His hands still on my arms. “We should talk.”
“We’re past talking! Someone just threw a brick through my window and threatened me because of you!” The volume rises despite attempts to stay calm. “And you show up like some kind of avenging angel with a gun and death threats and how did you even get here so fast?”
“I had men watching the shop.”
“You had—” The words die in my throat. “You’ve been watching me?”
“Protecting you. There’s a difference.”
“Is there? Because from where I’m standing, it feels an awful lot like surveillance!” Hands rake through hair, leaving it disheveled. “God, I knew you were dangerous. I knew you weren’t just an importer. But this? Men with guns, threats, people watching my shop?”
“Elena—”
“Don’t. Just—don’t.” Distance is needed, space to think without those dark eyes making everything fuzzy. But there’s nowhere to go in the small shop, and glass is everywhere, and the cold air keeps pouring through the broken window like a physical reminder that nothing is safe anymore.
Alessandro’s jaw works. “Pack a bag.”
“Excuse me?”
“Pack a bag. You’re staying with me until this is resolved.”
“Like hell I am!”
“This isn’t a request.” His voice drops into that tone, the one that probably makes his men scramble to obey. “Greco knows where you live, where you work. He’s already made one move. He’ll make another.”
“So what, I’m supposed to just abandon my shop? My life? Move in with you because some mobster has a grudge?”
“Yes.”
The simplicity of it, the absolute certainty in that one word, is infuriating. “You can’t just order me around, Alessandro.”
“I can when it’s your safety at stake.” He moves closer, and despite everything, my traitorous body responds to his proximity. “Please. I know you’re angry. You have every right to be. But right now, I need you somewhere I can protect you. Somewhere with security and backup and no giant windows that bricks can come through.”
“For how long?”
“As long as it takes.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only answer I have.” His hand comes up to cup my cheek, thumb brushing across the bone. “I can’t, Elena, if something happened to you because of me, I wouldn’t survive it.”
The raw honesty in his voice cracks something in my chest. Here stands a man who probably kills people for a living, whocarries a gun like it’s a wallet, who just threatened to dismantle an entire organization and he’s looking at me like I’m the most fragile, precious thing in the world.
“One condition,” the words come out softer than intended.
“Anything.”
“You tell me everything. No more secrets, no more lies. I want to know exactly what I’m dealing with.”
He hesitates, and for a moment the possibility exists he’ll refuse. Then: “Everything. I promise.”
“Okay.” A shaky breath escapes. “Okay. Let me get some things.”
Alessandro’s penthouse is exactly what I predicted, all glass and steel and expensive minimalist furniture that looks like it’s never been used. Floor-to-ceiling windows offer panoramic views of the city. The kitchen gleams with stainless steel appliances. The living room could fit my entire apartment twice over.
And there’s not a plant in sight.
“Guest room is down the hall,” Alessandro says, setting down the hastily packed overnight bag. “Ensuite bathroom, walk-in closet. Make yourself at home.”
