Page 75 of Between Us

“I wasn't hungry,” she murmured, rubbing her cheek against his chest. He felt so warm and strong andhers.

“You need to eat, baby.”

Alessandra didn't argue because she hadn't, in fact, eaten anything the entire day. But he didn't need to know that. “Will you have dinner with me?”

“Sure. Let’s go downstairs.”

In the kitchen, Alessandra hunted for a vase to put the flowers in water, while Roman grabbed the lasagna casserole from the fridge and cut two pieces. As the food heated in the microwave, he busied himself with his phone. Alessandra noticed the frown pulling onhis eyebrows as he read something, his gaze darkening with each passing second.

“Everything okay?” she asked from the counter where she was arranging the roses into the only glass vase she could find in one of the cupboards.

He looked up and smoothed his expression. “Everything’s fine.”

“You don't have to do this, you know.”

“Do what?”

“This babysitting thing. I know you're worried, but I can manage.”

He didn't look convinced, though he refrained from voicing what he thought of her mental health. “I like spending more time with you.”

“And I do, too, but I know it's affecting your work. Your father can't be too happy about it.”

The microwave pinged, and Roman turned to get the first plate out. “Let me worry about him.”

As the second plate warmed up, Alessandra finished with the flowers and grabbed two forks. Roman joined her at the island a moment later with the food.

She held his gaze when he sat down beside her. “All I'm saying is that... I'm fine. As fine as I can be given everything that's happened.”

In truth, she was better than even she had expected after being kidnapped and almost raped, not to mention killed. She still had a lot of anxiety and sometimes nightmares, but as far as her spirit was concerned, she wasn't in complete shambles. Growing up in the Mafia had to serve for something, after all. Despite her father's efforts to keep her sheltered, she'd built a certain degree of psychological endurance to the brutality of their world.

Alessandra could still remember the first time she’d ever seen her father’s other side—the one he’d tried so hard to hide from her as a child. She’d been about ten, playing hide-and-seek with her best friend from school, Alice. Alone in the kitchen and with no adult around, it had only taken Alessandra a moment of hesitation before deciding to break her parents’ most important rule: never go down in the basement. Knowing Alice and how she wasn’t scared of anything, chances were she was down there somewhere, and Alessandra was determined to win the game.

It wasn’t Alice whom Alessandra found in the basement, but her father and his underboss, Vito, gathered around a metal chair where another man sat. Hands tied up behind his back and his body slumped forward, he’d looked like he was barely holding on to life. Before Alessandra could even begin to comprehend what was going on, Nero had grabbed a fistful of the man’s hair and delivered a brutal blow to his face. She’d stood there, frozen, watching through the crack in the door as the man who’d kissed her forehead that morning committed an act so atrociously violent, she couldn’t even recognize him as her father. Weeks of nightmares had followed, but she’d never told a soul about what she'd witnessed, not even her mother.

During the years, she'd seen enough things to make her realize the type of man Nero Rossetti was. Even Matteo, who was always so careful, had once stumbled through the kitchen door, dripping blood from his arm all over their mother’s immaculate floor. When Alessandra had panicked and tried to help, she’d been sent to her room with strict instructions to stay there until morning.

So, maybe the reason why she was taking it all so well was because shewasa little damaged already and she'd never known it before now.

“You didn't look fine to me this morning when I left for work.” Roman’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.

“It was just a bad dream.”

He sighed. “What did you do today?”

Alessandra looked down at her plate, using her fork to cut a small piece of lasagna. She'd stayed in bed almost the entire day, watching sitcoms on TV. “Not much.”

“Specifically?”

“I watched TV and kept Nika company while she cooked.”

“You didn't go to your driving lessons and you were only down for twenty minutes. The rest of the day you spent holed up in the bedroom.”

She met his eyes again and frowned. “Is that why you wanted Vladik inside the house all the time; so he can spy on me?”

Vladik, the security she’d never asked for, was a mountain of a man with a permanent scowl embedded on his face. He usually spent his time sitting at the kitchen island, drinking coffee and watching soccer games on his IPad. With his black suits and neck tattoos, the man looked every bit like an Enforcer in the Bratva—and that was exactly what he’d been until a week ago. Alessandra, who’d overheard Roman talk about it, didn't think he was too happy to have been demoted to the rank of glorified nanny to a nineteen-year-old Italian girl.

“Vladik stays inside because what happened last week stirred some shit up in the organization.”

---