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ALESSIO ROMANO

The heavy scent of cigars and aged whiskey hung in the air as Alessio stepped into the dimly lit room. The long oak table stretched before him, surrounded by the most powerful men in their world. Emilio, Arabella's father, sat at the head of the table, his commanding presence impossible to ignore. The room fell silent as Alessio took his seat near the middle, trying to suppress the storm of emotions that had been clawing at him for weeks.

This was the world he was raised in, the only world he knew. Yet, for the first time, he felt off-balance—like a puzzle piece jammed into the wrong spot. And Emilio had noticed.

The meeting began swiftly, Emilio's deep voice cutting through the silence as he laid out the situation.

"There's a leak in the organization," he said, his tone cold and measured. "Someone's been siphoning money from our accounts and tipping off authorities about shipments. It's subtle, but it's there. I've already assigned my best men to investigate, but until we find the source, we tighten security and keep everything on lockdown."

Murmurs of agreement echoed around the table, but Alessio barely heard them. His mind was elsewhere, replaying moments he wished he could forget. The look in Arabella's eyes when she blocked his number, the way she had seemed lighter, freer without him.

"Alessio," Emilio said sharply, snapping him back to the present. All eyes turned to him.

"Yeah?" Alessio straightened in his chair, masking his distraction with a facade of indifference.

Emilio's dark eyes bore into him, heavy with both authority and disappointment. "I don't know where your head's been lately, but it's not here. And that's a problem."

The room went quiet. Even the faint rustle of papers stopped as everyone watched the exchange.

"I'm fine," Alessio said evenly, though his jaw tightened.

"No, you're not," Emilio said bluntly, leaning forward. "You've been sloppy, distracted. This isn't the time to act like some lovesick fool. Not with everything going on."

A flicker of anger flared in Alessio's chest, but he forced it down. "I'm not a liability."

Emilio let out a humorless chuckle. "You say that, but your actions lately say otherwise. You think I don't know about the fight you started in the club last week? Or the fact that you've been missing meetings?"

Alessio clenched his fists beneath the table, his face an unreadable mask. He hated how exposed he felt, like everyone in the room could see right through him.

"This isn't about you," Emilio continued, his voice sharp. "This is about the family. The business. You don't have the luxury of wallowing in whatever personal issues you're dealing with. Not when there's a traitor among us."

The words hit Alessio like a punch to the gut, but he stayed silent.

"You need to get it together," Emilio said, his tone softening but losing none of its weight. "You're better than this, Alessio. I've seen what you're capable of. But right now? You're a liability. And if you don't fix that, you'll be out—do you understand me?"

Alessio nodded stiffly, his throat tight.

"Good." Emilio leaned back, signaling the end of the reprimand. He turned his attention back to the rest of the table. "Now, let's focus on the real issue. If anyone has any suspicions about who's behind this, speak now."

The conversation shifted back to business, but Alessio barely heard it. His thoughts churned, a mix of anger, shame, and frustration swirling inside him. He hated that Emilio was right. He hated that he wasn't himself lately, that his head wasn't in the game.

But most of all, he hated the reason why.

As the meeting dragged on, Alessio kept his head down, answering questions when necessary but staying silent otherwise. When it finally ended, the men filtered out of the room one by one, offering nods or brief words to Emilio before leaving.

Alessio lingered, unsure why, until Emilio spoke again.

"You're better than this," he said quietly, his voice lacking the sharpness it had earlier. "Whatever's going on with you, deal with it. And quickly."

Alessio didn't respond. He simply nodded and left the room, the weight of Emilio's words pressing heavily on his shoulders.

As he stepped outside, the cool evening air hit him, but it did little to clear his head. He knew Emilio was right—he couldn't afford to fall apart now. Not when everything was at stake.

But as he lit a cigarette and stared out into the darkened city, the only thing he could think about was Arabella. And how, no matter how much he tried, he couldn't seem to let her go.

The sharp click of Alessio's lighter echoed in the stillness of the alley outside the meeting hall. The cigarette between his fingers burned slowly, its ember glowing faintly in the dark. He took a long drag, the smoke filling his lungs, but it didn't ease the turmoil churning inside him.

Emilio's words rang in his ears like a warning bell: You're a liability. Get it together.

He hated being called out in front of the others, hated feeling like he was losing control. But the worst part? Emilio wasn't wrong. Alessio had been slipping—he knew it, and so did everyone else.

For the past few weeks, his mind had been a battlefield. Every thought of Arabella tore at him, her laughter and warmth haunting him in moments when he least expected it. And then there was the guilt, festering like an open wound. He knew he'd made mistakes, let his own pride and selfishness push her away. Now, she was gone—out of his life—and yet, she was everywhere.

He leaned against the cold brick wall, his free hand curling into a fist. The family's business was on shaky ground, with a traitor threatening their operations, and here he was, unable to focus. He couldn't afford to let his personal life bleed into his work, not in this world. But it was happening, and it was becoming a weakness others could exploit.

The door behind him creaked open, and a familiar voice broke the silence.

"You're still here," said Lorenzo, one of Emilio's trusted lieutenants. His voice carried a mix of curiosity and judgment. "Most of the others are already gone."

Alessio exhaled smoke and didn't bother turning around. "Just needed some air."

Lorenzo stepped closer, his polished shoes crunching on the gravel. "Emilio's tough on you because he sees potential. But you're making it hard for him to defend you right now."

Alessio glanced at him, his jaw tightening. "I don't need a lecture, Lorenzo."

"It's not a lecture," Lorenzo said, his tone even. "It's advice. You think anyone here can afford to look weak? The family's under attack, Alessio. If you can't pull yourself together, Emilio will cut you loose. He has to. You know how this works."

Alessio ground his teeth, dropping the cigarette to the ground and crushing it under his heel. "I know how it works."

"Then start acting like it," Lorenzo said sharply. "Whatever's eating at you, fix it. Because right now, you're not just a liability to yourself—you're a liability to all of us."

Without waiting for a response, Lorenzo turned and walked back inside, leaving Alessio alone with his thoughts once more.

Hours later, Alessio sat in his house, a half-empty glass of whiskey on the table in front of him. The dim light of the city skyline flickered through the window, casting shadows across the room. He hadn't been able to shake Emilio's words or Lorenzo's warning.

Arabella's face swam in his mind again, unbidden and relentless. He remembered the way her laugh used to fill the silence, the way her presence had always been a steadying force in his life. But he had ruined it, driven her away with his own selfishness.

Now, she was gone, and he didn't even know what her life looked like anymore. Was she happy? Was she still angry with him? Did she ever think about him the way he thought about her?

His phone buzzed on the table, jolting him from his thoughts. He reached for it, expecting one of Emilio's men or a follow-up about the meeting. Instead, the message was from an unsaved number, though he immediately recognized the tone.

Anonymous

Someone in your circle isn't who they say they are. Keep an eye on Lorenzo.

Alessio stared at the message, his blood running cold. His instincts kicked in, a flood of questions racing through his mind. Lorenzo? Could it be true? Or was this just another attempt to sow chaos within the family?

He shoved his phone aside, his fingers gripping the edge of the table. One thing was clear—this wasn't just about him anymore. The family was at risk, and Emilio was right. He couldn't afford to let his emotions rule him.

Alessio poured the rest of the whiskey down the sink, his movements deliberate. He stared at his reflection in the kitchen window, the flicker of streetlights illuminating his face.

It was time to get his head back in the game. Because if someone was betraying the family, Alessio would find them. And when he did, there would be no room for mercy.

But as he turned off the lights and walked to his bedroom, a single thought lingered in the back of his mind: Would Arabella even recognize the man he was about to become?