Under Watchful Eyes

Under Watchful Eyes
The days that followed blurred into something Diamond never could have predicted. What began as a night of tangled sheets and fire-fueled passion had softened into something quieter, steadier, and perhaps most surprising of all, comforting.

It wasn’t just about stolen kisses anymore, or heated glances across the room. It was the little things.

In the mornings, she would wake up to Gabriele already in the kitchen, humming off-key while attempting breakfast. He had this misplaced confidence with food, as though sheer charm could make an omelet flip itself. More often than not, Alessandro would appear in the doorway with that infuriating smirk, arms crossed, watching Gabriele struggle before stepping in to fix the disaster without a word. Diamond would sit at the counter, chin in her hand, trying to stifle her laughter until one of them inevitably snapped, “Don’t encourage him,” which only made her laugh harder.

Afternoons carried their own rhythm. Sometimes they dragged her into their world—training sessions in the gym where Alessandro corrected her stance with a hand at her waist, or where Gabriele playfully tackled her onto the mat, refusing to let her win without a fight. Other times, the hours slipped away in quieter moments: Diamond sprawled across the couch reading a book, Alessandro reluctantly painting her toe nails after getting begged repeatedly until he finally gave in.

And then there were the evenings. Those had become their favorite. Movie nights where no one could agree on what to watch—Gabriele gravitating toward documentaries, Alessandro demanding bloody action flicks, and Diamond insisting on romcoms just to watch them squirm. Half the time, they never even finished the movie; the living room descended into teasing insults, Gabriele tickling her until she shrieked, Alessandro trying not to smile but always giving himself away eventually.

But the nights were a different kind of storm altogether. The ones that left Diamond trembling and breathless beneath them both. When Alessandro’s patience burned away, giving way to rough, relentless hunger, and Gabriele matched him with a raw, reckless passion that set her body aflame. They took her apart piece by piece—sometimes one claiming her mouth while the other drove her into the mattress, sometimes trading control with unspoken rhythm until she was writhing, begging, utterly coming undone.

Her skin burned under their mouths, every thrust leaving her gasping, every kiss anchoring her deeper in their madness. They used her, worshipped her, drove her to shuddering peaks until her voice was hoarse from screaming their names. She would clutch at the sheets, legs shaking, as wave after wave of pleasure tore through her while they spilled their hot seed inside her, filling her so deep she could feel the heat pooling within. And when they finally pulled out, her swollen pussy would still clench around nothing, desperate, aching, fluttering as though begging for more.

But afterwards, once the heat died down, they were different men. Gabriele would scoop her up against his chest like she was something small and fragile, kissing her damp forehead, murmuring filth softened into endearments. Alessandro would bring her water, wipe her down with a warm cloth, and smooth her hair back from her face, his sharp edges melting into something unbearably tender. They would tuck her between them, one broad chest at her back, another firm body in front, holding her safe while her breathing slowed. Between whispered jokes, gentle strokes, and lazy kisses against her temple, Diamond always drifted into sleep knowing she was adored, protected, and utterly theirs.

Some nights weren’t about fire at all, but laughter. They’d sprawl out across the bed or living room floor with a deck of cards, Diamond cross-legged in one of Alessandro’s shirts, Gabriele nursing a drink, and Sandro dealing with that smug grin that always spelled trouble. Without fail, Sandro cheated his way through every game — a subtle slip of a card, a flick of his wrist so smooth Diamond didn’t catch it until the very end. When he laid down his winning hand yet again, she’d shriek his name and launch herself at him, half laughing, half indignant, accusing him of being a “lying, conniving bastard.” Gabriele always had to play mediator, smirking as he pried her off Alessandro, murmuring, “He’s not worth the jail time, piccola,” while Sandro lounged back smugly, daring her to try again. But the more she lost, the more determined Diamond became, swearing she’d beat him someday. The nights always ended in her pouting against Gabe’s chest, Sandro grinning like the devil, and the three of them tangled together in warmth and laughter until the cards were forgotten.

That's what the days that passed felt like. Diamond more than enjoyed it. It felt like living in a fairytale that she didn't want to end. She didn't want to snap out of it. But at the same time, there were things she couldn't keep pushing away. Realities that she couldn't keep ignoring.

That's why today was different. As she walked out of Adriano's villa, she strutted like a woman on a mission.

She still had unfinished business to take care of.

The late afternoon sun stretched across the patio, warm light spilling over Diamond’s bare legs as her heels clicked softly against the tiles. She adjusted the strap of her mini dress, the fabric hugging every curve, and tightened her grip on the small handbag dangling from her wrist. The villa’s air was calm, lazy almost—until the low purr of an engine stirred it awake.

Her gaze lifted just as a sleek car rolled into the driveway. 

Gabriele’s car.

He parked, killed the engine, and stepped out. Even from a distance, he looked annoyingly magnetic: shirt sleeves folded up, sunglasses perched low on his nose, the faint smirk that seemed carved permanently onto his lips. His steps were unhurried, yet purposeful, like he knew every step brought him exactly where he wanted to be—straight to her.

Diamond didn’t even have time to brace herself before he reached her, his hand finding her waist with a natural familiarity that made her breath hitch. He tugged her gently against him, leaning down until his mouth hovered over hers. For a moment, the world shrank to just the heat of his body, the faint cologne clinging to his shirt, and the smug curve of his lips right before they claimed hers.

The kiss started soft, but only for a heartbeat. Then his mouth parted hers, tongue slipping in with a hunger that stole the air from her lungs. His grip on her waist tightened as he pulled her flush against his chest, their bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces as the kiss deepened. Diamond whimpered into him, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. Every brush of his tongue sent sparks racing down her spine, heat pooling low in her belly.

By the time he finally pulled away, she was breathless, her lipstick smudged and her pulse hammering in her throat.

Gabriele’s eyes lingered on her swollen lips before he arched a brow. “And where exactly are you going,” he murmured, voice low and teasing, “looking all dolled up like that?”

Diamond straightened, smoothing her dress with deliberate poise even though her legs still felt like jelly. “It’s nowhere important,” she said, flashing a small, knowing smile. “I’ll be on my way, if you don’t mind.”

She tried to step forward, but his hand stayed firm at her waist.

“Ah-ah,” he said quickly, lips twitching. “I’ll drive you.”

“You don’t have to,” she replied, rolling her eyes.

“But I do,” he countered smoothly. Then, with a mischievous gleam, he added, “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?”

The word slipped out like an accident. And immediately he realized what he said, he froze.

Diamond did too. Their eyes locked—his widening slightly, hers mirroring the same surprise. The silence that followed wasn’t heavy, but it buzzed with something sharp and unspoken.

Truth is she, Alessandro, and Gabrielle had never actually sat down to talk about the nature of their relationship. Not once. 

They didn't know what label to put on it.

And yet here they were, standing in the sun-drenched patio, staring at each other as though he had just peeled back a layer neither of them was ready to confront.

“So…” Diamond tilted her head, lips curving faintly. “Boyfriend, huh?”

Gabriele’s hand slipped from her waist to the back of his neck, rubbing it sheepishly. He laughed, a little awkward, a little too late. “Slip of the tongue.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Mmhmm. Sure.” Then, with a playful sigh, she relented. “Fine. You can drive me.”

“Okay,” he said softly, relief flickering across his face.

They walked toward the car together, the air between them charged with something new—something unnamed but not unwelcome. Gabriele reached the door first and swung it open for her.

Diamond slipped inside, smirking. “Well, well. Such a gentleman.”

“What can I say?” He shrugged, that cocky grin back in place. “My Papà raised me well.”

Diamond arched a brow as she adjusted herself in the seat. “Are you sure you and Alessandro actually have the same father? Because that man definitely does NOT have the same manners as you do.”

That broke him. Gabriele threw his head back and burst out laughing, shaking his head as he circled the car. Sliding into the driver’s seat, he shot her an amused look. “You really do have a good sense of humor, you know that?”

She flicked her hair over her shoulder. “Well, thank you.”

“Don’t get too smug,” he teased, fastening his seatbelt. Then, leaning over, his lips brushed hers in a whisper of a kiss—barely there, just enough to tease—while his hands worked on strapping her seatbelt into place.

Diamond shoved at his chest with a playful gasp once he leaned back. “You’re such a tease.”

His chuckle rumbled low as he gripped the steering wheel. “Guilty.” He glanced sideways, with a smile that reached his eyes. “So, where does my lady wish to go today?”

Diamond lifted her lipstick, carefully reapplying it in the rearview mirror with slow, deliberate strokes. 

“Empire Trust Bank.”

His tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “The bank? For what?”

“What else do people go to a bank for?” she shot back, smirking. “Just shut up and drive.” she said with a playfulness in her tone.

He raised his hands in surrender. “Yes, ma’am.”

The engine purred back to life, and with a smooth turn, they pulled away from the villa.

For a while, the ride was quiet save for the low hum of the engine. Then Gabriele flicked on the stereo, and SZA’s voice filled the car.

Diamond’s lips curved upward. “Wow. Never pegged you as a SZA fan.”

“I don’t just like her.” His voice softened, sincerity breaking through his teasing veneer. “I love her. The voice, the lyrics… the way her music hits. Greatest R&B artist of our time, no question.”

Diamond turned, studying him as if she were seeing him in a new light. “I love learning new things about you every day.”

He glanced at her, a smile tugging at his mouth. “Me too.”

Her heart gave an unsteady skip before she snapped her gaze forward. “Eyes on the road, Romeo. I’m not in the mood to end up dead in a ditch.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Noted.”

The road stretched out, and silence settled again, this time comfortable. Until—

“Tell me,” Gabriele said suddenly, “have you ever had Italian-made spaghetti?”

Diamond blinked, brows furrowing. “Like… spaghetti made in Italy?”

He nearly swerved from laughing so hard. “No! I meant spaghetti made by an Italian.”

“Oh.” She smirked, feigning innocence. “Well, no.” She tilted her head. “Why?”

“Because Alessandro’s cooking dinner tonight. Spaghetti. He wants us over.”

Diamond gasped dramatically, clasping her hands. “Oh my God. I can’t wait.” Her eyes lit up like a child promised candy.

Gabriele shot her a look. “You’re awfully excited about Sandro’s spaghetti.”

“That’s because Sandro is an amazing cook,” she said matter-of-factly. “I’ve never met a man who can cook better than him.”

“Excuse me?” His voice shot up an octave. “I'm literally sitting right next to you.”

“What?” Diamond teased, her grin widening. “He’s just objectively a better cook than you.”

“Objectively?” He clutched his chest as if she’d shot him. “Nah. You’re just teasing me now.”

“I’m not.” She laughed. “I’m serious. I’m not saying you’re a bad cook—just that Alessandro’s better.”

He squinted at her. “Okay, fine. Rank all of us then. Me, Sandro and Adri. From best to worst. Don’t hold back.”

She didn’t even hesitate. “Easy. Sandro, Adri, then you.”

His jaw dropped. “What?! Adriano is NOT a better cook than me. That’s—no. Absolutely not.”

Diamond burst into laughter, clutching her stomach. “I’m not having this argument with you.”

“Yes, you are!” he argued, stabbing a finger at her. “We’re having it right now.”

But Diamond sat up straighter, pointing ahead. “We’re here.”

Sure enough, Empire Trust Bank loomed just beyond the windshield.

As he eased into a parking spot, he muttered, “This isn’t over. We’re finishing this later.”

“No, we’re not,” she sang, smirking.

He killed the engine, stepped out, and walked around the car to open her door. Taking her hand, he guided her out with exaggerated chivalry.

“After you,” he said, bowing his head slightly.

She gave him a side-eye but smiled all the same, her heels clicking against the pavement as she walked forward. He closed the door, locked the car, and followed close behind.

—

The marble floors of Empire Trust Bank gleamed beneath the soft golden lights, every step echoing too loudly in Diamond’s ears. She drew in a steady breath, forcing her shoulders to relax as she glanced at Gabriele.

“Sit tight. I won’t be long,” she told him softly.

He gave her a look that landed somewhere between protective big brother and impatient soldier, but finally lowered himself into one of the sleek leather chairs in the lobby. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

Diamond smoothed her palms against her skirt and made her way toward the reception counter, where a middle-aged woman in a crisp navy blazer sat typing. The woman glanced up.

“Good morning. How may I help you?”

Diamond leaned forward, keeping her voice steady and respectful. “Hi, I’m here to pick up an item left for me in a deposit box by Chelsea Brooks.”

The woman’s fingers paused over the keyboard. Her eyes flickered with recognition at the name, then softened into professional neutrality. “And your name, ma’am?”

“Angela Summers.”

The woman tapped in the details, then nodded. “Yes, I see it here. You’ll need this code.” She printed something small, sliding it across the desk. “Box number 417. Follow me, please.”

“Thank you,” Diamond said, her polite smile never wavering.

The receptionist led her down a hushed corridor lined with security doors before gesturing toward a vault room. “Your box will be in there. Once you’re finished, just bring the key back out.”

“Of course.”

Diamond stepped into the cool, quiet room. Her eyes skimmed the neat rows of numbered boxes until she spotted it.

417. 

Her pulse thudded harder as she keyed in the code.

The latch clicked. The box slid open with an almost theatrical weight. And there it was—just as Chelsea had promised.

A slim black flash drive lay waiting, something so small yet powerful enough to cause global level chaos.

Diamond stared at it for a moment, her chest tightening. Chelsea died for this. Now it was in her hands—the evidence that could expose Charles Ackerman’s ties to La Rosa Nera and burn him to the ground.

She scooped it up, slipped it into her small handbag, and closed the box with a steady hand.

When she returned to the lobby, Gabriele stood the moment he saw her. His eyes scanned her quickly, checking she was whole, safe. “You got what you need?”

A smile touched her lips, small but victorious. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

They walked out together, the heavy glass doors swinging open into the midday sun. Gabriele guided her toward the sleek black car parked along the curb, but Diamond’s mind had already shifted.

“You know what I can’t wait for?” she said, her voice light, teasing. “A plate of Alessandro’s spaghetti. I’ve been day dreaming about it since you brought it up.”

Gabriele groaned, clutching his chest like she’d stabbed him. “Back to our earlier conversation, how could you rank Adriano of all people, over me? Me!!”

He leaned in closer and stared at her as if she’d grown two heads. “Do your taste buds even work?”

Diamond laughed, rolling her eyes as he opened the passenger door for her. “Not this again.”

“Again?” He scoffed, sliding into the driver’s seat. “It’s a tragedy is what it is. My little brother’s cooking ranked higher. I demand a rematch. A blind taste test. Something. You’ll see—”

His rant continued even as he started the engine, talking like he couldn’t let it go. Diamond just shook her head, lips curved in quiet amusement.

But across the street, another car sat idle.

A black sedan, shielded with tinted windows.

Inside, a man in dark shades lowered his binoculars, reaching for his phone.

“They just stepped out, boss. They’re about to leave.”

Static crackled, then Charles Ackerman’s voice slid cold through the line. “Follow them. Don’t let them out of your sight.”

“Yes, boss.”

“And when you arrive at their location,” Charles added, his tone low and dangerous, “send me the address. I’ll send men over. Armed and ready.”

The man smirked faintly. “Understood.”

The call cut.

Across the street, Gabriele’s car eased into traffic. The black sedan’s engine purred to life a beat later, sliding smoothly into the stream of cars, tailing them at a measured distance.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey guys👋🏻 I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter. I'll upload a couple more before the end of the day🤭. Things are about to get bloody. Anyways I want to take this opportunity to announce that I opened a Twitter account. I want it to be a space where I can freely connect and communicate with my audience about my work and also post updates about future book releases. I'd really appreciate if y'all head over to Twitter and follow me @AmoreLovelace . I have some exciting news coming soon. Have a nice day ♥️