Chapter 8 My last resort

Chapter Eight

Alessia’s POV

Why does it feel like everything is working against me lately?

What exactly have I done to deserve so much trouble?

Did I perhaps step on the universe’s toes, and now it has decided to punish me for it?

Because I work hard. Very hard.

I never asked Stefano for anything that might make me look like a gold digger. I stood by him before things started working out for his company. But what did I get in return?

I wipe my cheeks with the back of my hand, only for the tears to keep coming. It’s embarrassing how much this still hurts, even when I try to act tough. I should be relieved that I didn’t waste any more years on a man who clearly didn’t deserve me. Instead, I keep wondering what Diana has that I don’t.

Maybe I’m just not the kind of woman men choose to stay with. Maybe I’m good enough to date and stand beside when it’s convenient, but never good enough to build a life with.

The thought makes me angry with myself. I know better than to measure my worth by Stefano’s choices, but knowing that and actually believing it are two different things.

And as if my personal life isn’t already a mess, I’ve just threatened a room full of people who could make things even harder for me at Bianchi Logistics.

What was I thinking?

I have no idea how to make Romano regret anything. I was bluffing. I just wanted to scare him and make him think twice before treating me like a helpless little girl.

How could I forget that these people have money, influence, and years of experience playing corporate games?

If Romano decides to use my threat against me, I could end up in even more trouble than I’m already in.

I glance at the broken photograph in my hands and let out a shaky breath. How am I supposed to protect an entire company when I can’t even keep my own life from falling apart?

“Get yourself together, Alessia,” I whisper.

My voice sounds ridiculous in the empty office.

I set the frame aside and start picking up the papers scattered across the floor. My bag has fallen beneath the cabinet, its contents spread around it. I pick up a pen and a lipstick and shove them back inside without bothering to arrange anything.

That’s when I notice the black card lying near the leg of my desk.

I stop and stare at it for a moment.

I know that card. The expensive finish, the gold lettering, the name printed across the front. I recognize it even before I bend down to pick it up.

Enzo Moretti.

His assistant, Dante. That was his name, wasn’t it? He had insisted I take the card in case I changed my mind about his boss’s offer.

I remember how irritated I was. I shoved it into my bag, intending to throw it away or burn it the first chance I got.

Apparently, I forgot about it.

I turn the card between my fingers and read the address on the back. It leads to Enzo’s private office.

Could this be my way out?

This feared man might be able to save me from this humiliation. If I have him backing me, the board might think twice before crossing me again.

I want to dismiss the thought, but what other choice do I have?

I can either keep pretending I have everything under control until the board pushes me out, or I can just swallow my pride and go to Enzo.

Which is it going to be?

I wipe my face with a tissue, take a few steady breaths, and carefully place the broken photograph on my desk. Then I slip the card into my bag and stand.

I’m going to take the easy way out.

When I step out of my office, Iris looks up from her desk.

“Are you heading somewhere, ma’am?”

“Yes. I’m clocking out early today.” I keep walking before she can ask another question.

“Is everything all right?”

“Nothing a few hours away from this building won’t fix.”

It’s a terrible lie, but I don’t have the energy to explain myself. I press the elevator button and step inside as soon as the doors open. By the time Iris can think of another question, I’m already on my way down.

The drive to Enzo’s office gives me far too much time to reconsider my decision. I could turn around, go home, take a shower, and pretend I haven’t just decided to approach one of the most dangerous men in the city because my company is in trouble.

But every time I think about turning back, I see Romano’s mocking smile.

So no. I’ve had enough of being pushed around.

The address takes me away from the polished business district and into a part of the city that feels completely different. The buildings become less welcoming, and the streets grow quieter in a way that makes me more nervous. When I finally reach the address, I slow down.

This is definitely not a normal office.

The building is large and dark, with tinted windows and security cameras watching the entrance. Several black vehicles are parked outside. Men in dark suits stand near the doors, their jackets loose enough for me to notice the shapes of the guns beneath them.

I swallow.

Walking in here feels like stepping into a lion’s den and hoping the lion is in a good mood.

One of the guards steps in front of me before I can reach the entrance.

“Who are you looking for?”

“Enzo Moretti.”

His expression doesn’t change. “Do you have an appointment?”

I pull the card from my bag and hold it out. “I have this.”

The guard examines it, then looks at me again as if he’s trying to figure out whether I’ve lost my mind.

“Wait here.”

He speaks quietly into the device near his collar before stepping aside to confer with another man. I remain where I am, trying not to stare at the weapons or the men watching me from inside.

A few of them are gathered around a table covered with papers and photographs. One studies a map while another speaks into a phone in a low voice. Nobody looks relaxed. Even the men doing nothing seem to be waiting for something to happen.

I suddenly miss the boring corporate meetings I was complaining about this morning.

At least nobody there carries a gun.

After a brief exchange, the guard gestures for me to enter. I step through the doors, painfully aware of the eyes following me. Nobody stops me, but I can feel their curiosity. Whatever they expected to see today, I’m clearly not it.

I spot Dante near a group of men, giving instructions while one of them holds a folder open for him. He turns at the sound of my footsteps, and surprise crosses his face before he quickly hides it.

“Miss Bianchi.”

“Hello, Dante.” I straighten my shoulders. “I’ve reconsidered your offer. I’d like to speak with your boss.”

His gaze flicks to the card in my hand before returning to my face. A small smile appears at the corner of his mouth.

“Of course. Right this way.”

He gives the men a final instruction and leads me down a corridor. We pass several closed doors before he stops outside one at the end.

“Wait here for a moment,” he says. “I’ll let him know you’re here.”

I nod, though my stomach is twisting again.

Dante disappears inside. I hear a low voice, but I can’t make out the words. About a minute later, the door opens.

“You can go in now, Miss Bianchi.”

I take one last breath and step inside.

The first thing I notice is the smell of tobacco. It’s faint, but it hangs in the air, suggesting Enzo was smoking not long ago. An ashtray sits on the edge of his desk, the cigarette already put out.

The office is spacious, with dark furniture, tall windows, and shelves. Enzo sits behind his desk, his attention fixed on me. He doesn’t look surprised for long before a slow smirk spreads across his face.

“Well, well. If it isn’t Miss Smart Mouth.”

I walk toward his desk before I can lose my nerves, taking the card from my hand and slapping it onto the polished surface between us.

“I need your help.”