Ciao, Amore [Carlos Sainz]

Veintiuno

Though Maldonado's takeover lasted only a few days, its aftermath was stretching more than that. The fear, the threat was gone, but the time has come to heal the wounds and clean up which, to many's surprise, turned out to be the hardest thing. Alessandra tried her best to help her crew bounce back. She also tried not to think about what happened in the dining room. She tried to wash away the feeling of cold barrel against her temple. She wished to not remember how her heart was hammering, knowing she couldn't escape death anymore. She tried all those things, but it seemed as if Carlos was reliving those awful moments every night in his dreams for both of them. Alessandra didn't sleep much because of it. Sometimes his screams were waking her up in the middle of the night. Tonight when they laid in bed together, she knew it won't be any different. She was staring at the ceiling, her eyes were slowly closing when Carlos started to shift on his side of the bed. She turned her head to see muscles of his face twitching here and there. He mumbled her name quietly, fear hearble in his voice, while his fists grabbed onto the sheets. Alerted by it, Alessandra moved closer to him, her palm landing on his cheek. "Carlos". She whispered his name with her thumb caressing his soft skin. "Amore, wake up". She called for him a few more times before his eyes opened. Carlos' hues were looking directly at her in the dark like he couldn't believe the images he has just seen were once again a nightmare. "It was just a bad dream. You have nothing to be afraid of". She said softly, playing with black strands of his hair spread out on the pillow. She then laid her palm on his chest where she could feel his heart beating rapidly. "I'm here". Her voice combined with her touch soothed him to the point when Carlos took a deep breath to clear his head. He just couldn't get over past events. He was so close to loosing the only woman he ever loved. His Alessandra was forced to put a gun against her beautiful head and in the name of what? He would rather be in her place that day. He would rather be tortured and killed millions of times if that meant she would be safe. Alessandra's life was too precious to be sacrificed for him. If her heart stopped beating, it would be like ripping out his own. And the thought how easily it came to her, how she wanted to shoot herself... That terrified him, because next time she'll be so determined they might not be so lucky. "Carlos". Her voice stopped his endless train of thoughts. "Don't go there again, please". She asked and he turned his head to see her better. "If you've died that day, it would be the worst day of my life. It would be the end of me, Alessandra". He said with his throat squeezed as the new wave of tears was approaching. At first, Carlos could make an impression of a man without feelings inside. A guy who's good in his job, because he doesn't feel anything. In truth, Carlos was fragile, but as a mobster he wasn't allowed to show it to anyone and only Alessandra knew this side of him. "I can say the same about you. You know that I can't live without you. But if someone asked me tomorrow to do that again, I would. Because I love you". Carlos shook his head. "That's what scares me, amore. You can't think that. You can't...". A loud sob interrupted his words. Alessandra bit on her lower lip. Carlos' tears often make her cry too, but this time she needed to force them back. She craddled her lover in her arms, their bodies pressing against each other, their limbs entangled together under the blanket. Carlos rested his head on her shoulder, but as he finished sobbing he changed a bit his position to lay his head on her chest. He closed his eyes, hearing Alessandra's heart and feeling its beating on his cheek. She caressed his troubled head, his tensed shoulders and back until she felt him drifting off to sleep again. She laid with him like this, keeping him close and it calmed her down as well. Alessandra fell asleep shortly after and none of them woke up again throughout the night.

In the morning, Alessandra found a small note on Carlos' pillow next to hers. Apparently, Sergio got up much earlier than usual, so he called a small meeting with few people in the kitchen downstairs. She didn't mind. After crisis with Pastor there was another one awaiting the crew, especially its boss. Once Lawrence Stroll finds out that Max and the whole West Coast crew had different opinion on object at issue, he will definitely take actions against Sergio. That couldn't happen. Punishing Sergio shortly after the crew was attacked, their mansion destroyed will certaintly tear the South apart. And when Mr. Stroll will leave there will be nothing to put back together. Alessandra swallowed hard at the thought that maybe this is what the leader of the North truly wants. He already owned the territory of the East with inconviniance in the shape of New Orleans which was a neutral place. Appetite comes with eating. Stroll was a businessman. He liked to make deals, expand his fortune for his son. "His son". Alessandra whispered to herself as all of the sudden she gained clarity. The young Stroll was very much different from his father which could make him a key to solving their situation. She felt she needs to tell it to Sergio and the rest before they will make decisions, so she jumped out of bed immediately. She didn't care about her quite messy morning look, still she tied a robe around herself to not reveal too much. Carlos wouldn't like it for sure. Alessandra ran downstairs, heading to the kitchen. On her way she met few mobsters already on their feet who kept themselves busy with cleaning broken marbles, bullets, blood... She had to blink a couple of times to focus on what was important at the moment.