5
Alaric’s POV
Emilia had surprised me, and it took a lot to do that. Most people I dealt with were quick to nod, to obey, and to walk away as fast as they could manage. But Emilia? No, she had come back with demands of her own. The moment she’d lifted her chin, fire in her eyes, and laid out her terms, I’d felt an unexpected flicker of admiration.
I watched her closely from my office, just across the hall. Through the glass door, I could see her kneeling on the floor, surrounded by a sea of crayons and papers, fully engaged in whatever imaginary world my daughter had conjured up. Francesca had always been spirited, a handful even on her best days, but in Emilia’s presence, she softened. She was calm, happy even, and that made me feel lighter.
Emilia was resourceful. She didn’t waste time coddling Francesca, but instead, she encouraged her to express herself, to chatter away about every little thought that crossed her mind. She listened intently, nodding at all the right times, reacting with genuine interest. And she was good at it. No one else could hold my daughter’s attention like that for so long.
A low chuckle escaped me. It was odd to feel amusement while simply observing them. Most of my day was filled with numbers, territory disputes, or the kind of tasks that kept my organization running smoothly. But right now, the scene in front of me seemed like something out of a storybook: Emilia, the girl who’d dared to strike a deal with a mafia don, sitting on the floor like a makeshift princess, entertaining my daughter with a sincerity that made me almost forget how we’d ended up here.
But I couldn’t afford to let my guard down. Not yet. Emilia was here under my terms—mostly, anyway—and I needed to know that she would hold up her end. Despite her fire, there was something vulnerable about her. That vulnerability, the desperation I’d glimpsed when she’d negotiated, had only sharpened my curiosity.
When I assured myself that Emilia won’t run off in the night, with my daughter, I walked back to my desk and buried myself in work.
I had woken up in the office this morning, and gone to Francesca’s room, the normal routine, only to find she and Emilia all cuddled up on Francesca’s bed. I had left them there and gone back to my office. And now I was watching them.
Emilia was attentive to Francesca’s every need, guiding her to breakfast, reminding her to brush her hair, even laughing at her silly little jokes. She’d taken to the role naturally, as if she’d done it a hundred times before, and Francesca thrived on her attention. I didn’t miss the way her laughter filled the halls, a sound I hadn’t realized I’d missed.
After breakfast, I made my way downstairs, passing Allesio in the hallway. “Any issues with Emilia?” I asked, keeping my voice low.
Allesio shook his head. “None, boss. She’s… good with Francesca. Surprisingly good.”
I gave him a nod, though I already knew it myself. “Have a car ready in an hour. I’ll need you to drive me somewhere.”
“Yes, boss.”
Once the hour passed, I was seated in the backseat of one of our cars, Allesio at the wheel, weaving through the early morning traffic of the city. I wasn’t usually one to check up on people; it wasn’t my style. But Emilia’s situation was unique, and if I was going to keep my end of the bargain, I wanted to see the details myself.
Soon, we pulled up to the hospital where her brother was admitted. I’d had the information about his condition sent over to me the previous evening—suffice it to say, it was a grim situation. As we stepped out, the brisk morning air hit me, and I adjusted my coat, bracing myself against the sterile chill of the hospital halls.
Inside, everything smelled faintly of antiseptic. People moved about quietly, heads down, preoccupied with their own worries. This world of waiting rooms and beeping monitors was unfamiliar to me, and it wasn’t a place I would normally find myself. But for today, I made an exception.
I found his room easily enough. Her brother lay on the bed, hooked up to a myriad of machines, pale and unconscious. I couldn’t imagine what it would feel like, day in and day out, to visit someone you cared about in a place like this, to watch them fade, helpless to change their situation.
A nurse entered quietly, barely sparing me a glance as she checked his vitals. I turned to her, clearing my throat. “What’s his current condition?”
She looked up, startled to see me standing there. “Are you family?” Her voice was skeptical, but I could see her curiosity warring with her professionalism.
“In a manner of speaking,” I replied, my voice calm.
She hesitated, then glanced back at the guy. “He’s stable, for now. But without the proper treatment, his condition will only deteriorate. It’s a question of time.”
Time, I mused. For me, time was always on my side. I could buy it, bend it, use it to my advantage. For Emilia, time was the enemy. She’d watched it slip away, tightening the noose around her brother’s fate. And that, I supposed, was why she’d agreed to work for me.
I looked back at the guy, his features soft and vulnerable against the harsh lines of the hospital bed. This was why Emilia had negotiated so fiercely, why she’d dared to challenge me. She hadn’t asked for luxury or comfort—only for her brother’s chance at life.
It struck me then that she wasn’t like the others who’d tried to bargain with me. She didn’t care for wealth or power. Her only currency was love, and she’d traded everything she had for it.
“Thank you,” I said to the nurse, who seemed surprised by my words but nodded nonetheless. I watched her leave before stepping closer to the bed, studying the guy one last time.
Then, without another word, I turned and walked back out into the hallway, signaling Allesio to follow. “Handle the bills,” I instructed him as we made our way back to the car. “Everything he needs. And make sure there’s no issue with his treatment moving forward.”
Allesio didn’t hesitate. “Yes, boss.”
As the car started back toward my home, I leaned back, contemplating. I’d kept my end of the deal, and I knew Emilia would keep hers. But as I thought about her, standing her ground in my office with that determined look in her eye, I realized something unexpected—I admired her stubbornness and determination.
The woman had guts, a fierce loyalty that burned brighter than anything I’d seen in a long time.
By the time I arrived back at my estate, the house was quiet. Francesca was likely still engaged with her morning activities, and Emilia would be by her side, guiding her, laughing with her.
As I approached Francesca’s playroom, I caught sight of them through the partially open door. Emilia sat on the floor, cross-legged, her focus entirely on my daughter as they worked on some kind of art project together. Francesca’s head was bent low in concentration, and Emilia’s smile was soft, genuine, as she guided my daughter’s small hands through the motions.
Watching them, I felt a pang of… something I couldn’t quite identify. It wasn’t jealousy or longing, but a recognition of what Francesca had missed, what I had kept away from her all these years.
Emilia was exactly what Francesca needed, even if she didn’t know it yet. She’d give Francesca the stability I had never been able to provide, and she’d do it with the same fierce determination that had driven her to negotiate with me in the first place.
As I remained by the door, watching them, I realized something: Emilia might be here because of our agreement, but she wasn’t just a pawn. She was a formidable piece on the board, one I intended to keep close. There was strength in her, an unwavering loyalty, and I knew that, as long as her brother’s life depended on me, that loyalty would extend to Francesca as well.
Turning away from the doorway, I headed back to my office. I had a business – an empire – to run, and while the warmth of that scene tugged at some forgotten corner of my mind, I knew better than to dwell on it.
I walked into my office and slammed the door shut.
Emilia was under my protection now, for better or worse. And as long as she held up her end, I would ensure her brother was taken care of, no questions asked. But this wasn’t charity—this was an agreement, one I expected her to uphold without hesitation.
And if she ever forgot the term s, well… I’d be there to remind her.
But somehow, I didn’t think she would.
6Emilia’s POV. The moment Alaric walked into the room, his presence overpowered me, clouding my senses, and I knew it was only a matter of time before I lost my wits and became clumsy around him. It was a strange thing, to be both grateful and cautious around him, like standing in front of a storm—beautiful from a distance, but dangerous up close. He stood across from me, a small, self-satisfied smile playing at his lips, and when he spoke, his words stopped me in my tracks.“I’ve taken care of your brother’s bills,” he said, casually, as if he hadn’t just thrown a lifeline to the person I loved most in the world.For a second, I couldn’t speak. My throat tightened, my heart raced, and all I could think was that Matteo was safe—that Alaric, despite being the cold, impenetrable man he was, had actually kept his word. I felt tears prick the back of my eyes, and I pressed a hand to my mouth, trying to gather myself.“Thank you, Alaric. Really, I…” My voice broke, and I looked down, sud
7Alaric’s POV I stepped into the house, a frown forming on my face at how quiet the house was. And it made me very very uneasy. Normally, by the time I stepped through the door, Francesca’s laughter would echo down the hall, and I’d catch glimpses of Emilia chasing her around, a small, stubborn smile always tugging at her lips. But tonight, it was so quiet, almost as if something was wrong.I hung my coat by the door and glanced around, half-expecting Emilia to appear, carrying Francesca in her arms or perhaps ushering her to bed. But instead, when I found them, Emilia barely looked up. She sat with Francesca on the couch, brushing through her silver hair with a gentleness that looked at odds with how stiff her shoulders were.“Daddy!” Francesca squealed, but she didn’t get up from the couch, keeping still as Emilia continued brushing her hair. I grinned at her in reply.“Good evening,” I said, keeping my voice even as I stepped closer. Emilia didn’t respond. Not immediately, anyway
8Emilia’s POV. It was very quiet morning as I took care of Francesca, a peaceful kind of silence that I didn’t often experience in this house. She was babbling on the living room rug, caught up in her own little world with her toys spread out in front of her. Her tiny fingers reached for blocks, stacking them with a level of concentration I couldn’t help but smile at. Moments like these were rare, and as her nanny, I’d come to savor each one.I leaned forward to help her with stacking the bloks, but then a sharp voice – Alaric’s voice – cut through the silence. I tensed at the roughness in his fone. I didn’t know who he was talking to but the way his words bounced off the walls, sharp and intense, made it clear that he was anything but pleased.“…I’ve told you before, I don’t want excuses,” he said, his voice filtering through the slightly open door. “If this can’t be resolved by tonight, I’ll find someone who can do it properly. I don’t have time for incompetence.”Francesca looked
9Alaric’s POV. Watching Francesca, I couldn’t ignore the shift in her over the past few days. Since Emilia had come into our lives, my daughter had started to smile more, her laughter echoing through the house in ways I hadn’t heard in far too long. She was brighter, more joyful, and that alone made me feel less stressed. It was like a burden if some sort had been lifted off my shoulders.With Emilia at the hospital today, seeing her brother through surgery, I’d decided to take the day off to spend it with Francesca. Work could wait for once. My daughter needed me, and I wanted to give her something real—something beyond my often-busy, distracted self. Besides, it wasn’t often that I saw her this happy. She deserved this, even if just for the day.We spent the morning in the playroom, surrounded by her favorite toys. Francesca had an impressive collection, courtesy of my attempts to keep her entertained in my absence, but none of them seemed to bring her the joy that she got from si
10Emilia’s POV. I paced outside the operating room, my stomach twisted into anxious knots, and my hands clasped tightly together as if the sheer force of my grip could channel all my fears and hopes for Matteo’s surgery. The hours felt endless, every minute stretching painfully, as though time itself was punishing me. I had done all I could, but that was the agonizing part. I couldn’t do anything now but wait.“Please, let him be okay,” I whispered, closing my eyes tightly, willing away the panic rising in my chest. My mind replayed every memory I had with Matteo, from his infectious laugh to his stubborn refusal to let life break him. He deserved a chance. A chance to live, to be free of this pain. I couldn’t imagine a life without him.The hall was quiet except for the occasional footsteps of nurses and the quiet beep of machines from nearby rooms. I watched each figure passing by, hoping it was a doctor coming to give me news, but every time, they walked past me without a second
11Alaric’s POV Entering the office that morning, I was already in a volatile mood. The deal with the Morales family had barely survived the night, thanks to one of my men making the kind of error I couldn’t let slide. Everything I’d built depended on loyalty, precision, and control. Mistakes like his weren’t just errors; they were weaknesses.He sat across the desk from me now, visibly shaking as he waited for me to speak. I paced behind my desk, keeping my voice level despite the anger simmering underneath.“Explain to me how it was possible for you to misplace something as crucial as the delivery details?” I asked, voice low but firm.“I’m so sorry, Mr. Castillo,” he stammered. “I-it won’t happen again.”I stopped pacing, fixing him with a cold gaze. “You’re right—it won’t.”I drew my gun, watching his eyes widen in fear, but he didn’t try to run. He knew better. In my world, there was no room for second chances when betrayal or negligence was involved. I pulled the trigger, a sin
12Emilia’s POV I woke early, as usual, with sunlight barely filtering through my window. I stretched, mentally preparing myself for the day ahead. Today felt different, though. The past few days had been a blur. I was still grateful to Alaric for helping me with Matteo’s bills. Despite his rough exterior, he’d been willing to help a stranger like me, something I hadn’t expected from a man like him—a man with power, influence, and a reputation that usually spelled danger. I’d thanked him, of course, and though he’d been stoic, I thought I’d seen a flicker of something softer in his eyes.I got dressed quickly and headed straight for Francesca’s room, as I did every morning. It had become a routine, a comforting one. I loved the little girl’s innocence, her bright smile, and how she lit up at the smallest things. She’d become the highlight of my day, and it felt like my purpose here was becoming clearer by the day.As I approached her door, I heard quiet murmurs from inside. Curious,
13Alaric’s POV.The night was thick, heavy with an intensity that clung to the air like smoke. Our meeting with the Salvatore syndicate had been tense from the moment I walked in. It should have been a quick discussion, a negotiation to remind them where their limits were. But it looked and felt like they had other plans. As I looked around, my senses alert, I could feel their eyes on me—calculating, waiting. I knew what that meant. A fight was coming, and I welcomed it.It happened fast. A flash of movement, a clinking of a gun being drawn. I dropped to the floor just as a bullet whizzed past my head, embedding itself in the wall behind me. That was it. My men and I sprang into action, returning fire in a hail of bullets that filled the air with the deafening sound of gunshots.I moved through the chaos, focused and precise, my gun an extension of my arm. I knew how this would end. These men—loyal to a family with no loyalty to themselves—were just a hindrance, and I did not like hi
158Gianna’s POVThe office felt… empty.Not in the literal sense—every cubicle was occupied, the hum of conversations and clicking keyboards filling the air—but something was missing. I couldn’t pinpoint it at first, brushing off the nagging sensation as a bad case of the Monday blues.By the time lunch rolled around, though, it hit me. Matteo.He hadn’t stopped by my office all morning. No casual comments, no sly smiles, no unsolicited but strangely helpful interventions. Nothing.And for reasons I didn’t care to examine, I noticed.I shouldn’t have, honestly. The man had been a thorn in my side for weeks, with his relentless determination to worm his way past my defenses. I couldn’t fire him as much as I’d thought about the idea countless times. Alaric brought him in. God knew how dangerous Matteo himself was even with his charming exterior. I should’ve been relieved to have some space, to be able to focus without his looming presence.But I wasn’t.Instead, I found myself glancing
157Gianna’s POVThe morning started with the shrill cry of my alarm slicing through my half-formed dreams. I groaned, slapping at the clock until it silenced itself. The sun was barely up, and I already felt behind.By the time I made it out the door, balancing my bag, a coffee tumbler, and a stack of folders I’d promised myself I’d review last night, I could already feel the dull thrum of a headache forming.The office was the usual chaos by the time I arrived. Phones ringing, people rushing between desks, the steady hum of printers and voices blending into an overwhelming static. I barely had time to set my things down before Matteo appeared in my office and at the edge of my desk, holding a printout in his hand.“This came to my inbox, but I’m pretty sure it’s meant for you,” he said, his tone calm, as if the morning hadn’t already started unraveling.I frowned, taking the paper from him. “Why is it in your inbox?”“I don’t know,” he said, leaning slightly against the edge of my d
156Gianna’s POVDinner with the closest board members wasn’t exactly my idea of a good time, but declining Matteo’s invitation felt like more trouble than it was worth. He’d caught me on my way out of the office, his tone casual but leaving little room for argument.“Team dinner tomorrow night,” he’d said, leaning against my desk like he had all the time in the world. “We’re celebrating the end of the project. You’ll be there.”I should have said no, made up an excuse about prior plans, but instead, I nodded, my mouth betraying me.Now, sitting at a long table in a cozy Italian restaurant with the board members, I questioned that decision.The chatter around me was loud and cheerful, a mix of work gossip and lighthearted banter. Matteo sat at the head of the table, his sleeves rolled up and a glass of red wine in hand. He looked completely at ease, laughing at something one of the junior analysts said. I tried to ignore the way my eyes kept drifting toward him, the way my chest tight
155Gianna’s POVBack in the city, it felt like everything should have gone back to normal. The trip was behind us, and with it, the long nights, the rooftop wine, and Matteo’s surprising kindness. We were back in our element: the office, the routine, the emails that never stopped. It was safe here, predictable.And yet, I found myself glancing at my office door more often than necessary, half expecting Matteo to walk through it with one of his disarming comments or an unsolicited opinion about my latest report.He didn’t.Instead, he kept his distance, but not in the way I expected. Matteo had always been everywhere, his presence big and loud, demanding attention. But now, he was more subtle, almost… careful. And it was driving me insane.It was barely past nine. I was hunched over my desk, scanning through the latest client proposal, when there was a soft knock at my door.“Come in,” I called, not looking up.A cup of coffee slid onto the corner of my desk, accompanied by a familiar
154Gianna’s POVThe final night of the trip arrived faster than I anticipated. It had been a whirlwind of back-to-back meetings, client dinners, and endless negotiations, leaving little time for myself. But as I sat in my hotel room, staring at my half-packed suitcase, I felt a twinge of something I couldn’t quite name. Relief? Sadness?Maybe both.A knock at my door pulled me from my thoughts. I frowned, glancing at the clock. It was late—too late for a work-related interruption.“Who is it?” I called out.“It’s Matteo,” came the reply.Of course, it was.I hesitated for a moment before standing and opening the door. He leaned against the doorframe, hands in his pockets, his tie slightly loosened but still annoyingly put together.“What do you need?” I asked, my tone sharper than I intended.His lips twitched in what might have been a smirk. “Relax, Gianna. I’m not here to bother you with work. I wanted to check if you were free for a moment.”“I was about to—” I gestured vaguely at
153Matteo’s POVI wasn’t one for tiptoeing around problems. Gianna, however, seemed determined to shove hers into a fucking closet and pretend they didn’t exist.We were wrapping up for the day, the conference room except for the faint hum of the city outside. She was sitting at the head of the table, fingers flying across her laptop keyboard, her focus sharp as a blade. At least, she wanted it to look that way.“Gianna,” I said, leaving my things and walking to her knowing fully well she’d push me away again. But I didn’t care. Not this time.She didn’t look up. “Not now, Matteo. I’m busy.”“Busy avoiding me, you mean?” I demanded, slamming my palms on the table much more louder and harder than I’d intended.That got her attention. She paused, her fingers hovering over the keys before she sighed and sat back, crossing her arms. “What do you want?”I leaned against the edge of the table, arms folded. “I want to know what’s going on with you. And don’t give me the ‘I’m fine’ speech—I’
152Gianna’s POVI hadn’t slept well in days. Matteo was like a storm cloud that followed me everywhere—quiet but impossible to ignore. Every glance, every small interaction left me tangled in a web of conflicting emotions that I really wasn’t ready to face yet.And now, sitting across from him in yet another cramped conference room, I couldn’t concentrate to save my life.“Gianna?” His voice cut through my thoughts.My head snapped up. “What?”He tilted his head, looking far too amused for my liking. “I asked if you’d prefer to handle the presentation, or should I take the lead?”“Oh.” I forced myself to focus, ignoring the slight flush creeping up my neck. “You should do it. You’re better at improvising.”He raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You think I’m good at something? That’s a first.”“Don’t let it go to your head,” I muttered, keeping my eyes glued to the papers in front of me.But I could feel his gaze on me still like he knew my thoughts and understood them w
151Matteo’s POVDinner with Gianna was an exercise in restraint, though I’m not sure why I bothered anymore. She’d made it clear after the night we spent together that we were employer and employee—nothing more, nothing less.Yet, there I was, sitting across from her at a quiet restaurant, trying not to stare at how the soft lighting caught the warmth of her skin or how her lips curved slightly when she read the menu.“Don’t get the salmon,” I said, breaking the silence.She glanced up, one eyebrow arched. “Why not?”“Because it’s dry here. Trust me, I’ve been to this place enough times to know.”Gianna set the menu down and folded her arms on the table. “And you’re suddenly an expert on everything now?”I smirked, leaning back in my chair. “I’ve been accused of worse.”She rolled her eyes, but there was a flicker of amusement in them. “Fine. What would the expert recommend?”“The risotto,” I said without missing a beat. “It’s one of the few things they don’t manage to ruin.”Her lip
150Matteo’s POV.This gala was the kind of event I hated but had perfected enduring over the years. Suits too stiff, champagne too warm, and conversations too shallow. Mr Clifford, who was hosting it, is, of course, a big player, and making an appearance wasn’t optional.I scanned the room, my gaze naturally landing on Gianna. She was near the bar, her sharp black dress cutting a figure that commanded attention without trying. Her head tilted slightly as she listened to some older man in a loud suit, her polite smile firmly in place. I could tell she wasn’t enjoying the conversation; her fingers tapped against her glass in that rhythmic way they did when she was irritated.The man leaned closer, a little too familiar, and I felt my jaw tighten.Before I could second-guess myself, I was already walking toward them, sliding into the conversation with a practiced ease.“Gianna,” I said, my voice cutting cleanly through whatever the guy had been saying. “There you are. I’ve been looking