Page 101 of Filthy Dirty Dom

“I don’t know, Leslie.”

“Did it have something to do with you?”

“Maybe.”

“Did it have something to do with Mia?”

The truth was, he was starting to think more and more that the attack did have something to do with him and Mia, and not so much the Bratva or their deal with Pearson and Anderson.

The reasons ticked through his head, starting with the fact that he’d recognized one of the intruders, the man he’d killed, as mafia from his days with Mia. Luca could have sent them, betrayed them, but Alex didn’t believe that—mostly because Nico had been killed, and Alex knew very well that Luca’s loyalty to family would never allow that kind of risk. No, it made much more sense that the attack had been staged by mafia soldiers, either ones who’d rejected Lucas’s rule or ones who pretended to accept it but no longer would once they’d learned that Alex was back.

Suddenly, it all became too much for Alex to bear—the memoires, the secrets, the lying to Leslie. She was part of this, and if her life was once again in jeopardy because of him, she at least deserved an answer to her questions.

Who was Mia?

"Mia was my wife," he confessed, his voice hollow, his gaze fixed on the window.

The admission hung heavy in the silence, a confession of a past he'd long since buried. His gaze shifted to Leslie, watching as her features morphed from shock to understanding, the pieces of the puzzle finally falling into place.

“How—how did Mia die?” she asked.

“Mia…," he began, his voice barely a whisper. "Mia was killed by members of her own family. Not Luca nor anyone on the island,” he quickly explained as her expression contorted with horror. “But still her blood. Her brothers. And others in the mafia.”

“Renee mentioned she had three sons,” Leslie breathed out.

“She had three sons. With Nico gone, they’re all dead.”

Because of me, Alex thought, but he didn’t tell her that.

“Why? Why did they kill her?”

“Because she renounced them. She had to, to leave the mafia behind her. She did it for me. Us. So she could start over. And that wasn’t something they were going to allow." The words hung heavy in the room, a suffocating cloak of silence enveloping them.

He watched as Leslie absorbed his words, her face a mask of horror and sympathy. He saw the questions in her eyes, the confusion and fear etched in the lines of her forehead.

"She chose me over her family,” he continued. “And they... they killed her." His voice cracked, the memory of Mia’s death too raw, too painful.

“But Luca…”

“He wasn’t the head of the mafia then, Mia’s brother, Antoine, was. When he learned what they’d done, Luca hunted down Antoine and the men who’d killed her, and took over as the head of the family.”

“And that’s why he helped us,” she said, realization in her eyes. “Because you were married to Mia. So he considers you family.”

There was more to it than that, but he’d opened his veins enough to tell Leslie about Mia. He couldn’t tell her the rest. Not without breaking.

Not without dying when he saw the look of horror in her eyes – directed at him, as she realized what a monster he truly was.

"When was this?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"Eight years ago," Alex replied. His voice was a low murmur, carrying the burden of a past he'd rather forget.

There was a moment of silence, both absorbed in their own thoughts. Alex felt the intensity of Leslie's gaze on him, her curiosity mingling with a certain degree of unease.

"That’s why you can’t be with me," she said. “Because you blame yourself for Mia’s death. Because you can’t bear the thought of danger following you and ultimately finding its way to me.” There was a deep sadness in her voice, a resignation that mirrored Alex’s own turmoil.

"Yes," he said. “But that’s exactly what happened anyway, didn’t it?”

“That’s what you believe. And yet, here we still are. You’ve saved me time and time again, Alex. I’m here, alive, because of you.”

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