Page 62 of The Voicemail

“You know me as Alex Russo. I run a private security firm. That part’s all true. But other people know me as Alessandro, don of the Russo Crime Family.”

She throws her head back and laughs, wild and disbelieving. The sound is such a shock I nearly jump out of my skin. When she realizes I’m telling the truth, she sobers fast.

“No,” she says. “No, that isn’t possible.”

I nod. “It’s the truth, Elena. I’m not going to insult you with any more lies.”

She backs further into the bathroom, horrified.

“Do you employ men like Tomaso?” she asks automatically. “Do you hurt people?”

I pause, considering the best way to answer.

“I only hurt people who deserve it,” I say carefully. “I don’t go after innocent young women. Silvio and I may have the same job title, but that’s where our similarities end.”

She shakes her head. “This can’t be real,” she says. “None of this is real! Does everyone here know? Am I the only idiot in this whole penthouse who thought you were just some rich asshole with a bad case of paranoia?”

I want to smile at the question, but she looks very much like she might punch me if I do.

“You aren’t an idiot, Elena,” I say gently. “You didn’t know because I didn’t want you to know. I thought the truth would scare you. Clearly, I was right.”

She steps forward and points an angry finger at me. “Don’t you dare,” she seethes. “Don’t act like I’m the reason you lied about who you are, Alex. Or Alessandro? Whatever the fuck your name is!”

“You can call me Alex,” I say.

“Oh, can I?” she spits back. “Are Alex and Alessandro two different men?”

I can’t help the smile, even if it costs me. “I’m the same person, Elena. Through and through. Some people just know me professionally, and they respond accordingly.”

“You mean they fear you,” she guesses. “They do whatever you tell them to because they don’t want to displease you.”

“Look, maybe it would be easier if you asked me questions,” I suggest. “I will tell you whatever you want to know. Anything and everything. Nothing is off the table.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t want to know you,” she says harshly. “Not Alessandro or Alex or any version of you! You’ve been lying to me for weeks. You’ve made me look like a fool for weeks. All this time I’ve been falling for you, and you don’t even really exist. It’s just a public persona.”

I can’t stop the way my heart leaps when she says she’s falling for me. It’s stupid and juvenile, but it gives me a glimmer of hope. One that’s snuffed out as I process the rest of her words.

“You’ve trapped me here,” she says in a broken voice as the tears start to fall. “You lured me here under false pretenses and now I can’t leave.”

“Of course you can leave.”

“With a gun pressed to my back,” she cries. “Knowing that not only do I have to be afraid of Tomaso coming after me, I have to worry about you too.”

Her words land like a blade under my ribs. I never wanted her to feel this way, and it physically hurts to see how terrified she is. I stand, wanting to comfort her, but she backs away so sharply I know I’ve lost her. Maybe forever.

“I would never hurt you,” I say softly. “If you believe anything at all, please believe that.”

She wraps her arms around herself and looks down at the floor, sobbing quietly, trying to hold herself together. I want desperately to reach for her, but I know that’s not what she needs right now. She needs space. Maybe permanently.

Unfortunately, we aren’t given much of an opportunity. There’s a knock on my door.

“Elena,” I say carefully. “Please, just give me a second.”

She backs further into the bathroom and slams the door in my face. The lock clicks again, and I wonder if she’ll ever come out. I cross the room and pull the door open, surprised to find Luca standing there looking stressed.

“What?” I snap, emotionally wrung out from the conversation with Elena.

“If this isn’t a good time⁠—”