War of A Rose

War of a Rose • Chapter 34

Chapter Thirty-four
Rosaelia

We had fallen into an unspoken cycle. For four days, I had been locked inside of Alessio's bedroom. I was told I wasn't allowed to leave the room until I talked to him and I was fully prepared to rot inside these walls before I did. But tonight was different.

He stumbled into the room as he had been for the past three nights. This time, he could hardly walk from how wasted he was. I peeked my eyes open, watching as he stumbled into the dark room. The only light was from the hallway, but even it was gone after he shut the door. I listened as he walked around the room. And waited as he fumbled with the switch to turn the lamp on. When the small light turned on, I saw the busted skin of his knuckles and the blood that ran down them.

I trailed up his white shirt, which had been unbuttoned. Lines of red ran down the center of his chest, and I was off the couch before I could convince myself to ignore him. I skidded to a stop before him.

Dropping to my knees, I took his hand in my tiny palm, "What happened, Alessio?" The smell of metal and whiskey flooded my nostrils as I brought his hand to my face, trying to inspect his wound.

"God, you reek, Alessio. Did you drink the whole bottle?" His only response was a grunt as I lifted his hand to the light.

"Where is your first aid kit?" His gaze dropped to my curious eyes as I looked up at him. When he did not answer, I dropped his hand and stood from the ground, "Hold on."

I left him on the edge of the bed as I walked into the bathroom. I flipped the switch and dropped to the floor to rummage through the cabinets. Finally, I found the small white box under the sink.

I emerged from the bathroom clutching the tiny container in my hand. My breath hitched in my throat as I looked at the drunk man on the bed. He had taken his shirt completely off. Black ink ran down both of his arms and across his chest. I had seen his tattoos before, but I had never really taken a moment to appreciate them.

Different symbols were scattered down his biceps. A few names were written in tiny thick letters. I had never really looked at them up close before. But I had seen them enough times to realize that there was something different about them. Something new. My grip loosened on the kit, causing it to fall to the floor. Sucking in a deep breath, I palmed the spot on his chest, right over his heart.

"When did you get this?" I asked in a whisper. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the black ink.

"Sei la mia rosa." He said aloud as I read over the words carved into his skin. And above them sat a portrait of a rose.

"Alessio." His name fell from my lips in disbelief. It was all I could muster. He got a tattoo of a rose on his chest right where his heart was. But why?

Snapping out of my trance, I dropped back to the floor and picked up the first-aid kit. After popping it open, I pulled out an alcohol wipe and began wiping at his knuckles. He didn't so much as blink as I wiped across his fingers. He just stared down at me. When I was done cleaning the blood from his hand, I reached for his chest. Before I could dab at the trail of red, his hand caught my wrist.

"I miss you, little rose." That husked voice confesses, hardly louder than a whisper.

I swallowed, my throat growing dry at his words, "What?"

"I miss you so fucking much that I can't stand it. I'm breaking without you next to me. I need you to function, and I fucking hate it. But I," He stops himself short. Subconsciously, my free hand intertwines with his.

"You what, Alessio?" I asked, needing to know what he was going to say. Letting go of my wrist, he lifted his hand to my face and tucked the strand of curls behind my ear. Cupping my cheek, those icy eyes soften. Weaken for the first time in their life.

"I can't sleep without you. I come in here every single night and watch you while you sleep on that couch." My heart skips at his words because, for the past three nights, I've laid on that couch tossing and turning, thinking that he is sleeping. When really, he's been awake the entire time.

"I've never been able to sleep. And I never realized why until I had you in my bed, and for the first time in forever, I slept. Actually fucking slept instead of tossing and turning all goddamn night."

I gaped at him. Where was this coming from? Why tell me now?

"I've never loved anyone before, Rosaelia. I've lived every single day of my life with a black heart because I needed it to survive. If I loved, then I had a weakness. And when you're a boss, you cannot afford to be weak. It will get you killed. But I don't care anymore. I can't fucking take it. Being away from you is worse than death." He admitted. His thumb drew circles against my cheek, and I found myself leaning into his touch, wanting to hear more, basking in the realization that I affected him just as much as he affected me. And I thought, maybe we were equals after all.

"I have never loved anyone, Rosaelia," He repeated. I froze when he slid from the edge of the bed and dropped to his knees in front of me. Even on his knees, he still towered over me, "But I think—I know that I love you, little rose. Because the thought of losing you makes me weak. You are my only weakness, and I tried so hard to fight this, but you planted your thorns inside my chest, and they seeped into my blackened heart, making it turn as red as a rose." Poetic Alessio was everything. I could've listened to him forever if it weren't for the thunderstorm inside my head.

Alessio loved me. The made man with a blackened heart and lost soul—loved me. A made woman, fated to be nothing but his good little wife. Inferior to him. But Alessio, he stole my fate, and at first, I hated him for it. I didn't know that he only took it to twist and bend it to his will, so I was now fated to be his equal.

And I loved him for that. But I could never tell him because if I did, I would have to tell him the truth. I would have to tell him how I planned to kill him because if I didn't, my father would, and I owed it to him as his equal to tell him the truth. I blinked my tears away. They stung my eyes, threatening to spill down my cheeks.

"Say something," Alessio begged. With both of his hands he cupped my face.

I should've lied to him. I should've walked away. But I didn't. I looked into those icy eyes and saw the soul staring back at me. I couldn't walk away. Not now. I braved those eyes that burned with the same fire I felt growing inside of me.

And I said, "I love you, Alessio."

I had succeeded, after all. I weaseled my way into the Altieri family, earned my place, built trust with his men, and I made the boss love me. I held his life in my hands now. The only question I could ask myself now was, what would I do with it now? He already admitted that his heart was encased with my thorns. Should I rip it in half from the inside out?

••••
A/N
Hi babes! I just wanted to pop in and say that I decided to split the previous chapter into two as we are nearing the end of the this book & unfortunately I've got to start wrapping it up. But don't worry! This is ONLY book one in the Mafia's Flower series. We still have a long way until the end of Alessio and Rosaelia's story.

Anyways,

Love and luck always