Chapter 4
Liar. The shorter man moved around the counter toward me. You’re his woman. You know where his is. I backed up, reaching behind me for anything I could use as a weapon. My fingers closed around a rolling pin. Get out of my bakery.
Not until you tell us where to find him. The man lunged. I swung the rolling pin with all my strength, connecting with his shoulder.
He bellowed in pain, and his companion rushed forward. I was outmatched, and we both knew it. As his hand closed around my wrist, I heard the sharp crack of the door slamming open. Get away from her.
Vincenzo’s voice was death itself. He stood in the doorway flanked by four of his men, his expression so cold, so absolutely merciless that the men attacking me froze. Boss, we were just— You touched what’s mine.
Vincenzo moved with terrifying speed, his fist connecting with the man’s jaw in a punch that sent him crashing into the display case.
Glass shattered, pastries flying. The fight that followed was brutal and brief. Vincenzo’s men subdued the intruders with efficient violence, while Vincenzo himself pulled me behind him, shielding me with his body. Are you hurt?
His hands ran over me, checking for injuries. When he saw the red marks on my wrist where I had been grabbed, something animal and vicious flashed in his eyes. I’m okay, I assured him, even though I was shaking.
Vincenzo, I’m okay. He turned to the men being held by his guards, both now bloodied and clearly terrified. Who sent you?
The Volkov organization, the taller one spat blood. They want to negotiate by attacking my fiancee. Vincenzo’s voice was deadly quiet in her place of business. We just wanted to get your attention. You have it. He looked at his men. Take them to the warehouse. I’ll deal with them later.
Then to me, gentle despite the violence still lingering in his posture. Come on, let’s get you out of here. No. I pulled away from his protective hold.
No, I’m not leaving. Alessia, this is my bakery, Vincenzo. Mine. I’m not going to let them chase me out of it. I looked at the shattered display case, the pastries scattered across the floor.
I need to clean this up. Need to salvage what I can. Then my men will help you. It wasn’t a suggestion. For the next two hours, Vincenzo’s feared enforcers swept glass and rehung the door that had been knocked loose.
They worked in silence, these dangerous men, moving with surprising care around the fragile space of my bakery. Rosa arrived to find me directing them, her eyes wide with shock at the scene. Madonna Mia, what happened? An accident, I said, using the careful language I had learned. Everything’s fine now. After the mess was cleaned and Rosa had been assured of her safety, Vincenzo pulled me aside. You need to close the bakery for a few days, just until I can ensure this won’t happen again. No. I crossed my arms. We talked about this. You don’t make decisions about my business.
Someone attacked you, Alessia, grabbed you, threatened you in your own bakery. His control was fraying, fear and fury mixing into something volatile. I can’t protect you if you won’t let me. I didn’t say you couldn’t protect me, I said.
I said you couldn’t control me. There’s a difference. Is there? He ran his hands through his hair, frustration evident. Because from where I’m standing, keeping you safe requires control, requires making sure you’re not vulnerable. I will always be vulnerable, I said quietly. That’s the price of being with you. We both knew that going in. That doesn’t mean I have to like it.
His voice broke slightly.
Doesn’t mean I can watch someone hurt you and not destroy everything in response. I took his hands, feeling them tremble. I know, but you have to trust me to make my own choices, even dangerous ones.
Six months, he said suddenly, fiercely. That’s how long you wanted before answering my proposal.
Can you honestly tell me this hasn’t changed your answer? I looked around my bakery, at the men who had cleaned up the aftermath of violence, at Rosa, who had stayed despite her fear, at Vincenzo, whose hands held mine with desperate gentleness. It’s changed everything and nothing.
What does that mean? It means I understand now what choosing you really costs, what being part of your world really means. I squeezed his hands.
And I’m still choosing you. But I need you to choose me, too, Vincenzo. Not just my safety, me, my independence, my right to make my own decisions, even when they terrify you. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, something had shifted. You’re asking me to let go.
I’m asking you to trust that I’m strong enough to stand beside you, not behind you. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then slowly he nodded.
No closing the bakery, but extra security discreetly placed. And you carry this? He pulled a small device from his pocket, pressed the button, and my men arrived in under two minutes. Non-negotiable. I took the device, recognizing it as the compromise it was. Deal. And Alessia? He pulled me close, his forehead resting against mine. When those six months are up and I ask again, think about saying yes, because I don’t think I can survive losing you. Then don’t lose me, I whispered. Just love me. That’s all I need. Three months passed in relative peace.
The attack on my bakery seemed to have established a boundary. Vincenzo’s response, whatever it had been, was effective. No more men burst through my door with demands.
No more threats. But the incident had changed something between us.
Vincenzo struggled visibly with his need to protect me and his promise to let me maintain my independence. I saw it in the way he watched me when he thought I wasn’t looking, in the careful questions about my day, in the increased security I pretended not to notice.
He loves you terribly, Rosa observed one morning as we prepared the day’s first batch of focaccia. Like it causes him physical pain.
I know, I said quietly. And you? Do you love him back? Yes. No hesitation. Three months ago, I would have qualified that answer. Now I knew the truth.
I loved Vincenzo Catalano, bad boy and mob boss, with all his violence and tenderness, his control and vulnerability. I loved the way he looked at me like I was his salvation, the way he fought himself to give me the freedom I needed. The question of marriage hung between us, unspoken, but present.
We were nearly at the six-month mark I had requested. Soon he would ask again, and I would need an answer.
The decision was made for me on a cold December morning.
I woke in Vincenzo’s bed in the brownstone I had been staying at more and more frequently to find him already dressed and on the phone. His voice was tight with barely controlled fury.
When? A pause. How many men? Another pause. Longer. I’m on my way. He noticed me awake and ended the call abruptly. I have to go. There’s a situation.
What kind of situation? The kind where people die if I don’t handle it personally. He crossed to the bed, cupping my face. Stay here. Don’t leave the house. My men will be outside.
Vincenzo, please. Alessia, for once, just do what I ask.
He kissed me hard, desperately, then was gone. I tried to settle back into bed, but anxiety gnawed at me. Something about the call, about the look in his eyes, had been different, more urgent, more afraid.
By noon, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I called his phone and it went straight to voicemail. Called again. Same result. I was reaching for my coat when Vincenzo’s guard, Marco, appeared in the doorway. Mrs. Amato, Mr. Catalano asked me to inform you— Where is he? I demanded.
Marco’s expression was carefully neutral. He’s handling a business matter. Don’t lie to me, Marco. What’s happening? He hesitated, then seemed to make a decision. The Volkov organization, they’ve taken three of our men.
They want Mr. Catalano to meet with them personally to negotiate their release. Ice flooded my veins. That’s a trap. Yes. And he’s walking into it anyway. Not a question.
Those men are his responsibility. Their families depend on him. He won’t leave them to die. I grabbed my coat, my mind racing. I’m coming with you, Mrs. Amato. That’s not— I said I’m coming.
I fixed him with the same fierce look I gave suppliers who tried to shortchange me on flour. Take me to him now.
The warehouse district on the south side was a maze of abandoned buildings and broken glass. Marco drove through it with grim efficiency, finally parking outside a corrugated metal structure that looked ready to collapse.
He’ll be furious if you go in there, Marco warned. Let him be furious. I was already out of the car, walking toward the entrance where two of Vincenzo’s men stood guard. They tried to stop me. I used my fiercest bakery owner voice.
Let me through or explain to your boss why you prevented his fiancée from entering. Your choice. They exchanged glances and stepped aside.
The interior of the warehouse was cavernous and cold. I heard voices before I saw anyone, one in heavily accented English and Vincenzo’s in response.
You want your men back, the Russian was saying, then give us what we want: territory, the docks, the construction contracts, everything. And if I refuse?
Vincenzo’s voice was calm, deadly.
Then your men die, and we keep taking more until you give us what we want.
I rounded a support column and took in the scene. Three of Vincenzo’s men were on their knees, hands bound, guns pointed at their heads.
Vincenzo stood across from them, alone and seemingly unarmed, facing a group of Russians led by a man I recognized from photographs, Sergey Volkov himself. There has to be another way, Vincenzo said.
There is. Sergey’s smile was cruel. Give us the girl, the baker. She matters to you. She’s worth territory, worth contracts. Give her to us and your men go free. Everything in me went cold. They wanted to trade me for his men’s lives.
Never. The single word from Vincenzo was absolute. She’s not part of this. Then your men die. Sergey raised his hand. Wait. I stepped forward before my courage could fail.
Every gun in the room swung toward me, but I kept my eyes on Vincenzo, on the horror and fury warring on his face. Alessia, get out of here. His voice shook.
Now. No. I looked at Sergey. You want to trade me for those men? Fine, but I have conditions. You’re not trading anything, Vincenzo snarled.
Marco— But Marco wasn’t there. I had made him wait outside, and the guards had apparently decided this was above their authority to stop.
What conditions? Sergey asked, intrigued. The men go free, all of them, including Vincenzo. And you give me your word as whatever you are that they won’t be harmed, that this ends the conflict. Done. Alessia, no.
Vincenzo started toward me, but one of the Russians grabbed him, pressing a gun to his temple. Let him go, I said, my voice steadier than I felt.
You have what you want. Indeed. Sergey gestured, and his men released Vincenzo’s guards, who stumbled toward their boss, then to Vincenzo himself. Go take your men. Leave the girl.
Vincenzo’s eyes met mine across the space between us, anguish and rage and love written in every line of his face.
I won’t leave you. You have to. I kept my voice level. Those men have families who need them. You have responsibilities. I’m just— You’re everything, he interrupted, raw emotion breaking through his control.
You’re my conscience, my redemption, my only honest thing in this corrupt world. I can’t lose you. Then trust me. I smiled, hoping it looked braver than I felt. You said I made you want to be better. Let me help you be better.
Let me save these men. Touching, Sergey said dryly. But we’re on a schedule. Catalano, you leave now, or the deal’s off and everyone dies.
Vincenzo looked at me for a long moment, then did something that shattered my heart. He knelt right there in that warehouse, this proud, powerful man, and bowed his head.
Please, he said to Sergey, take anything else.
My territory, my money, my life, but not her. Please. Sergey laughed. How the mighty have fallen. Get up, Catalano. You’re embarrassing yourself. I’m begging you. Vincenzo’s voice broke. I’ll give you everything.
The docks, the construction, the shipping contracts, all of it. Just let her go. The warehouse went utterly silent. Even the Russians looked shocked.
You’d give up your empire? Sergey asked slowly. For a baker? For her, yes. I understood then what I was witnessing. Vincenzo Catalano, the feared Don, was sacrificing everything he had built, everything he had bled for to save me, not through violence or threats, but through surrender, through love. Interesting. Sergey studied us both.
Very interesting. Please, Vincenzo said again, and the naked desperation in his voice made my eyes burn with tears. Sergey, I spoke quietly, and the Russians’ gaze shifted to me. If you let me go, you lose nothing.
If you keep me, you make an enemy who will never stop coming for you. He’ll give you the territory now, but he’ll take it back. He’ll hunt you to the ends of the earth, because that’s what men like him do when they lose the thing they love most.
Sergey considered this, then surprised us all by laughing. You’re right. And honestly, I have no interest in starting a war that will cost me more than any territory is worth.
He looked at Vincenzo. Get up. Take your woman. Take your men. Go. What? Vincenzo’s head snapped up.
I’m not an animal, Sergey gestured dismissively. This was never about the baker. This was about making you remember what it feels like to be human, to love something more than power. Congratulations, Catalano.
You passed the test. Test? Vincenzo’s voice was dangerous. My father was killed by a man who forgot how to be human, who saw people only as assets and enemies. I watched him become a monster. Sergey’s expression turned grim.
I wanted to see if you were the same, if you’d trade the woman you loved for territory, for three soldiers. You didn’t. You were willing to give up everything.
That makes you better than my father, better than most of us. He waved his men back. Go. We’ll negotiate territory like civilized people, not animals.
And Catalano, marry her. Women like that don’t come along twice. The drive back to Vincenzo’s brownstone was silent. His men took their own vehicles. Vincenzo and I sat in the back of the SUV, his hand gripping mine so tightly it hurt.
Neither of us spoke. We couldn’t. Once inside, in the privacy of his study, the dam broke. Vincenzo pulled me against him, his body shaking. I thought I’d lost you. I thought— I know.
I held him tightly, feeling wetness against my neck. He was crying, this powerful, dangerous man crying for me. Don’t ever do that again, he demanded, his voice fierce.
Don’t ever risk yourself like that. I had to. Those men— Damn the men, he pulled back to look at me, his eyes red. I would have let them all die to keep you safe.
May you like
Does that make me a monster? Probably, but I don’t care. You’re more important than anything, than everyone. That’s not true, and you know it. I cupped his face. Those men have families, children. You wouldn’t have been able to live with yourself if they died because you were protecting me.
Maybe not. He caught my wrists, holding my hands against his face. But I couldn’t live without you either. The choice would have destroyed me. You understood that. That’s why you walked into that warehouse. Why you offered yourself? Yes. Simple, honest.
