Alessandro DeLuca

CHAPTER THIRTEEN – ALESSANDRO

It wasn’t easy to walk away from Mila Campbell, not with the scent of her pussy fresh in my nostrils and the tang of her sitting on my tongue. I hated taking even a bite of the food my mother prepared, which I usually loved. I knew that it would remove the taste of Mila from my mouth, and I also knew it would be a few days before I saw her again.

At least, that’s what I thought, but when the weekend came, my mother and sister, Gaia, took Bianca to Venice to see my mother’s sister. It has been a few years since my mother traveled to see her sister. Most of my family has yet to meet my daughter because I’m so protective of her and trust no one around her.

Bianca understands the severity of her situation and that she’s been pronounced dead. It was difficult for her to understand. The road wasn’t easy, but we’re getting better, and she understands that she must remain under our protection.

This is the first time she’s traveled without me. I’m only permitting it because Bones and his wife, Sabrina, will travel with them. They both know how important to me she is and, even more so, how important her safety is.

Sabrina has a close relationship with my daughter and sometimes serves as a surrogate mother.

With that in mind, I’ve planned to have Mila over for the weekend. I want her to get a deeper glimpse into my world.

There are many questions that I need to ask her. Something about her is familiar to me. I know that I’ve met her before or perhaps seen her. Maybe she’s related to someone I’ve known or slept with in the past.

“Come in,” I call out when a knock sounds at my office door.

Knuckles steps inside, closing the door behind him with a large manila envelope in his hand.

“This the background check?”

“It is, and the surveillance you asked for.”

Opening the envelope, I remove several pictures. The pictures show Mila around the city, shopping, touring and dining at a few restaurants. In a couple of them, I see her talking to a man, but they’re different men both times.

“Who’re they?” I shove the pictures at Knuckles, and they fall to the floor.

Picking them up, he replies, “Gino Rosa and Amadeo Esposito.”

“She knows ‘em?”

“No. One guy works in the restaurant she dined at a couple of times; the other’s just a random guy walking down the street. Both were interested and flirting with her, but nothing panned out.”

I shake my head and continue flipping through the pictures. “What’s she doing here?” I ask, frowning when I spot her on the grounds outside my compound. She seems to be aimlessly walking.

“Don’t know. Nothing ever came of it. My guy said she was in this area three days that you were out of town. Just walked by staring and then walked back in the opposite direction about an hour later,” Knuckles says, shrugging his shoulders.

After removing a report, I compile the pictures and slide them back into the envelope.

“Mila Campbell. Thirty-six. Mother deceased. Father unknown. Single. No children. Says here she graduated from University of Bellingham in Maryland with a degree in creative writing.”

I scan the report a bit longer before tossing it onto my desk. “Something’s fishy here.”

“Yeah, I know,” Knuckles replied.

“She worked for some small communications firm after graduating and then quit two years ago. She just popped up in Naples, started a blog, and manages the social media content for Santoro Textiles.”

Knuckles nods.

“Where’s she living in Naples?”

“With an aunt and uncle. The Santoros.”

Knuckles gave me their names, ages, and details about their finances, children, and grandchildren.

“How is she related to them? They’re Italian, and she’s African-American.”

“I’ve got my man digging into the details of that. I’ll get it to you as soon as I get a report. But get this…guess who else is related to the Santoros?”