keep her warm. As I look at her, I sense familiarity. I think I’ve seen her before. Nevertheless, I hit the road and swerved my car recklessly. My mother always told me that anger was
Amber’s pov: “I’m sorry, I think I misheard you, could you repeat yourself?” I ask the tall man in front of me. He, still unbothered and expressionless, says, “I need you to be my wife.” Is he out of his mind? Thinking about what happened yesterday, the scene still haunts me. His eyes looked dark and monster-like, and the way he…He sh..shot the other man who was cold-blooded. I look up at him and when my eyes meet his, I notice a hint of pain hidden in his eyes behind his long lashes. His curly black hair accentuates his sharp facial features. I say, “No deal.” As I start to walk away, his hand snakes my waist and he turns me to face him. My back hurts a little as it is pressed against the well-carved white doorframe. He says in his deep, husky voice, “Look, Amber, I am offering you the deal of a lifetime. You can run your art gallery in peace, and all you have to do in return is pretend to be my wife, only at charity events or some balls and sometimes, around my family.” His gr
Amber's pov: He heads back inside and leaves me in the cold, his words repeating in my head. I walk into the house after a few minutes. Tesoro? I rest my head on the silky cushions laying on the bed of the guestroom pondering Alessandro's behavior. He seems to be completely different than I'd expected. I thought that he would be the typical cold-hearted and angry mob boss, but he portrayed himself to be rather sweet. With these thoughts, I doze off. The following day: "Amber, we've got to go." I heard a voice, and I replied without opening my heavy eyelids, "Mhmm...Five more minutes." "No, sit up, right now." The voice asserts its dominance. I groaned but obeyed it and then, opened my eyes. It was Alessandro. His muscular body was highlighted by the tight, blue suit sitting on him, and one of his large hands carried a thick silver watch that looked like it cost a fortune. "Don't order me around!" I snap. Alessandro smirks at me, then says, "Tesoro, get used to it, you're my wife
Amber’s pov: I hear Alessandro hum as he walks out of the bathroom with a toothbrush in his mouth. I chuckle and that catches his attention. He rushes back into the washroom, goes on about his unfinished business, and then comes out. “Tesoro, I missed you,” he kisses me. His breath is minty and cool. “It’s just been two hours since I’ve been out of your sight,” I manage to say between his gentle pecks. “There’s something that I would like to discuss,” he says, his tone dropping from bubbly to serious. “Sure, what is it that you’d like to discuss?” I ask him. He takes a seat on the bed next to me. “The one time that we spoke about children, you told me that you didn’t know what you wanted with them. I’d like to ask you the same question now…” he doesn’t look into my eyes as he speaks. “I would like to have children, but someday in the future, as of now, the art gallery is my baby, our baby,” I tell him, my hand wrapped around his shoulder. “I’m glad to know that we’re on the sam
Two Weeks Later Alessandro’s pov: “And done!” I hear Amber exclaim behind me as she drops the last box on the floor. “Mrs. Bianchi, you sound like you did all the work,” I tease her hoping to receive a sassy response. “I did a lot of work,” she exhaled sharply. “I mean, three boxes and three steps are a lot,” I tell her. She groans and strikes a pat on my back. I chuckle. Then, I turn around and say, “I can’t believe we made it.” Amber stands next to me and intertwines our digits. "Me neither," she utters. "We certainly made the right choice," she says. I nod. My eyes roam to the kitchen counter. "I can't wait to see you on top of that counter," I utter making Amber roll her eyes, saying, "And there goes the moment." I chuckle. She picks up the box and walks up the stairs to settle things around the place. At the housewarming ceremony, when Richard mentioned Maria's house in Canoli, I knew that we had to check it out, but I never knew that it'd turn out to be such a blessing.
Amber’s pov: Alessandro pulls over and I tilt my head scanning the location. “This place looks like it was artificially created using a hologram,” I tell him as he unfastens his seatbelt. He does mine as well. “Uh-huh,” he says as he steps out of the vehicle. “Is this place yours?” I question as we walk towards a tiny cabin hidden amongst tall trees. “No,” he says, taking my hand in his. Alessandro knocks on the door. He intertwines our fingers. A middle-aged woman opens the door, greeting us with a smile. “Amber, this is Anna Solem. Anna, as promised, this is my wife, Amber Bianchi,” Alessandro says. “Anna, it’s so nice to meet you,” I smile at her, “How is everything now?” I question. “It’s fine, my sister, Maria Rosela, is doing much better,” she explains, “Now, now, this place is for sale since Maria’s planning to move out of the country. However, it seems like no one wants to live in an isolated area of the island, because despite being for sale for the past month, it hasn
One Week Later “Anna?” Alessandro asks, his phone on speaker. “Yes, Alessandro, it’s me,” she replies. “Richie and I are planning to host a party in honor of purchasing our first house together, and we would love it if you and your family could be a part of it,” Anna tells Alessandro. “Thank you for the invite, I will talk to my wife and let you know about it immediately,” Alessandro lets her know as he cleans the countertop with a cloth. “How’re you? How’s Richard?” Alessandro asks. Anna replies in the positive. They converse for a few more minutes before the call ends. “Tesoro,” Alessandro rings up Amber. “Yes, my love?” She replies. Alessandro’s lips curl into a soft smile. “Anna Solem is hosting a housewarming party and she has invited us..” Alessandro is cut off as Amber says, “Can Bee come with us?” Alessandro replies, “I’ll ask her.” Amber feels relieved and worried at the same time. “Don’t worry, Tesoro, it’ll be alright,” Alessandro assured her. Amber’s pov: Bee will un
“Harlow, regardless of all that had been going down behind the scenes, you have always been a good brother to me. I always looked up to you and learned so much from you. These twenty years have been one hell of a ride of emotions…” Alessandro lets out a sigh, “And I’d hate for you to die.” Harlow scoffs. “Even after all that I’ve done, you’re trying to make it seem like I’m not the bad guy, this is another reason why you were never a successful capo,” Harlow utters. Alessandro shakes his head, then says, “Maybe I was never meant to be one, Harlow.” Alessandro holds Harlow’s reluctant hand in his for a few seconds and then rests it back on his chest. “Goodbye, brother,” Alessandro utters and walks back to Amber. They then drive back home. On the way back, the taxi ride is filled with silence until Alessandro’s phone rings. “Ken?” Alessandro mutters. “Harlow had infiltrated your security system in every possible way, but I’ve got it back on track now, you and Amber have a great securi
“Alessandro,” Amber sniffles. “I missed you,” she mutters. Alessandro and Amber hold each other close, without a care for the world around them. Alessandro pulls her closer, but the closeness isn’t enough, not after all these days of separation. “Tesoro,” Alessandro whispers, “How’re you?” “I’m fine now, Alessandro. Now that you’re by my side…” Amber sniffles. Tears cloud Alessandro’s vision as he buries his head in the crook of Amber’s neck. “My heart nearly stopped as Harlow blurted those words, Tesoro,” Alessandro uttered. “Lucky for you, I’m still alive,” she chuckles as she pulls away from Alessandro’s embrace. He wipes her tears away and she does the same for him. “Let’s wrap this up,” she utters as she walks close to an injured Harlow. Alessandro walks close to Harlow and glares at him. Harlow, as expected, laughs, his laugh echoing through their ear walls. “Both of you are equally pathetic, emotional fools, perfect for one another, truly a match made in heaven and hell
Alessandro’s pov: I stand there in silence. Knowing that words would do nothing to add to the moment. Harlow jerks me back even further. I don’t resist, a million thoughts flow through my mind. What if he harms Amber? What if he harms Ken? What if he- My what-ifs are cut off as soon as Harlow pushes me one final time and I feel the water at my feet. “Why?” The only question that can leave my lips. Harlow scoffs and turns his back to me. He walks a few steps straight ahead. “Why?” He whispers. I could feel his smirk grow. “Why?! I should’ve asked dad that when he assigned you, the younger brother, the role of capo when I was far more capable,” Harlow utters. I remain calm as he continues, “Alessandro Bianchi, the capo of the Bianchis…Ever since father uttered those words, I was set on proving him wrong, but how unfortunate is it that he died before he could understand anything?” “Alessandro, before you stands not only the one who separated you from the love of your life for the
Thank you so much to all those readers who have made it this far. The support has been a great motivation for me to continue my writing venture. Your comments and votes are a constant source of motivation. Thank you once again. The story of Mr. & Mrs. Bianchi will be coming to an end in the next five to six chapters. Don’t miss the climax ;)And I hope that all of you cried, laughed and felt butterflies throughout the story. I’m open to suggestions, so feel free to let me know what can be implemented or improved.I hope that all of you are happy and healthy.Happy Reading!
Alessandro’s pov: “Brother, I need you. One last time, like the old times,” Harlow utters. “What for?” I question, my confusion genuine. “Let’s watch the destruction of Santino Martino, together,” Harlow says, surprising me with his words. “What do you mean?” I pretend to act a fool. “I will let you in on the details, where are you right now?” Harlow questions. “I’m at my workplace,” I lie. “Great, I’ll be there in twenty,” he ends the call with that. “What was that all about?” Ken questions me. “I’ve got no idea, but it’s time to find out,” I tell him as I adjust my tie and roll down my sleeves. “You’ve got no security with you,” Ken says. “I know, it’ll be a one-man show from my end,” I tell him. “That’s stupid, Alessandro, at least take a gun,” Ken hands me my shotgun, one that I haven’t touched since I shot Santino’s brother. “No, Ken. I’ll be fine,” I let him know. He rolls his eyes at me saying, “You’re walking into your doom.” “Maybe I am, maybe it’s what I deserve for ki