Chapter 7 - The Safehouse in the Quarter
The safehouse was a historic two-story brick building hidden behind a lush courtyard off Governor Nicholls Street.
The courtyard was guarded by four armed men holding short-barreled automatic weapons. They nodded respectfully as Victor led me through the iron gate and up a flight of exterior stairs into a warmly lit apartment lined with exposed brick and dark cypress wood.
Inside, a private physician was wrapping a tight sterile bandage around Alessandro’s left upper arm.
Alessandro sat on a leather sofa, shirtless, his muscular chest and shoulders covered in rainwater and dark bruises. His jaw was set tight against the pain, but the moment the door swung open and his eyes landed on me, his entire frame relaxed.
“Victor,” Alessandro growled, though his eyes never left my face. “I told you not to drag her into this.”
“He didn't drag me,” I said, stepping past the doctor, setting my purse on the table, and kneeling beside the sofa. “I came because I wanted to.”
I looked at the bloody gauze sitting in the metal tray on the coffee table. My hands trembled slightly, but I reached out, gently touching the clean skin near his shoulder. “Are you okay?”
Alessandro looked down at me, his dark eyes burning with an emotion so deep it made my breath hitch. He raised his right hand, his rough thumb gently tracing the line of my cheekbone. “It’s just a graze, Clara. I’ve had worse injuries playing football in Naples.”
“You’re an idiot,” I whispered, tears rising in my eyes. “Why do you live like this? Why do you let these people shoot at you?”
“Because if I don't hold the docks, men like Marcone and Moretti do,” Alessandro said quietly, his hand moving down to cover mine where it rested on his arm. “And if they hold the docks, this city becomes a war zone. I keep the peace by being stronger than they are.”
“And who keeps you safe?” I asked, my voice cracking slightly.
Alessandro leaned forward, pressing his forehead gently against mine, his warm breath fanning across my lips. “You do,” he murmured. “Ever since you yelled at me for breaking a three-dollar cup.”
May you like
I closed my eyes, letting the warmth of his presence erase the cold terror that had gripped me since Victor stepped into the diner.
Outside, rain drummed heavily against the cypress shutters, but inside the dark room, the distance between the mob boss and the waitress vanished entirely.
