The Guzzi Legacy: Vol 1

by Bethany-Kris

  Alessio wanted to be here.

  Even if it wouldn’t be easy.

  Even if it didn’t end well.

  He still wanted to be here.

  “Les,” Corrado said.

  He lifted his gaze from the top button on Corrado’s dress shirt he’d been using as a focal point to ignore the man’s stare. There, in his lover’s eyes, he found an understanding reflecting at him.

  Corrado always had known Alessio better than anyone, and he wasn’t fucking perfect ... that was one thing about Corrado that Alessio had never denied.

  This man in front of him wasn’t perfect.

  He was flawed.

  So difficult.

  Selfish, sometimes.

  But he was still Alessio’s.

  And he loved him, regardless.

  He always would.

  “Are you going to call Andino for her?” Alessio asked.

  Corrado smirked a bit. “So, you’re admitting you spied yesterday on our conversation instead of joining?”

  “Are you going to answer the question?”

  “I have been calling. Three times this last week, in fact. He ignored my calls and messages. You’re informed on how Andino Marcello can be.”

  “Rivals you for the biggest asshole, doesn’t he?”

  Corrado flashed his teeth when he laughed. “Yeah, a bit. I asked Chris to see what he might find for her, and about her sisters, though. I figured ...”

  “Cosa Nostra, made ... connections to New York, yeah,” Alessio said, “I get it.”

  “It’s the best I can do right now.”

  “Is it?”

  Because if Corrado really wanted to, he would make a trip to New York himself, pay a visit to Andino, and get business done. Like Alessio had done when he wanted details about what in the hell Corrado had gotten himself into here.

  It’s who they were.

  Rules be damned.

  Corrado sighed and glanced away. “For once, my pride isn’t playing a part here, Les. She needs to be safe more than she needs to be informed on what’s happening there ... doesn’t she? Yeah, I could go there, get what she wants, and come back, but it’s a risk. I don’t take risks with people I love.”

  Alessio blinked.

  Corrado stared back, silent.

  Alessio thought hearing Corrado say those words would have more impact when they hit him with their reality—their blinding truth. Though he had been watching this man fall in love with that woman for an entire month ... a month after Corrado had already spent time alone with Ginevra before Alessio even showed up, he still hadn’t allowed himself to think Corrado loved her.

  He didn’t want to think it.

  Not when he wanted to hear Corrado say it.

  “I expected a different reaction when I told you that,” Corrado murmured, “something other than ... silence.”

  “I already knew because I saw it coming, and I understand why.”

  Corrado nodded. “And you’re not hurt or—”

  “Was I the first person you told? Not her?”

  “Of course, you were.”

  Alessio’s brow dipped. “Why?”

  “Because that’s what we do, Les. That’s what we’re supposed to do, and I didn’t do that before. I’m sorry. So yes, you were the first person I told. Anything else you want to hear me say right now? Anything else you want to ask about that conversation I had with her yesterday, or no?”

  A lot.

  But he was still trying to unpack all that shit he’d compartmentalized over the years. One thing at a time, and he was trying to handle this thing in the present. He couldn’t go back to the past.

  “I want to talk about now, really talk,” Alessio said.

  “Her, you mean?”

  “Why you did this, yeah. You said when you told me, there would be no going back. That it would change everything. I want to know—so talk.”

  “Koi no yokan.”

  “I have no idea what that is.”

  Corrado smiled, staring down the hall. “You wouldn’t unless you favored Japanese writings, and you don’t.”

  “Because I can’t understand the language.”

  “Anyway ... I learned what the phrase meant days before I came to The League with my father and brother; when I met you.”

  “That doesn’t tell me what it means.”

  “It is the knowledge upon meeting someone that, eventually, you will fall in love with them.”

  “Sounds like bull—”

  “Except I felt it with you,” Corrado interjected, his gaze snapping back to Alessio’s in an instant. The truth he found staring back kept Alessio from saying anything more. “And somehow, I believed you would change everything for me. You did, by the way.”

  Alessio dragged in a hard breath. “And you mean to tell me ... what, you felt it with her, too?”

  “Almost instantly.”

  Huh.

  Alessio ran his tongue along the seam of his lips, considering and unsure of what to say. Mostly because yes, he was still angry this had happened. He became so attached to this thing they had created between only them; he didn’t know what it would be like after.

  Because this would change.

  Corrado’s feelings, even if Alessio’s were not there yet, determined that for them. Would the rest come along, too?

  That was yet to be determined.

  “You get she’s not like us, right?” Alessio asked in a murmur. “She hasn’t been in this kind of relationship, Corrado. This poly—”

  “Or are you scared she might be perfect for us, but then that leaves you vulnerable again, Les?”

  “Unfair.”

  Not everything boiled down to Alessio’s issues.

  Sometimes, shit just was.

  “Why, because I understand your baggage like you get mine? Is it only okay when you want to throw my baggage at my feet for us to unpack together, but not when I throw yours back at you to do the same?”

  “All of this still doesn’t change you didn’t tell me from the start about her, Corrado. The one thing I asked for with us, and you abused my trust.”

  “I understand. I’m trying to fix it.”

  “It’s still hard for me.”

  “I didn’t assume otherwise.”

  “As long as you’re aware.”

  Corrado laughed huskily. “And nice deflection—you still haven’t answered my question. Anything else you want to ask me about my conversation with Ginevra?”

  “Good catch.”

  Because the man wasn’t wrong.

  Alessio just figured this was something he should work out on his own, but especially his darker urges that seemed to want to come out to play more often. It’d been too long since he’d fucked, and he sat on an edge like never before. It was strange how something like sex could drive him up the wall, becoming a focal point in his thoughts.

  “I get you—you already have me. Despite all of this, that hasn’t changed. I swear, we won’t ever fucking change, Les.”

  Seemed not.

  “Okay,” Alessio said. “Did you mean that when you told her it didn’t bother you at all to think of me being with her—fucking her, Corrado, or having her with me?” Corrado opened his mouth to speak, but Alessio was quick to jump in with, “She’s not the same as when we shared women before. This is different. Feelings are at play here—emotions. She’s not the same to you.”

  Corrado remained quiet.

  Alessio continued on with, “Can you mean what you said knowing that?”

  “Yes.”

  There was the truth again.

  Staring him right in the face.

  Corrado grinned in his way—cocky and dark. The sight alone was enough to get Alessio’s cock perking to life. How long had it been since Corrado leveled the look on him, and fuck, he’d missed it.

  The man inched closer to Alessio, closing the bit of small space between them until they were eye to eye, one with his hands in his pockets, and one with his arms folded across
his chest. Corrado looked calm with his easy, arrogant stance, and Alessio was trying to keep a wall built up around him with his.

  They were hard to let down.

  “What do you want to hear, huh?” Corrado asked. “About her, Les. What she tastes like after she’s come a few times? The sound of her screams in the morning when she’s still hoarse and raw? The way she looks on her knees when she’s got you buried down her throat?”

  Fuck.

  “Ask,” Corrado added, his tone dropping, “and I will tell you.”

  He could ask a lot.

  So many fucking things.

  He fantasized far more than he should. To punish himself, and because he wanted it. Wanted her, wanted her with Corrado, and wanted her between them. Everything else was hard.

  That would be easy.

  “Well?” Corrado asked.

  “What does she look like when you’re fucking her?”

  Corrado flashed a smirk. “Of course, that’s what you ask.”

  “You’ve always known what I like.”

  “Watching me work.”

  Alessio shrugged a shoulder.

  Why deny it?

  “She looks like art,” Corrado said, “she always looks like art.”

  A centimeter closer, and he’d be able to taste the lust right from Corrado’s mouth. He was a breath away from closing the distance, but the ringing in his pocket broke their staring contest, and the conversation.

  A familiar ringtone.

  Dare.

  The League.

  Corrado dropped his stare, and so did Alessio. “You should get that, yeah?”

  Alessio nodded.

  He needed to breathe.

  To reflect again.

  Corrado’s presence made those things hard.

  Even when it hurt.

  “I have calls to make,” Corrado said, stepping back as Alessio fished the phone out of his jeans pocket. “Say hello for me.”

  “Probably not.”

  “Yeah, Dare is likely in a mood, anyway.”

  Where was the lie?

  Alessio answered the call as Corrado disappeared down the hall. Not that he sensed the man’s loss, because it was still imprinted on Alessio’s entire soul. Corrado never left, even when he wasn’t seen.

  “Dare,” Alessio greeted, putting the phone to his ear.

  “Les, how are things?”

  “Better.”

  It wasn’t a lie.

  “Oh?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s ... good,” Dare replied.

  Didn’t sound like he meant his statement, though.

  “I have information, or rather, confirmation,” Dare said.

  “On what?”

  “The upcoming Albanian job. We were waiting for the call, the right time, as the client said. They’re nearly ready to give the okay, and it should come up anytime over the next few weeks. You need to be ready to pick up whatever and leave. All right?”

  Shit.

  This hit had been years in the making, according to the client. Alessio had taken the job a few months back even though the client wasn’t ready to see it through back then. Semantics, and details wouldn’t line up quite right.

  “Any way we can change the member for the job?”

  “Not possible,” Dare said, “I have signed the contract to you. Those are rules I don’t bend or break, not even for you, Les.”

  Right.

  “Got it, Dare.”

  “Are you sure everything is well?”

  “Yes.”

  Or it would be.

  Soon.

  “Oh, and Les?”

  “Yeah?” he asked.

  “I need the contract for the auctions signed and faxed over soon to include your portfolio for the potential buyers.”

  Yeah, damn.

  “I, uh ... I’m not going to the auctions, actually.”

  Dare was silent for a moment. “Because of him?”

  “It doesn’t matter why.”

  “Whether I want you to do the auctions is not important, but I don’t want you not doing something you’ve wanted to do because Corrado Guzzi has more control of your life than he should, Alessio.”

  “Dare—”

  “You seem to forget you’re not an extension of him, Les. You’re not his shadow. Don’t forget you were somebody long before you even knew he existed.”

  Yeah, but Alessio liked life better now.

  He could never go back to then.

  9.

  Ginevra

  “Ma,” Chris greeted, leaning over the table to kiss a waiting, smiling Cara on her pinked cheek. Ginevra, standing next to the man, wasn’t offended that he said hello to his mother before he even considered pulling a chair out for her at the table. “Corrado sends his love.”

  “I bet he does.” Cara’s gaze turned on Ginevra and lit up even more. “And I managed to get you away from that penthouse, hmm?”

  A laugh escaped her.

  “Thank you for asking me to lunch.”

  Cara waved a hand. “Oh, it’s a little thing. Chris, help her sit.”

  “Right, right.”

  Chris pulled the chair across from Cara at the table out for Ginevra, and she made herself comfortable at the table. Once he was sure she and his mother were fine, he said his goodbyes, and said he would be back later before disappearing around the partition wall keeping them hidden from the rest of the restaurant.

  And what a place it was.

  Gold draperies, matching tablecloths, napkins, and dark-colored rugs under each modernly decorated table. Large golden chandeliers hung above every table, making Ginevra think she was underdressed in the simple black dress she had thrown on for the lunch date with Cara Guzzi.

  “This place is ...” Ginevra trailed off, unsure of how to describe it.

  “A little much, yeah?”

  She passed Cara a look.

  The other woman only shrugged.

  “My husband likes to go over the top,” Cara explained, “and since this restaurant is one of a few he owns, you can always tell when Gian has had his hand in the design. Lots of gold, a spattering of black, the sense of wealth all over ... it all screams Guzzi.”

  Ginevra hadn’t considered that, but now Cara had said it, she realized the other woman was correct. Like their mansion, or even the aura the couple and their sons gave off, it very much appeared like she was sitting in an excessive show of wealth.

  Not that it was uncomfortable.

  Just ... very there.

  Present.

  Unashamed, maybe.

  Cara waved a hand, and the woman that had been standing at a table nearby, but without staring at them, made her way over with the crystal pitcher of a pinkish liquid. She poured the juice—at least, that’s what Ginevra assumed it was—into the two glasses on the table, and then turned to give Cara her attention.

  “The usual, Mrs.?”

  Cara nodded. “Yes ... gives us a few options.”

  “Sure.”

  It was only once the server left around the partition wall that Cara turned her attention on Ginevra again, a glimmer in her eye as she asked, “And how are the boys?”

  Boys.

  As in, both.

  Ginevra didn’t miss that.

  Cara smirked when Ginevra didn’t answer right away. “I know about them, you know, and about things I am sure Corrado would tell me are none of my business, too.”

  Great.

  Ginevra’s cheeks heated, but still she answered with, “It’s complicated with the three of us.”

  “I imagine.”

  “I’m not sure what else to say about this other than that.”

  “Nothing,” Cara replied, winking. “Complicated sums it up pretty well.”

  Didn’t it?

  Conversation turned to a safer topic as they waited for their food. The designer of the dress Ginevra was wearing, one of the many outfits that were delivered to the penthouse from the same boutique that Corrado seemed
to favor when she needed something special to wear.

  “Why all the gold?” Ginevra asked.

  “Oh, that’s just a Guzzi thing.” Cara shifted in her chair, flicking out one napkin to ready it on her lap. “Blood made of dirt and gold, they like to say. It’s been a thing for a few generations, and started before they were ... a famiglia,” she said, choosing her words carefully, “the family had made their money in black gold.”

  “Oil.”

  “Yes.” Cara peered around their private section with a soft fondness in her gaze. “And as much as this restaurant seems like too much, I still love it the most out of all the ones in the city.”

  “Why is that?”

  “My husband bought it after a date we had here, although back then, it didn’t look like it does now. They had the best poutine I had ever tasted, and Gian took that to heart. As he does with most things.”

  Ginevra laughed lightly. “Really?”

  “Yes. Have you ever had it—poutine?”

  The memory of the one time she had tried the French dish of fries, cheese curds, and dark gravy seemed to come to the forefront of her mind with a heaviness, taking with it all of her happiness.

  Cara didn’t miss Ginevra’s change in expression. “Something wrong?”

  A typical mother.

  Caring.

  Concerned.

  Loving.

  Like hers.

  “I had poutine once,” Ginevra said, “with my mother and sisters. Mama made it because Greta saw a recipe on the internet—looked fun, I guess.”

  Cara quieted for a moment. “Ah.”

  “I liked it.”

  “Ginevra.”

  She peeked up through her lashes, but Cara’s soft smile faded. Instead, she found sympathy and understanding in the older woman’s gaze. “I’m aware of your current circumstances, and what brought you here.”

  “Oh.”

  “I’m so very sorry about your mother’s passing. You are too young to be without your mother, and I bet that because you have two younger sisters, you feel you need to fill that role for them now. Except being here makes that impossible, doesn’t it?”

  “Entirely.” Ginevra shrugged. “And thank you. I try not to think about it ... it’s easier.”

  Well, mostly.