Alessio (The Guzzi Legacy Book 2)

by Bethany-Kris

  That wasn’t right.

  Even she got that.

  And yet, that other part of her was clear, so much so it became impossible to ignore. Knowing might not be the same as seeing, sure, but she had still known and still stayed.

  In fact, she wanted to stay.

  Ginevra realized far too late, as she sat staring out the bay window of Marcus Guzzi’s beautiful townhome the morning after the night at the club, that she was not having an internal dilemma about Corrado and Alessio.

  Of them, she was most sure.

  Them, she wanted.

  It stuck her in this dark place because of her own complex about who she thought she was, and how much changed. Ginevra never said she was a saint, but she had some morals. That in the end, she was the person who understood where right and wrong fit in her life.

  The mafia came for her when she barely knew it existed.

  She’d almost been forced into an arranged marriage.

  Her mother had been murdered.

  All those things meant Ginevra should have made the easy choice—with freedom at her fingertips, she should run from these people, and those like them, that had done to her what they did without as much as a blink about it.

  Because they were made differently.

  And somehow, Ginevra found herself inexplicably and irrevocably in love with men who, while they’d not done bad things to her, had done them to others. She overlooked it before, but not so much now. The man they killed, she bet like others in their business, said awful things—he was not a good man, and to some, he deserved to die for it, and for other reasons.

  But to someone?

  That man had probably been a father—maybe a good one. A husband. He’d been a son, perhaps a brother, a grandson, and more. He was a person.

  Her dilemma in a nutshell

  For herself—just her.

  After knowing what they could do … what had been done to her … After everything, Ginevra still found that need deep in her bones that she wanted to be with Corrado and Alessio more than she had wanted anything in her life.

  Ginevra was not who she assumed she was before them. And she would never be the same after, either.

  That terrified her.

  And changed nothing.

  “Ginny.”

  Turning on the bench seat in front of the window, Ginevra found a very familiar face in the living room’s entryway room. Chris smiled, but the sight didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  “How’re you doing?” Chris asked.

  Ginevra shrugged under the oversized sweater that Marcus found for her. “I’m not sure.”

  Chris cleared his throat. “Hmm. Corrado called—Les, too.”

  She swallowed the ache in her throat. It only became even more painful with every beat of her heart, making it impossible to ignore. Somehow, she talked through it. “I just … need a bit of time.”

  To keep thinking, and to realize, this was the life she wanted. To get over herself, in a way.

  After the time she had spent with either one, or both men in the past months, they should at least give her a day to herself.

  “Let them explain,” Chris said.

  Ginevra’s brow furrowed. “What is there to explain?”

  She understood perfectly well what happened. The mess in her heart and soul needed dealt with now, and they couldn’t help with that. This was on her.

  Right?

  Chris’s features went stony, leaving Ginevra confused. “I will let them know, then.”

  “A lot was taken from me,” Ginevra tried to explain, “and I’ve shoved it aside while I was here … so it’s catching up in different ways.”

  This was one.

  Chris nodded. “I understand.”

  It didn’t sound like he did, though.

  Then, he asked, “Anything else you want me to tell them? I’m about to meet up with them at the mansion in a couple of hours, so I can pass it along face to face.”

  All over again, she considered the conversation with Cara in the restaurant. How she told her, in so many words, to always make the best of this life.

  She didn’t have to make the best of anything.

  Not when she had Corrado and Alessio.

  “Ginevra?” Chris asked again. “Anything?”

  “Yeah. Tell them I lo—”

  Marcus stepped into the entryway beside his brother, making her words stop short as he held out a phone with a small smile. “Someone would like to speak to you from New York, Ginevra.”

  Her gaze darted to Chris, but he stepped back to let Marcus offer the phone still outstretched for her to take. She did but didn’t look down at the screen right away to see if she might recognize the number.

  She wanted to thank Marcus first.

  He had been kind to her.

  Even if he didn’t have to be.

  “Thank you for everything,” she said.

  Marcus shrugged. “No worries, this is what I was taught to do.”

  She looked past him to finish her conversation with Chris, but she found the entryway empty. He already left.

  Damn.

  Ginevra would have time.

  Later.

  She would go back to Alessio and Corrado and say what she wanted to say face to face. They would get it from her mouth, and not from someone else’s.

  She loved them.

  They deserved to hear it from her.

  “Take your call,” Marcus said, bringing Ginevra back to reality.

  She laughed under her breath, and nodded, pulling the phone up to her ear as she said, “Hello?”

  “Are you ready to come back?”

  Ginevra stiffened all over. “Andino?”

  The man on the other end of the line chuckled darkly. “That would be me, yes.”

  “Why are you calling—”

  “I am the one who sent you away,” Andino said fast, “and I should have access to call you if I need, even if I am in jail, right?”

  He really was an asshole.

  And … “What?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “You’re in jail?”

  “Semantics, and I have access to a private cell, so my business, like you, is still being handled.”

  Ginevra moved onto another topic, then. “What did you mean—about home?”

  “Exactly what I said.”

  “You mean—”

  “I heard you spoke to Siena,” he noted, a slight hum in the background of his call lowering to nothing at all as a door shut on his end. “But what she didn’t tell you was just how close we were to the end the night you called. A few days before you spoke to Siena, Darren got caught in an unfortunate situation—a bomb that did quite a bit of damage.”

  Ginevra dragged in a breath, surprising herself when she cared nothing for a man who shared at least half of her blood.

  “And a while ago,” Andino added quieter, “they buried Kev—did they tell you?”

  “No. Is Darren alive?”

  “Barely. Life support most of the way. He won’t come out of it, and Siena only has to sign paperwork after filing to take over his next of kin as their mother is missing, and can’t do the job of pulling the proverbial plug. No one is left who will give a fuck, or can change the fact, that you didn’t marry me, and ran off instead. Not anymore.”

  Jesus Christ.

  “It’s over, Ginny,” Andino said, “and you can come home. Siena said your sisters have been told the truth about you recently, and they ask for you every chance they possibly can. I will be emailing Marcus with the name and contact of a pilot who is willing to overlook a hidden passenger on his private jet when he makes the trip across the border today, where he will land in a safe, private strip to drop the passenger off. You, I mean.”

  It was over.

  She didn’t know how to feel.

  “But we are running on a short timeline,” Andino said, “because I was barely able to call in that favor and contact today. Just my luck that my old friend is making the
trip this morning. So, otherwise, we’ll have to wait and pull strings to get you back home soon. It’s up to you.”

  Ginevra didn’t have to think about it.

  She wanted to be here.

  Should be here.

  But she missed her sisters. She needed to go back to them.

  The boys would understand.

  Surely.

  “Well?” Andino demanded.

  “I’ll be on that plane if it’s waiting for me.”

  “Stop obsessing.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Corrado.”

  He glowered at the phone in his hand. “What, Les?”

  “It doesn’t help to sit there and—”

  “Or you could leave me the hell alone?”

  Alessio sighed.

  Corrado shrugged.

  “Fine,” Alessio muttered, “I need to pack up my shit, anyway. I got the new flight set for this afternoon, so we can head over to your parents together, and I’ll leave for Vegas after.”

  Great.

  Just perfect.

  Corrado said none of that out loud because his pride kept him quiet. That stupid bitch of a thing seemed to follow him no matter how hard he tried to forget about it. He didn’t want to speak up and tell Alessio he couldn’t leave—right now, he was the only person here that Corrado wanted besides Ginevra, and she wasn’t calling.

  All she had to do was use Marcus’s phone.

  Except she didn’t.

  And his phone was still in his hands, no calls or texts.

  The very last thing he needed was for Alessio to leave. But they didn’t get a choice because of that fucking Albania job, and Corrado’s pride kept him quiet. Instead of saying what he needed and wanted in those moments, he kept his mouth shut.

  It wasn’t easier.

  It made sense.

  “Give her some time,” Alessio said, “to process whatever it is she’s got going on in her head, and then we’ll go from there. That’s all you can do—she asked for it, Corrado.”

  “I get it.”

  All too fucking well.

  And it killed him.

  “All right,” Alessio muttered, stepping out into the hallway out of sight.

  Just like that, Corrado was alone again. He was all too aware that soon, he would be far more alone than he was right now. Alessio would be gone—for a week, maybe two, who fucking knew? Ginevra was … out of reach.

  Not taking his messages, or calling back.

  He’d not told her how he loved her. That, more than the rest, he regretted the most. The time had never been right to say that, but he realized now, far too late … there shouldn’t be a right time for love.

  Too little, too late.

  His mind was hell.

  Far too dark.

  Frustrated, Corrado glared at that phone in his hand, and before he could think the action though, tossed it to the hardwood floor harder than he should have. Was it smart? Not particularly, but it felt better than feeding the hot fury flooding his veins in another way.

  Too bad he hadn’t figured that out the night before.

  Getting off the side of the bed, he scooped the phone up in one hand, popping the broken back into place before turning it over to see a large crack across the screen. The battery hadn’t come out, and the screen blinked black and white.

  Shit.

  The screen wouldn’t react to his touch, and it wouldn’t bring up the home screen. Turning it on and off did nothing for him, and neither did restarting the device.

  It was good and fucked.

  A lot like him.

  Fuck it.

  Corrado tossed the ruined phone to the comforter on the bed, settling himself with the fact he would have to get a new one. Right then, though, he didn’t want to do anything. He was feeling entirely too much, and that never worked out well for him.

  Shit was out of control.

  Things he wanted, gone from his grasp.

  His heart hurt.

  Corrado never did well like this. He wasn’t weak, and he didn’t want something like love to make him that way, either. That might have been his pride talking again, but it was the only goddamn way he protected himself.

  Heading to the bathroom, he stripped down and turned on the shower. Stepping under the spray, a hiss left his lips as the hot water stung when it beat down on Corrado’s back. He should turn the water temp down, but at least like this … he focused on the pain of that, and not the fact that he was losing something important.

  He didn’t want to lose anything.

  “Hey.”

  Corrado heard Alessio’s voice outside the shower, but he didn’t reply. Alessio continued talking like that didn’t bother him.

  “Your father called the penthouse—he’s ready to see you whenever you are.”

  “Great.”

  Except it wasn’t.

  Not at all.

  “What happened to your phone?” Alessio asked, the shuffle of clothes following his question.

  “Les, just leave—”

  Corrado didn’t get the chance to finish his statement before Alessio had opened the shower and was stepping inside with him. Naked, too. One second, he had been alone with his thoughts and fears, and in the next, he wasn’t. It only hurt him, though, even if he loved the way Alessio backed him into the wall with a rough, demanding kiss … because this distraction wouldn’t last forever.

  He was leaving soon, too.

  And what would Corrado do then?

  Not that he was able to think about that for too long with Alessio’s kiss demanding attention from him, the clashes of his tongue against Corrado’s hardening him. He found the friction he wanted for his erection along the hard lines of Alessio’s form shoving his into the wall, and the ridges of firm muscle that somehow fit perfectly alongside his own.

  Alessio’s mouth left his to skim along the line of his jaw, lips dragging over Corrado’s stubble as words drifted over his skin. “You want to feel good, then—not think?”

  “Yeah. Just for a bit, Les.”

  “Whatever you want.”

  And Alessio was so fucking good at that—at just giving Corrado what he wanted.

  That knowledge was written in the way his hands ghosted confidently over the slopes of his body. How he found Corrado’s cock with a rough palm to stroke fast while his teeth dragged across his lower lip to leave a sharp sting behind. Alessio worked him high, and as fast as possible, so that Corrado was aching by the time he was done, when his strokes slowed, and his legs were shaking from the intensity …

  Corrado had never been more grateful. Just like that, Alessio had taken his mind from a bad place, to somewhere else. He pulled him from the edge of one insanity to take him right to the cliff of another one.

  He could handle this one, though.

  Corrado reached for the small bottle of lube they always kept in the shower—one of their favorite places to fuck because it made clean up easy. Alessio took it from him as he kneeled down, making quick work of popping it open to get what he wanted from it before he was back to making Corrado think he was going insane again.

  This time, it was Alessio’s mouth sucking down his length, and the fingers that worked into his ass with the help of that lube. There was always something about the sight of Alessio sucking him off that did it for Corrado—maybe it was the way he always looked so fucking contrary and cocky at the same time staring up at him with something akin to a smirk dancing in his gaze.

  Like he was daring Corrado not to come because Alessio was all too aware how goddamn hard it was for him like this. And like when he jerked Corrado off, he used his fingers to stretch him open, and his mouth on his cock to get him ready to blow in barely anytime at all. It was Alessio’s teeth dragging gently down his length when he sucked him in again that about had his knees fucking buckling as the sensation of an orgasm drew near.

  His balls tightened with his.

  Shoulders tensing.

  Corrado’s groan threatened to
bubble out of his chest, and Alessio let him go all at once. Everywhere, he was hands-off, letting hot water and cold air beat down on Corrado instead of allowing him to come.

  Fuck.

  But it was always so much better when Alessio did that, and Corrado was well aware what would come next because of it, too. Alessio lifted to his full height, lips crashing down on Corrado’s for just long enough to have his cock jerking between them before he was spun around to face the shower wall.

  One of his hands hit the tile, the other went back to grab onto Alessio’s side as the man’s hand came down to smack Corrado hard on his ass before he grabbed hard to the same spot. Heat flooded to the bits of his skin where Alessio’s fingers dug in, holding him still while the head of his cock pressed against the tight ring of muscles at his ass.

  “Jesus Christ,” Corrado grunted against the wall.

  Alessio’s teeth found the junction between Corrado’s shoulder and his neck. His gaze pinned onto Corrado’s, lips curling upward. That ringing pain from the sharp bite took away the bit of sting from Alessio working his way into Corrado’s ass with quick flexes of his hips.

  They had been doing this for years.

  Working each other to their limits.

  Alessio knew what to do, and how to do it without Corrado needing to stop, or even wanting to.

  “Fucking yeah.”

  Alessio’s words murmured along Corrado’s shoulder as he finally worked his cock to the hilt. His hand wrapped around Corrado’s front, his fingers snaking along his length to stroke him in time with his next thrusts.

  They came hard—fucking deep, fast, and brutal.

  It was exactly what Corrado had needed.

  He couldn’t breathe, but he didn’t think he needed to. Not when it was far better to focus on the way Alessio felt fucking him, and the ache spreading through his muscles.

  From the bites and rough kisses Alessio kept peppering over his neck and shoulders. To the way he stroked him faster with his hand, tightening enough at the head of Corrado’s dick to make a moan fall between his clenched teeth. And even his fingers digging into Corrado’s hip while his hips met Corrado’s ass again and again at a pace that made it impossible to hold back the orgasm.