Chapter 3
Alessia's POV
After running into Dante, I had only one thought: get the HELL out of this godforsaken place before he figured out how to torture me for being deceived.
I hastily packed my hotel room, changed into black athletic wear, and planned to slip away under cover of darkness. But when I reached the hotel's back exit, several familiar figures were blocking the way.
Fuck. Casino guys.
I turned to try the front entrance—more guards there too. Completely surrounded.
Looked like the back alley was my only option.
Atlantic City's back alleys were creepy as hell at night. Garbage cans scattered everywhere, neon lights flickering intermittently, and the distant sounds of drunks howling in the distance.
Just as I was trying to sneak away, five big guys surrounded me. The leader was Marco, the casino's debt collection specialist.
SHIT! What a fucking unlucky day!
"Ava, trying to skip town?" Marco grinned with his yellowed teeth. "I thought you were planning to disappear into thin air."
I stepped back, my back against the wall. "I know what you want, but I really don't have the money right now..."
"No money?" Marco sneered coldly. "Three years, and your debt has rolled from 500K to 3 million. Three million ain't pocket change—we need answers tonight."
"Give me one more week, I swear I can raise it..." My voice grew weaker.
"One week?" Another thug scoffed. "What the fuck do you think we are? A charity?"
Marco signaled his men to close in. "Since you don't have cash, we'll collect payment another way."
"NO!" I tried to run, but two men grabbed my arms.
Just as Marco reached out to touch my face, several black sedans suddenly pulled into the alley. Doors opened, and a dozen men in black suits stepped out.
"Gentlemen, our boss wants to see this lady."
The lead man's voice was calm, but his eyes were cold as ice.
Marco's face changed, but he didn't back down. "Brother, this woman owes US money. Which crew does your boss run with?"
"Black family."
Marco paused, then snarled: "So what if it's the Black family? We caught this woman first. Why should we hand her over?"
"Because I said so." The man replied flatly.
"Fuck that!" Marco roared. "I've been running Atlantic City for over ten years—I ain't scared of nobody! Boys, GET THEM!"
Marco's men charged forward, but Dante's crew was well-trained and gained the upper hand almost instantly. The sounds of punches and screams echoed through the alley.
Marco was pinned against the wall by two men, blood streaming from his nose. "You... you'll regret this..."
"Take her." The lead man gestured to me.
I was half-dragged, half-carried into the sedan. Through the window, I saw Marco still struggling and cursing, but he was quickly knocked unconscious.
I had no choice but to let them take me.
Dante's private club.
I was brought to the top floor office. Dante sat on the leather sofa, whiskey in hand, watching me with cold, emotionless eyes.
"Three years, and my Alex... what a FUCKING transformation."
His voice was calm, but I could feel the storm hidden beneath.
My blood turned to ice. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Still acting?" He set down his glass and slowly stood. "You ARE Alex. Or more precisely, Alessia Ross, the sole survivor of that massacred family."
Every word hit me like a sledgehammer to the chest.
"When... when did you find out?" My voice trembled.
"Find out what? That you're a woman?" He laughed coldly, stepping closer with each word. "You really thought I was BLIND?"
I wanted to retreat, but the wall was behind me. "Then why did you..."
"Why didn't I expose you?" His eyes grew dangerous. "Because I wanted to see how long you'd keep up this charade, you little BITCH!"
"Dante..."
"A whole YEAR!" He suddenly roared. "For one year you made me think I'd fallen in love with a MAN! Do you have any idea how fucking TORTUROUS that was?"
I saw the rage and pain in his eyes, that complex mix of emotions tearing at my own heart.
"Every night I wondered why I was reacting to a man. Why I wanted to touch you, to kiss you?" His voice turned hoarse. "Do you know how goddamn TWISTED that felt?"
"I..."
"You made me think I was INSANE!" He reached out and grabbed my throat. "You made me question my sexuality, made me feel like a fucking PERVERT!"
I struggled to breathe but managed to say: "I... I had no choice..."
"No choice?" He suddenly burst into laughter. "So you decided to PLAY with me? Make me fall in love with someone who didn't even exist like some kind of IDIOT?"
"That's not..."
"And then what? When you got bored, you chose to die in front of me to end this little game?" His grip tightened. "You thought that was fucking AMUSING?"
My vision began to blur with tears. I never imagined he'd suffer like this.
"You know what? In that moment I really thought I'd lost you." His voice shook. "I thought you were actually DEAD!"
"Dante..."
"Three years! Three whole years I searched for you!" His hand was trembling. "I combed the entire Hudson River, used every connection to find your body, and found NOTHING!"
"I thought... I thought you'd hate me..."
"Hate you?" He suddenly released my throat, but the next second delivered a vicious slap across my face. "YES, I hate you! But I hate myself MORE for still missing a goddamn LIAR!"
I held my cheek, tears streaming uncontrollably.
"Now tell me," he pressed closer, his voice growing more dangerous, "are you planning to run again? Just like three years ago?"
"I..."
"ANSWER ME!" He grabbed my hair, forcing me to look at him. "Are you going to abandon me again and find your next victim?"
I stared into his crazed eyes, heart pounding like a drum. "I don't know what to do..."
"You don't know?" His gaze grew even more dangerous. "Then let me tell you what you're going to do."
He didn't wait for my response before crushing his lips against mine.
I tried to push him away, but he held me tighter. "You can't leave me again! This time I'm making sure you can NEVER run away!"
"Dante, don't..."
"SHUT UP!" He roughly tore at my clothes. "You want to play games? Then let's play a REAL game!"
My athletic wear was ripped to shreds. His hands roamed over my body, movements rough and possessive.
"What do you want, baby?" He growled in my ear. "Want me to be gentle like I was with Alex, or treat you like the little WHORE you really are?"
"Please... don't do this..."
"Too late, sweetheart." He bit down hard on my earlobe. "I told you—when I found you again, I was going to FUCK you to death."
