The Guzzi Legacy: Vol 1

by Bethany-Kris

  “I didn’t mean it like that, but ... point taken.”

  Cara made a noise under her breath and peered at Corrado over her shoulder with a sharp stare that pinned him in place. All mother’s had that one look. That stare that put the fear of God into her children, even if she had never raised a hand to them, let alone her voice. When his mother turned that look on him, Corrado wouldn’t be stupid enough to open his mouth and make it worse.

  “And what about others?” she asked.

  “What?”

  “He is—was—not the only person in this world who will have an opinion and something to say about your life, the choices you make, or the way you love, not to mention ... the people you choose to love, Corrado.”

  “I’m aware.”

  “So, what about them?” Cara demanded. “Are you going to beat the life out of every person who dares to say something you don’t like? Because that’s the thing, son. He’s one of many, and the next comment that hurts is right around the corner. You cannot kill every person who has something to say about you, or them.”

  “Why, because you agree with them?”

  Cara’s expression didn’t change. “You know far better than that.”

  He did.

  “Sorry, Ma.”

  Cara turned more on the stool, resting her hands in her lap as she spoke to say, “The world is full of close-minded people who will have no problem opening their mouths. It’s up to you whether what they say or think matters to your life or choices. It’s up to you to decide if what they say matters. You have been fine to stick your head in the sand and hide your activities before now ... but that can’t continue, and it’s not going to work after last night.”

  Corrado’s chest ached from the tightness. Nothing his mother said was untrue. That didn’t mean he liked it pointed out to him like this, not that he was being given a choice. Hell, perhaps that was it.

  Someone needed to say it.

  And he needed to hear it.

  “Figure out a better way to deal with people like that, and your issues,” his mother finished quieter, “and a way that doesn’t involve your hands taking their life.”

  Right.

  Easier said than done.

  “I will handle my people,” Gian said, “because there isn’t much someone can do when you’re not made, and you don’t belong to this organization, Corrado. Being a member of The League saved you retribution for this, and I hope you know that.”

  “I didn’t. I still expected something.”

  “And you’re ready for it.”

  Corrado lifted his shoulders. “I did what I did.”

  “Be careful when you come home to visit,” Gian said, waving a hand. “Respectful, and mindful of your words and actions. They will watch to make sure you’re not stepping out of line against them after this. Do you understand me?”

  Everything about the mafia came down to semantics.

  Theatrics.

  “I got it,” he replied.

  Gian tipped his chin in Corrado’s direction. “Then, that’s all I have to say. I know Alessio is catching a flight soon, yes?”

  “Too soon.”

  That’s all he offered.

  Corrado tried not to think about it.

  “Better spend the time you have with him, then.”

  Yeah.

  Cara pushed off the stool before Corrado turned to leave, and he waited as his mother joined his side.

  “I’ll walk you out.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “But I want to.”

  Corrado almost smiled. His mother wanted something, and so, she would get it.

  Cara grabbed a shawl hanging from a hook in the entry hallway and took her time wrapping her shoulders. She smiled over at her son, a familiar softness coming back into her eyes as she murmured, “I would ask you to stay for lunch, but ...”

  “Les has to leave, and I’m not in the mood, Ma.”

  “I bet. Your father didn’t want to mention it because he didn’t want to upset you more but I’m sorry. I’m sure this’ll work out, Corrado.”

  His brow dipped. “Sorry for what?”

  “Ginevra—Marcus told us she’s on her way to a private airstrip to catch a flight to New York today. I assumed that would upset you.”

  Sure did.

  A lot.

  He hadn’t known until now. He couldn’t call Marcus to ask anything because he ruined his phone. He could use anybody’s phone to do it, but he didn’t want to.

  If Ginevra needed to leave, why should they stop her?

  Yeah, it fucking hurt.

  Life took from him again.

  “Corrado?”

  His mother’s hand came up to rest on his arm, letting him know how stiff and quiet he had gone after she delivered her news. He forced a smile on his face, not wanting to worry his mother, and shook his head.

  “I’m fine, Ma,” he said softly.

  Cara frowned. “Are you?”

  No.

  Still, if Ginevra wanted time and space, well, it was hers to have.

  “It will be.”

  She sighed. “Let me see you out, then.”

  “Sure, Ma.”

  Outside, on the front steps of the mansion entrance, Corrado kissed his mother on the cheek to say goodbye before leaving her to approach Alessio standing under the maple tree with Bene. One look from Corrado, and Bene gave Alessio a shrug before he darted off to join their mother.

  “What’s wrong?” Alessio asked.

  He just knew.

  Because of course, he did.

  Corrado’s life took a nosedive.

  Fast.

  “Nothing,” he lied.

  Alessio arched a brow. “Really?”

  “Yeah, just some news.”

  “And?”

  “Ginevra is on her way back to New York today.”

  Alessio stiffened all over, but returned with, “So, you catch a flight, and meet her.”

  “Why?”

  The two of them stared at one another, saying nothing.

  “If that’s where she wants to be, Les,” Corrado said.

  “You know nothing she wants. You didn’t ask. Neither did I, Corrado, not really. She asked for time, not for us to fuck off.”

  “You have a flight to catch, don’t you?”

  “Corrado.” Alessio’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he scowled. “She’s supposed to be with us.”

  “Answer your phone.”

  Alessio continued ignoring it.

  “Cor—”

  “If she wants to be with us, she will, but I will not force her,” Corrado said, letting that be his final word on the topic. “And answer your phone.”

  “It’s Cree. Or Dare. I’m supposed to be on a flight this morning, but changed to one this afternoon instead. They got a notification for the change, I imagine—doesn’t matter.”

  “The world doesn’t stop for me, Les. I learned that a while ago. You still have a job to do, people are still waiting on you, and I have to figure shit out on my own.”

  “Don’t start.”

  “Start what?”

  “This,” Alessio snapped. “Run because you don’t like to deal. You’ve been doing this for years, and I’ve chased after you the entire time. Stop, Corrado.”

  “I’m not running.”

  For once, he came to a standstill, and he didn’t have the first clue how to fix it. He was one of three people here—he couldn’t help if Alessio couldn’t understand that, not to mention, that he didn’t think he wanted more pain from this.

  Because she left.

  Ginevra left.

  And that’s all leaving meant to Corrado.

  26.

  Alessio

  The phone continued to ring in his ear; the call went unanswered. Alessio didn’t want to let that bother him, except it did. It wasn’t like Corrado to ignore his calls. For another, he could tell Corrado was in a bad headspace before he left, and wanted to check in last minute before
he headed out of The League’s complex to catch his second flight of the damn day.

  That night-long layover he was supposed to have after leaving Vegas in Toronto before flying off the continent had changed to two hours. People didn’t complain when a long layover was shortened, but Alessio was the first to do exactly that. Not that he understood why the flight schedules had changed, but it meant he would barely have enough time to get to the penthouse and back to the airport in enough time to catch his flight.

  But fuck him if he wouldn’t try.

  The ringing in his ear clicked before Corrado’s standard message came on for him to leave a message. Cussing under his breath, Alessio ripped the phone away, and hit the end call button. His calls hadn’t been going straight to voicemail, but rather, ringing through to it. Which meant Corrado didn’t have his phone shut off, at least.

  He was just ignoring calls.

  Including Alessio’s.

  Great.

  The one thing that Corrado was ridiculously good at which Alessio couldn’t stand? Wallowing.

  “No phones on the job—hand it over to Cree, or leave it on my desk before you head out, all right?”

  Alessio stiffened in front of the safe he had been opening in Dare’s office. Not that he had been avoiding the man since he arrived back at The League, but his flights and the shit he had to do didn’t allow him time to seek Dare out.

  Dare hadn’t been in his office after Alessio came over from the Vegas penthouse he shared with Corrado, and so he figured the man was giving him some space to get his shit done before he headed out. Apparently, he had been wrong.

  Nodding over his shoulder, Alessio muttered, “Yeah, I know. Just some last-minute shit.”

  He tried dialing Corrado again, but once more, the call rang through to the voicemail. Jesus Christ, this is the hill you wanna die on, huh?

  Corrado was a shit.

  So stubborn.

  “Les?”

  “Yeah?”

  He pulled documentation he needed from the safe. A file with a plain silver stripe across the front, color-coded to him so he knew which one was his. Inside, he would find identification to get him through customs regardless of which country he was traveling to. A whole set of IDs that would be destroyed once he was back on American soil, and the job was done just in case he attracted attention in Albania.

  Not that he should do that.

  It wasn’t the job.

  He also pulled out a stack of cash—ten-thousand, nothing more, and nothing less. All in small, unmarked bills. He could take ten thousand in cash through customs, and they wouldn’t say shit about it. One dollar more, and they would confiscate it, and arrest him for attempting to smuggle money.

  Because right, that’s what he would do.

  Fun times.

  “Are you listening at all?”

  “No,” Alessio said.

  Dare sighed. “Listen, I understand you’re still pissed at me and everything. I know I overstepped my bounds, Alessio. You don’t need to continue giving me the silent treatment as a way to punish me, okay?”

  Standing straight, and closing the safe, Alessio kept a tight grip on that folder, and the stack of cash as he turned to face Dare in the doorway. “First, anger doesn’t work that way—I can be mad for as long as I fucking want, and you don’t get to decide when that changes. Not that it matters because I’m not pissed anymore, I’m just busy. I have a solid two hours to make it back and catch my flight.”

  Dare nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets as he did so. A sign of his nerves. Growing up under this man’s feet from age ten allowed him to recognize all of Dare’s tells.

  “Sorry, yeah, you’re right. And I noticed all those flight changes.”

  Alessio shrugged. “I tried to work something out, that’s all. It didn’t ... well, work.”

  “I see.”

  “Second,” Alessio continued, because he wasn’t done yet, and now seemed like the best time to get it out because he wouldn’t have time when he got back from this job, “you’re right, you overstepped your bounds.”

  “And I’m sorry for that,” Dare added.

  Right.

  Alessio was aware.

  That didn’t change a lot, though. At least, it didn’t change what he thought or had to say about all of this, anyway. He wanted his line to be clear between him and Dare, and in case the man hadn’t got the memo, that line was way before Corrado. Someone getting too close to Corrado, or the life Alessio shared with him, and his walls would go way up again.

  Simple as that.

  “If you have an opinion, and I care to hear it, then I will tell you. About Corrado and me, though? You could at least give me the same respect for him I’ve given you about Cree for the last decade. I never asked because it was not on the table. This is the same thing—or when you wanna stick your nosy ass into our issues, anyway. Just stay way the fuck back. Got it?”

  “Understood.”

  “And I get it’s because you care,” Alessio added quieter, softening his stance, “and I love you for that, but please stay out of it.”

  Dare shifted on his feet, glancing away from Alessio as he did so. “That’s the first time you’ve said that—the love thing.”

  “I’m doing a lot of new shit.”

  “Huh.”

  “I need to get going. Can you do me a favor?”

  “I can try.”

  If what Alessio thought about Corrado was true, then the man had shut himself off. He was powering down and putting a distance between himself and everything that might penetrate his very high walls.

  That’s how he protected himself.

  Not that there was anything Alessio could do about it right now. Not only did he need to get rid of his phone in the next minute, and he likely wouldn’t get to the Toronto penthouse when he got back for that two-hour layover because traffic was a bitch in the city. He would have no contact with him for the next week or two ... depending on how long this job lasted.

  To Alessio, that all said one thing.

  Corrado wouldn’t fix this mess—not the one made of himself, or the one he made with Ginevra because she had gone back to New York. Alessio would fix it because that’s just what he did.

  They were all human.

  They all made mistakes.

  Alessio would let Corrado make his.

  And he would fix them.

  “Ginevra Calabrese, lives in New York, and she’s the illegitimate daughter of a dead Cosa Nostra boss,” Alessio said to Dare. “She has two full-blood sisters, if that helps to narrow it down. And her half-brothers were recently killed. Her half-sister, Siena, is still alive, same last name. You’ll find her somewhere around the Marcello family now, I think. I need as much information on her as you can pull for me by the time I get back. No one can be aware you’re pulling it and leave it in one of my folders for me to grab when I come back.”

  Dare cocked a single brow. “That’s a woman.”

  “And?”

  “Why are you doing a check on a woman?”

  “Because she’s ours,” Alessio explained, “and I don’t like waiting for other people to figure shit out that should be obvious.”

  Dare didn’t reply.

  Alessio was fine with that.

  He had a fucking plane to catch, now.

  • • •

  Somehow—by the grace of God—traffic in Toronto hadn’t been bad. He went twenty over the speed limit to make it back to the penthouse with lots of time to still catch his flight on the way back, though. Not that it left him very much breathing room for minutes to stay ... because it didn’t.

  Alessio had a whole ...

  He checked the dashboard, the digital clock spelling out the time for him as he pulled the car he’d left at the airport when he first left the city to a stop in front of the building. Right in a No-Parking zone, too.

  Fuck it.

  Tow it, motherfuckers.

  Ten minutes.

  It’s all Alessio
had to spare right now. If in that time he wasn’t able to convince Corrado to pull his motherfucking head out of his ridiculous ass, well, he would go to plan B. Which unfortunately, would have to wait until he got back on the continent.

  Perfect.

  Life loved him.

  Sarcasm was Alessio’s best friend.

  He left the car running at the curb, knowing he would be back down here and speeding through the city in no time to get back to the goddamn airport. Ignoring the look the doorman passed him when he didn’t even wait for the older gentleman to open the door, Alessio headed into the building.

  He didn’t bother with the front desk—rarely did, anyway—instead opting to head for the bank of elevators at the other side of the entrance. A lady behind the desk calling his first name made Alessio hesitate in his steps.

  He shot the redhead a look over his shoulder. “What?”

  She smiled, waving a white envelope for him. “I’m supposed to give this to you, if I saw you come through.”

  What?

  He felt like a parrot.

  Even inside his head.

  Alessio glanced back and forth between the elevators, and the waiting woman. He didn’t have time to fuck around here—it would take him a few minutes to get upstairs, and inside the penthouse anyway.

  “I’ll grab it on my way out,” he told her, going for the elevators.

  “The penthouse is empty, sir. That’s why I have this.”

  Alessio’s back stiffened.

  Of course.

  Fucking Corrado.

  He loved the man.

  Loved him stupid.

  But he did dumb things.

  And this was probably one of those.

  Alessio spun on his heel and crossed the space to the front desk in six long strides. He took the envelope from the woman with a tight smile and turned his back to her as he ripped it open. Pulling the piece of white stationary from it, he found familiar handwriting staring back at him.

  Something else people didn’t have a clue about Corrado?

  He didn’t like to talk. Communication wasn’t his thing because he’d never been good at it when he was in a mood, and he would avoid it at all costs.

  Corrado had known Alessio was coming back. It didn’t surprise him all that much that the man had done this—left him a small note—instead of sending him a message or answering one of his many texts.