The Boss's Escort

Alessio stepped up next to his brother. The drafty hallway suddenly felt ten times smaller. I kept my head down. I stared at the scuffed toes of my cheap heels, praying the concrete floor would swallow me whole. I had no plans to raise my head. I didn't want to see the cold, dead look in his eyes. Not tonight.

Unfortunately, he wouldn’t let me hide.

"Look at me," Alessio commanded.

His voice hit the air like a whip. Strong. Dominant. I dug my nails into my palms. I wanted to defy him, to turn around and walk away, but my feet stayed glued to the floor. Alessio was a control freak. He ordered people around like it was his birthright. And maybe it was.

I slowly raised my head. I braced myself for his usual stoned, indifferent glare. Instead, his dark eyes scanned my face, and his harsh expression softened by a fraction. The shift threw me off. *How terrible do I actually look to make Alessio Marchese lose his edge?*

"And she comes here by Uber, too," Nico chattered on, oblivious to the thick tension choking the air between Alessio and me. "It’s late at night. Not everyone out there is as nice as me, Cricket. You really have to look out for yourself, right, Alessio?"

Nico looked at his older brother for backup. My cheeks burned. The heat crept down my neck. I didn’t think I could feel any more embarrassed, but standing here shivering in my skimpy club outfit while my bosses discussed my pathetic life proved me wrong.

I made the mistake of locking eyes with Alessio. He flat-out ignored Nico. His dark, intense gaze stayed fixed on me, calculating and heavy. The scrutiny made my stomach churn with fresh nausea. I jerked my head away and stared at the peeling paint on the wall to escape him.

"Go change. I’m taking you home," Alessio ordered.

He said it so casually, like it was a simple fact. But this was the absolute last thing I wanted. He was the last person I wanted to be trapped in a car with. Standing this close to him only amplified the terrifying reality drumming in my head: I was probably pregnant, and he was the father.

"It’s fine," I forced the words out, my voice raspy. "I can go by myself."

Alessio’s eyes darkened instantly. He shot daggers at me. He did not like being challenged.

"Nico is right," Alessio snapped, his tone brooking no argument. "It’s dangerous, it’s late, you’re sick, and you look like shit."

*You look like shit.*

Coming from him, the blunt insult stung worse than I expected. It landed like a physical blow to my chest.

"I don’t want to bother you," I tried again, wrapping my arms tighter around my middle. "I can really find my way back home. I'll just order—"

"I will bring you. It’s an order," Alessio cut me off, his patience snapping. The rigid set of his jaw told me this conversation was over.

He was a mafia heir. I was a stripper holding a duffel bag. He was the last person I could afford to argue with right now. I swallowed the lump in my throat and gave a stiff nod.

"Go get changed. I’ll be out back." He turned on his heel and walked down the hall before I could get another word out. The heavy thud of his expensive shoes echoed against the concrete.

Nico puffed out his chest, looking proud of himself. "You see? Now that it’s taken care of, I can go." He shot me a quick wink and strolled off in the opposite direction, leaving me alone in the freezing corridor.

I didn't dare make Alessio wait. I rushed into the dressing room. My hands shook as I ripped off my club clothes and threw on my oversized sweatpants and a worn hoodie. I shoved my heels into my bag, grabbed my phone, and hurried out the rear exit into the alleyway.

The chill night air hit my face. A few yards away, Alessio leaned back against the brick wall. A lit cigarette dangled from his lips, glowing orange in the dark. He held a phone pressed to his ear.

I froze by the heavy metal door. I didn't want to interrupt, so I stayed back in the shadows. But the alley was dead silent, and his deep voice carried easily through the crisp air. I couldn't help but overhear.

"It’s either you find me, or I promise you, I’ll be finding you," Alessio yelled into the receiver. His voice dripped with raw, unfiltered menace. "You’ll be paying me back one way or another, or I’ll kill you with my own bare hands!"

A violent shudder ripped through my spine. Ice formed in my veins. This was the reality of his world. The Marchese family ran the city's underbelly. They broke bones. They took lives. I suddenly felt a wild urge to turn around, run as far away as my legs could carry me, and never look back.

Then, Alessio let out a rough bark of laughter.

"Do you want to know why?" he asked the person on the phone, his tone suddenly shifting. "Because you can’t be stealing food from my fridge!"

I blinked in the darkness. Food? He was threatening murder over stolen food?

I instantly felt like an idiot. My racing heart slowed down. He was just having a normal, joking conversation with a friend. I had been standing here picturing a bloody execution. A small, involuntary smile pulled at my lips. It was strange. I realized he was actually capable of normal human interaction. He wasn't just a cold, heartless statue all the time.

"Alright, Val. I’ll see you tomorrow," Alessio said, finishing the call.

He pulled the phone away from his ear. He dropped his cigarette to the wet asphalt and crushed it out beneath the toe of his boot. He exhaled a thick cloud of white smoke.

"You coming?" he asked casually.

He turned his head and looked right at my hiding spot. My breath hitched. I freaked out. He knew I was standing there eavesdropping the entire time.

I gave a jerky nod and stepped out of the shadows. I followed him across the empty lot toward his sleek, black sports car. The vehicle easily cost more than I would earn in a lifetime of working doubles.

He reached the passenger side and opened the door for me. I stepped forward to get in.

Before I could duck inside, his large hand shot out. He grabbed my bare shoulder. His grip was firm. He spun me around and pushed my back against the side of his car.

I gasped. My eyes flew wide open. I was suddenly trapped. Alessio stepped right into my space. His tall, hard frame caged me in. He slotted himself perfectly between my legs, pressing the solid weight of his thighs against mine. The heat rolling off his body was overwhelming. The sharp scent of tobacco and rich cologne filled my lungs. I couldn't move an inch. Claustrophobic tension wrapped around my throat. My heart hammered wildly against my ribs.

He looked down at me, his gaze dropping to the thin material of my hoodie.

"Why do you girls always dress like it’s summer?" he snickered. The sound rumbled deep in his chest.

He stepped back just enough to shrug off his heavy leather jacket. He shook it out and wrapped the thick, warm material securely around my shivering body. The jacket engulfed me. It smelled exactly like him. The unexpected gesture short-circuited my brain.

He tilted his head toward the open door, silently forcing me to get in.

"T-thanks," I stammered. I sounded pathetic. I slid down into the plush leather seat, my legs trembling from his proximity. He shut the door firmly behind me.

I stared straight ahead through the windshield. *How did I end up in a car with the exact person I spent all night avoiding?*

Alessio climbed into the driver's seat. The engine roared to life with a ferocious growl.

"Your address," was all he said. He pointed a long finger at the digital navigation screen glowing on the dashboard.

I didn't argue. I leaned over and typed my dingy apartment address into the system. Alessio shifted gears and sped out of the parking lot.

The drive was agonizingly awkward. The silence inside the cabin was thick enough to cut with a knife. Neither of us spoke. The tension gnawed at my nerves until Alessio finally reached over and turned on the radio just to kill the dead air. Low rock music filled the space.

I sat rigidly in the oversized leather jacket. My hands rested on my stomach. For a brief, terrifying second, I debated opening my mouth. I debated blurting out the truth. *I might be pregnant.* But I glanced at his sharp profile. He stared straight ahead at the dark road, his jaw clenched, deliberately avoiding looking at me. I didn't even know for sure yet. Confessing a maybe to a man who acted like I didn't exist was out of the question.

My mind flashed back to three months ago. The memories were vivid and raw. That night in his office. He hadn't said many words then, either. But he had looked at me. His dominance had completely turned me on. When he caught me staring at him, he didn't hesitate. He grabbed my arm, dragged me inside, locked the door, and took me right there. He bent me over his mahogany desk, pushing my skirt up and tearing my panties aside. He fucked me hard and deep, taking me bare in every position possible until my legs gave out. The raw friction, the sound of skin slapping skin, the heat of his cock sliding inside me—it replayed in my head like a movie.

I knew I wasn't anyone special. I was just another girl. But knowing that none of the other girls at the club had ever shared his bed had inflated my ego. That was exactly why his cold shoulder tonight felt like a brutal slap to the face. What did I expect? He could have any woman in the city. I was just a passing convenience.

"I want you to take care of yourself," Alessio suddenly spoke, breaking into my thoughts.

He reached over and turned the radio volume down.

"I’m responsible for you. If you go down, my father will bring me down," he stated flatly. His eyes never left the road.

I blinked at the windshield. *What an interesting, twisted way to tell someone you care.* It wasn't about me. It was about his father's orders. The cold emotional distance in his voice crushed whatever tiny sliver of hope I didn't realize I was holding onto.

"I’m fine," I lied. I looked down at my legs. They were literally shaking beneath his jacket.

I took a deep breath. I forced my spine straight, trying my hardest to appear healthy and put-together. But even a blind man could see I was falling apart.

"I don’t appreciate you lying to me," Alessio said. The steel in his voice made me flinch.

"I'm sorry," I apologized instantly. I didn't even mean to. The word just slipped out under the weight of his authority.

My stomach twisted into worse knots. If I was pregnant, I would never know a day of peace again. Alessio was not the type to sit back. He was the type of man who would ruthlessly dictate whether I was fit to be a mother to his child. He would control every aspect of my life. The thought paralyzed me. I wouldn't be able to breathe, let alone relax, until I pissed on a stick and saw a negative result.

"You’re my dad’s favorite," Alessio continued, trying to justify his actions again. "He won’t let me off the hook if something happens to you."

His words hit me like a ton of bricks. Guilt slammed into my chest, heavy and suffocating. Carmine Marchese had always been good to me. He treated me with respect and kindness. And how was I repaying him? By potentially carrying his unplanned, illegitimate grandchild. I felt sick to my stomach.

*Calm down, Tessa,* I chanted in my head. *You are not pregnant. You are just stressed.*

The sleek sports car turned off the main avenue. We crossed the tracks and entered my neighborhood. I sank lower into the seat. I felt incredibly self-conscious. The streets here were lined with overflowing trash cans, cracked sidewalks, and flickering yellow streetlights. Alessio Marchese was a man who belonged in penthouses and luxury clubs. He probably wouldn't even consider stepping foot in this slum under any normal circumstances.

Yet, here he was. Driving through the grime just to make sure I got home.

I risked a glance at his face. I desperately searched his sharp features for a sign of disgust, pity, or anything at all. I found nothing. He wore an impenetrable poker face.

He pulled over to the curb directly in front of my rundown apartment building. The car idled, the engine humming smoothly.

"You’re a hard worker," Alessio said. His voice was clipped. "But if you don’t feel better by tomorrow, stay at home and call a doctor."

It sounded less like genuine concern and more like a polite command to get the hell out of his car so he could escape my neighborhood.

"Thank you. And I feel fine," I told him quickly.

I didn't wait for a response. I shrugged off his warm leather jacket, leaving it on the seat. I popped the door open and scrambled out into the freezing air. I practically jogged up the cracked concrete path to the front door of my building.

I dug my keys out of my bag with shaking fingers. I expected to hear his tires screech as he sped off into the night.

But he didn't leave.

I glanced over my shoulder. The black car was still sitting at the curb. The headlights illuminated the street. I could see Alessio's dark silhouette behind the wheel. He was sitting there, engine running, waiting in the dark. He watched me until the very last second, making absolutely sure I got inside safely.

I shoved the key into the lock, twisted it, and pushed the heavy door open. I slipped inside and slammed the door shut. I threw the deadbolt.

The second the lock clicked into place, my knees gave out. I slid down the chipped paint of the door until I hit the floor. The relief washed over me, immediately followed by a crushing wave of despair.

I buried my face in my hands. I couldn't hold it in anymore. I let the tears fall, hot and fast, soaking into my palms. My chest heaved with quiet, agonizing sobs.

I couldn't live in this limbo of terror and guilt for another day.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow, I would buy a pregnancy test and get this over with. One way or another.