Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

Alessio

I'm pleased that, while Dario accompanies me to my meeting, he stays in the car. He gives me some space to talk freely with my men, which I desperately need.

I arranged to meet at one of the Italian restaurants my syndicate uses as a front. Ciao Bella Italian Restaurant is in an older building on a seedy side of town. The restaurant has faded red leather booths, and dark wood paneling. It's décor is dated, but I find it comforting. Familiar. I used to come with my father when I was a kid. The area had been better back then, and the red leather on the booths brighter.

One of my captains, Sergio, greets me warmly. "Boss, we were starting to worry we'd have to break you out of that place." Sergio is older than me, with jet black hair that's tinged with silver at the temples. He was my father's second and he had my father's undying trust. I trust him too. He's a good man.

But good man or not, I don't want him or the others to know I was strongarmed into this marriage to Dario. Number one, that makes me look weak, and two they need to be open to the idea of the Black Knives watching over us. As much as I hate Valentino, the men need to believe I'm cool with what's happening. They can never know the truth. "Valentino and I had a lot to discuss."

"I can imagine." Sergio leads me to the tables where the others are seated. As requested by me, Sergio has gathered ten of my best capos for the meeting. The capos, or captains, each lead a group of men who are my soldiers. Those men each operate specific territories and engage in specific types of criminal activities.

One of the men, Lawrence, hands me a tumbler of whiskey. "I won't lie, sir, this marriage and merger took us by surprise." He watches me with his dark eyes, and I'm careful not to give anything away.

"It made sense financially. We need to grow in order to survive. We lost some credibility when my father died. Merging with the Black Knives will be good for all of us." I sip the whiskey, wincing slightly as the smoky beverage burns a trail down my throat.

"And the marriage?" Lawrence asks, rubbing his bearded jaw. "How did that come about? I wasn't aware you were that close to Dario Coppola. In fact, I thought you loathed Valentino Syracuse and Dario both. We all thought that."

I don't mind the questions. I fully expected questions. This marriage and merger are coming completely out of left field. I'd be more surprised if there weren't questions. "You're not wrong. To be frank, I wanted to kill Valentino. At the time, I felt strongly that the way he treated my father sent him to an early grave."

A rumble goes through the men.

"You've changed your mind on that?" Sergio asks.

"Well, angry or not, even I'm not rash enough to go against the leader of the Black Knives," I lie. "In the end, Valentino became an ally against Carlo."

"So, it's true Carlo attacked you there at the cabin?" one of the men asks

"Yes. I went up to the mountains to clear my head. While I was there, Carlo showed up with Dario Coppola as his prisoner." I sigh. "I was outraged when Carlo told me he was going to kill Dario and blame it on me. It was supposed to be a murder suicide."

"Jesus," Sergio rasps. "That traitor."

I nod. "Exactly. Carlo betrayed me and tried to take over as head of the Abella Syndicate. By some miracle, Dario and I over powered him and escaped. It was during my time with Dario that I began to understand better why Valentino did the things he did to my father." I'm laying it on thick, but that's necessary if they're going to accept I'm suddenly cool with Valentino. There needs to be some reason why I've changed my opinion of Valentino.

"So you bonded with Dario while on the run," murmurs, Lawrence.

"I did." My face warms slightly at the memories of just exactly how well we bonded. "My one regret is that I didn't take more men with me to the cabin. One of Carlo's men killed Enzo. If I'd had more men with me, that never would have happened. My desire for privacy got one of my best men killed."

The men mutter among themselves, looking confused.

Sergio laughs gruffly. "But, sir. Enzo isn't dead."

I widen my eyes in shock. "What?"

"He's in the hospital." Sergio grimaces. "He's in bad shape, but he's alive."

"I don't understand. He lost so much blood. I… I thought sure he'd died." I'm swamped with shock and relief. When I'd had to leave him behind I'd felt horrible guilt.

"He somehow survived." Lawrence smiles. "You know Enzo. He's a stubborn bastard. He lost a lot of blood, but Valentino's men found him and took him to the hospital."

"Valentino's men found him?"

"Yes. When they were searching for Dario."

I shake my head. "Enzo's really alive?"

"He is indeed," Sergio says. "I'm sorry, I thought you knew."

"No," I say softly. "I… I was sure he'd died. There was so much blood."

"The doctors said he's lucky to be alive." Lawrence laughs. "Apparently he has nine lives."

"Yes," I murmur. "I'm so glad he's okay."

"How did the engagement come about, sir?" Lawrence asks. "If you don't mind me asking."

I meet his curious gaze. "We worked well together. If we hadn't, we'd have both died. I guess that sort of thing forms a bond between people."

"I see." Lawrence's gaze flicks to the bite mark on my throat. "Well, I'm happy for you, sir. It's good for you to have an alpha."

I try not to bristle at the implication an omega can't function without an alpha by their side. That idea is antiquated, but prevalent. I've been fighting against it most of my life. Even my father worried being head of the syndicate might be too much for me as an omega. It's frustrating to have to deal with that nonsense in this day and age, but it is what it is. The only way to prove them all wrong is to excel.

Sergio holds up his glass. "Well, regardless of how this all came about, it seems like it'll be a good thing. Here's to your engagement, sir, and to working with the Black Knives. May both bring many blessings on our syndicate."

The men toast me and the merger. I do my very best to appear excited about both. I plaster on a fake smile and pretend to be eager. I'm relieved when the conversation finally drifts away from my impending marriage. I spend the next hour talking to my captains about what the merge will mean for us. Everyone is taking the merge in stride. In fact, the men actually seem pleased about my engagement to Dario and the merge. I worried they'd resent the merge, but it's the complete opposite. They're excited at the concept of being a part of the Black Knives Syndicate.

I leave the meeting feeling very positive about things. I get in the passenger seat of the black SUV and Dario starts the engine.

"Did it go well?" he asks, pulling out onto the road.

"Surprisingly well." I stare out the window at the run down business we pass as we make our way down the busy street.

"I'm glad."

"Nobody seemed to blink an eye at the idea of you and I marrying. I find that so odd. I thought for sure at least one of them would have an issue, but no one seemed to. Or if they did, they kept it to themselves."

He shrugs. "It's not their place to question. They're simply supposed to do as they're told. Good men trust their leaders."

"They are good men. Very good men," I murmur, and then brighten. "You'll never believe this, but Enzo is alive. He somehow survived his injuries."

Dario nods. "Yes. I know."

I scowl, shocked at his response. "You know? How would you know, but I didn't?"

"One of our capos told me they found him at the cabin. They took him to the ER."

Anger jolts through me. "Why didn't you say anything?"

He wrinkles his brow. "I didn't think of it."

"But… you knew how upset I was at the thought he was dead." I blink at him in bewilderment.

He gives me a sheepish look. "It just slipped my mind. I was busy. Valentino has had a lot of shit for me to handle. I just didn't remember about Enzo."

"My god, alphas are so selfish," I growl. "I've been sick to my stomach about Enzo, and the whole time you knew he was alive." I dig my nails into the armrest. "You're a real insensitive jerk, Dario. You know that?"

He opens his mouth as if he's going to argue, but then he says softly, "I'm sorry."

Surprised at his apology, I grumble, "I don't forgive you."

He sighs. "Alessio, I'm not used to having anyone to tell things to. It just didn't occur to me."

"But I was upset."

"Yes."

"You could have made me feel better by telling me about Enzo." I study his rugged profile. He looks embarrassed, which serves him right. "Isn't the alpha's role to comfort his omega? You should have comforted me by telling me about Enzo."

He winces. "Okay, I screwed up. I'll do better in the future, okay?"

I huff. "You'd better."

His only response is a gruff laugh.

After a short drive, we pull into the parking lot of the Sugar Supreme Italian Bakery. The old, red-brick building is located on a sun-dappled street, nestled among a row of quaint, mid-century buildings. The bakery has been a beloved staple in the neighborhood as long as I can remember.

"I've never been here," Dario says as he joins me by my side of the car.

"No? When my mother was alive, she'd always get my birthday cake from here." I feel a melancholy twinge. "Dad found it too painful to come here after she was gone. From that point on, I got stuck with store bought cakes."

"I've never had a birthday cake, period."

I widen my eyes. "What? Never?"

He shrugs. "Who would have bought me one? My father wouldn't have bothered."

I wince. "And from what you've told me that's probably a good thing. He might have put the candles out on your neck."

Dario grimaces. "I never should have told you that story."

I study him. "Why not?"

"I don't know. It's the past. Who cares what happened to me as a child? I grew up just fine."

I laugh and say sardonically, "You're a thug, Dario. Gee, I wonder if having an asshole father could have played into that happening? Hmmm. Could that be possible?"

He gives me a surly glance, but doesn't respond.

I smirk at his grumpy expression. "Don't look like that. It's good you told me that story about your dad. If we're going to be married, we need to understand each other better. You don't show much emotion. Knowing how you grew up, I guess I understand why you keep everything bottled up."

He shifts uneasily. "I don't keep everything bottled up."

I smirk. "No? What do you share? Certainly not your feelings."

He avoids my gaze, a line between his dark brows. "We should go inside. It's cold out here."

"See. You're like a vault." I shake my head and make my way to the front of the shop.

A little silver bell jingles as we enter the bakery. The interior is cozy and inviting, with exposed brick walls. Vintage wooden shelves line the room, filled with an assortment of bread, pastries, and cakes. The air inside the bakery is tinged with the scent of yeast, sugar, and cinnamon.

There's an older woman working behind the counter. Her white hair is mostly covered by a black scarf, and her red apron dusted with flour. She moves with practiced grace, sliding trays of dough into the old oven with a long-handled peel. She looks up and smiles, revealing a few golden teeth mixed in with the others.

"Buongiorno," she says, wiping her hands on her apron.

I smile at her. "Do you remember me? I used to come in with my mother a lot when I was a child. Before she passed."

She squints and nods slowly. "You're Joesph's son."

"That's right." I'm flattered she remembers me. "It's been a long time. I didn't think you'd know who I was."

"It certainly has been a while. I recognize the color of your eyes. They're a very unusual green." She comes closer. "How's Joesph?"

I grimace. "I'm afraid he passed away early this year."

Her face falls. "Oh, no. I'm so sorry. He was such a nice man. Your mother was wonderful as well."

"Thank you." My heart aches thinking about my parents, so I change the subject. "I was wondering if you do wedding cakes?"

She nods. "We do it all." She turns and grabs a big book filled with photos of cakes. She lifts it, grunting as if it weighs a ton, and drops it down on the counter with a loud thump. "Do you know what kind you want? Buttercream? Fondant?" She opens the book as she speaks.

"I'm not really sure."

She flicks her gaze to Dario and then back to me. "Is the cake for you?"

My cheeks warm. "Actually, yes." It's surreal to be picking a wedding cake for myself and Dario. I never pictured getting married this young, and definitely not to an alpha like Dario.

She grins, showing her gold teeth. "And he's your alpha, right?" She winks at him. "You don't need to answer. I could tell right away. The way he hovers."

Dario frowns. "I'm just standing like a normal person."

She cackles. "It's the way you stand that gives you away. You're protective. That's good. You should be." She waggles a gnarled finger at him. "It's your job to protect your omega."

Dario appears confused by her lecturing tone, but he just nods politely.

Trying to cut her off from saying more about how he needs to protect me, I say, "I remember you always had delicious buttercream cakes. Maybe that would be the way to go." I meet Dario's gaze. "Do you like buttercream?"

"Yes." He rubs the back of his neck. "I love all cake."

The old woman nods. "Of course you do. Cake is like a piece of heaven."

"You're not wrong." Dario leans over and peers at the refrigerated cakes. "Ooh, those look good." His eyes light up as he takes in all the different cakes.

"They don't just look good, they are good." She smiles.

His gaze stops on one cake in particular. "I've had that before. It's delicious. What's it called?"

"That's an Italian ricotta cassata cake. It originated from Sicily. Cassata consists of round sponge cake moistened with fruit juices or liqueur and layered with ricotta cheese, candied peel, and a chocolate or vanilla filling. It"s topped with a marzipan layer and we can sometimes decorate it with candied fruits." The old woman purses her lips. "That wouldn't be a very good cake for a wedding though."

He glances up. "Oh, I wasn't thinking of the wedding. I was just thinking it might be delicious for lunch."

I frown. "You can't eat cake for lunch."

"Why not?" He straightens. "People eat cereal for dinner."

A smile hovers around the old woman's lips. "Would you like a sample? We give out free samples." She doesn't wait for his response. She opens the case and takes the cassata cake out. She cuts a slice and puts it on a paper plate. She hands it over the refrigeration case along with a plastic fork.

Dario takes the cake, frowning. "That's too big for a sample."

"Is it? I didn't notice." The old woman grins and puts the cake back in the case. "Now, look through the book. I'll need to know how many tiers you want the cake to be, and the flavors you'd like. When did you need this cake?"

"Saturday," I say.

She bugs her eyes. "Saturday? That's only two days away. Mighty short notice for a wedding cake. They take a while to make."

I grimace. "It's not going to be a big wedding. It's just a tiny ceremony. We only need a small cake."

"Oh, I see." She nods. "We can probably do that."

Dario glances up, cream on his lips. "We could always get a bigger cake and then we'd have leftovers."

I can't help laughing. "Jesus, you really do love cake."

He nods and happily goes back to eating the sweet treat. He's usually rather dour and thuggish looking. But at the moment, he looks a bit like a kid. His dark hair falls onto his forehead, and his expression is one of pure of bliss as he consumes the creamy cake. As if he feels my gaze, he looks up and holds out the fork. "Sorry. Did you want a taste?"

I shake my head. "No, thank you."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure." Watching him I get a weird ache in my chest. If I didn't know better, I'd think that emotion was affection. But there's no way I feel affection for Dario. The things I feel for him are all based off of instinct. Affection is an actual emotion. I don't have actual feelings or emotions for Dario. Do I?

I grab the big book and carry it over to a small table by the window. I sit down and begin looking through the book, although I'm not really seeing anything. I'm confused by why my heart aches lately every time I look at Dario. Oblivious to my mental meltdown, he joins me. He throws the empty plate in the trash and sits at the small table with me. When his leg brushes mine, I jerk away and he frowns.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

"Nothing." My voice is clipped and I focus on the photos in the book.

He wrinkles his brow. "Did I do something to annoy you? Are you mad because I ate all the cake by myself?"

"No." I glance up and meet his puzzled gaze. "Nothing is wrong. I'm just annoyed that I have to choose a cake for a wedding I don't want to have."

He leans closer. "You know, I'd have shared the cake if you'd simply asked."

"Dario," I rumble, "I don't care about the cake."

"Well, something has you looking upset. I know you better than you think I do, Alessio. I can tell something is bothering you."

I meet his gaze, annoyed when I notice how long and dark his lashes are. "I'm not upset. I promise. I… I just want to get this over with, okay?"

He looks skeptical as he says, "Hmmm."

I turn a few more pages, aware of his leg touching mine again. I don't want to pull my leg away though, or he'll think I'm mad. I turn another page and come upon four smaller cakes. One of the small, two-tier cakes catches my eye and makes me stop turning pages.

The cake is enrobed in a silky, ivory colored buttercream frosting. Adorning the cake are delicate swirls and dots reminiscent of vintage lace. There's also a small bouquet of edible lavender sugar flowers at the top, each tiny flower showing a marvel of detail. The cake is simple but elegant. I know instantly that's the cake I want.

"Pretty." Dario puts his finger on the photo of the cake I like. "I wouldn't mind that one."

I glance up surprised. "You like that one?"

He nods. "I do. I think it's my favorite so far. We should probably taste it though before we decide."

"Yeah." I say softly, "I… I like that one too."

He smiles at me, and that annoying ache returns as our eyes meet. I drag my gaze from his and stand quickly, bumping into the table. I carry the book over to the counter. "I think we know the cake we want."

The old woman comes over. "Which one?"

I show her and she nods. "That one has layers of sponge cake, separated by raspberry buttercream filling. You can do strawberry if you'd rather. There's just a hint of lemon zest too. It's delicious if I do say so myself. It's my husband's favorite."

Dario joins me. I can feel the heat of his body behind me, and my pulse picks up. I'm flustered by what's going on with me today. I feel jittery anytime he's near me. I don't like it one bit. I want to be able to ignore Dario, but today that seems impossible. I keep hoping this pull toward him will wane, but it seems to be getting stronger.

"We can do either raspberry or strawberry," I address Dario gruffly. "Which do you prefer?"

"I like either."

I turn to the old woman. "We'll do raspberry." I just need to get this cake shopping crap over with. I need some distance from Dario.

We fill out all the paperwork and Dario pays her a deposit. Then we leave the bakery, and return to the car. Dario tries to talk about other wedding details on the way back to Valentino's home, but I only answer him with one word responses. I feel his frustration. I'm sure he has no idea why I'm being standoffish again.

I get the sense that, while Dario didn't want this marriage, he's now fully on board. He's accepted that this is how it's going to be, and he just does what needs doing. Is that because Valentino has given him his orders, and he'll blindly follow them?

Such a good little soldier.

I'm not sure why the idea he's marrying me because Valentino told him to irks me. It's not like I want him to marry me for any other reason. I don't want to marry him at all. I'm definitely not looking forward to sharing his bed.

Liar.

I grit my teeth against the lust that shifts through me at the thought of being in his bed. Being his omega. Belonging to him. I touch the bite mark on my throat as heat flushes through me. If we truly are fated mates, the universe has a perverse sense of humor.

We enter the intersection on a green light. Still feeling agitated, I glance out the window to my right. I'm horrified to see a white SUV barreling toward us as it runs the red light. I open my mouth to shout a warning, but the SUV slams into us before I can get one word out.