He takes my hand again, and I follow him into the warehouse. Everything stops. Every man in the building freezes mid-step the moment Alessandro enters, their gazes snapping to him with sharp, immediate focus. The air shifts, growing thicker, heavier. I keep my eyes forward, not wanting to look like I’m prying, but I catch glimpses of crates stacked high, labels I don’t recognize. Some sort of shipping operation, maybe? I’m careful not to linger. My father always said curiosity in a woman was dangerous.
A young guy—barely older than me—rushes over, face flushed and hands full of crumpled papers. “Mr. Moretti—sir—I don’t think the figures are right. I tried balancing the totals but something’s off. I’ll find out, I swear—”
Alessandro takes the papers calmly, tilting his head toward an office. “Come with me,” he says quietly to me.
My stomach twists, but I nod. Once inside, he spreads the papers across the desk and then gestures to the leather chair behind it.
“Sit.”
I hesitate. No one has ever invited me to sit at a desk before. Especially not a man like him. I lower myself carefully. He stands beside me, one hand on the desk, the other on the back of the chair.
“Tell me what you see.”
I stare at the paperwork, then up at him. I have never been allowed to participate in our world. I was shocked when my parents allowed me to study in school. I thought they would expect me to learn something more to do with social gatherings. But then my father made the comment that it wouldn't matter what I studied, that my future husband would never allow me to work. So I picked something I loved… numbers.
“My father never let me see business documents,” I confess. “He said it wasn’t a woman’s place.”
Alessandro’s expression darkens, but he nods for me to continue.
I force myself to focus, tracing the numbers with my fingertip. And then it jumps out at me—blatant, sloppy, almost insulting.
“They’re paying thirty percent more on each crate than last month,” I say slowly. “Hidden as a port holding fee.”
Alessandro leans over me, eyes scanning where I point. A low growl vibrates in his chest. Then—before I can react—his lips press gently to the top of my head.
“Thank you,” he murmurs. “You are amazing.”
My heart slams against my ribs so hard it hurts. He opens the office door. The young guy is still standing outside, pale and shaking.
Alessandro steps forward, voice cold and sharp. “Get Simon. Take him to the back.”
The kid swallows hard, nodding fast before sprinting away.
The door shuts, quieting the warehouse noises.
Alessandro turns to me. His face is unreadable. “You can stay in the office,” he says softly, “or I can have one of the drivers take you home.”
Home. The word doesn’t feel real yet. I think about what I saw in the warehouse. About what I just uncovered for him. About the way he kissed my head—gentle, approving, proud. I thinkabout the life I came from. The silence. The control. The fear. And then I think about what he just said to me outside.
You go where I go.
I stand slowly and take his hand.
“I go where you go,” I whisper.
His fingers tighten around mine, warm and secure, something fierce flickering across his face.
“Good,” he says.
He leads me out of the office, through the warehouse, and deeper into his world—and for the first time in my life, I don’t feel like I’m walking into danger. I feel like I’m walking toward myself.
The farther we walk through the warehouse, the quieter it becomes. The echo of machinery fades behind us, replaced by the steady thud of Alessandro’s footsteps and the quick, nervous rhythm of my own. We stop at a metal door tucked into the back corner. He opens it, guiding me inside with a hand lightly at the small of my back. The room is empty except for a single chair bolted to the floor in the center. No windows. Concrete walls. Cold fluorescent light humming above our heads.
My breath catches. I know what rooms like this are used for. My father had them too, though he never allowed me near them.
But Alessandro… he doesn’t leave me outside. He keeps me beside him. Minutes pass. Then the door swings open again.
The young man from earlier steps in—his face pale—and two other men flank him.
