Forbidden Bastard

by Felicia Lynn

  For a second or two, we’re all deep in our own thoughts, but there are so many questions, and I’m really not sure where to start. Elianna sighs despondently, and a pensive shimmer exists in the shadows of her eyes. I can’t help but feel bad that my gut instinct may be spot-on. I had a feeling at Matteo’s service something was wrong, but I didn’t know what.

  “Cara, I’m sorry this happened and my men didn’t protect you. We will find out who is responsible. You have my word. Can you please tell us now about this message that was delivered?” my father asks.

  Elianna hesitates, and I’m not sure why. I don’t think it’s because she doesn’t trust us. It’s like she’s trying to hide something. But why? What’s more valuable than her life? Secrets, in this case, are a threat.

  “Principessa, tonight before we walked in this place, I promised to keep you safe. I fucked up and underestimated. It’s not going to happen again, but I need you to give me the whole story and not keep secrets. If you’ve done something, I need to know that too. Nothing is going to happen to you. You have to believe that, no matter what that asshole said,” I vow, hoping that finally this time she’ll believe me. I’m not sure why she should now that one day in she’s hurt. Fuck.

  She slowly pulls her hand away from mine, twisting her fingers nervously in her lap. “He told me to stay away from Lucas and used the term ‘we’ as if it weren’t just him. He said he’s watching me.” She pauses.

  “Come on, sunshine. What else did he say? That can’t be it. Do you remember?”

  She nods. “He said the Nicchi name means nothing anymore, and without my dad and Matteo, no one will protect me. I know there’s obviously a plan to kill me for some reason, but I’m not sure why he didn’t do it tonight. He said it’s not time and only came to deliver the message.” She’s looking very uncomfortable, making me feel bad for interrogating her.

  “Is that all he said, cara?” my father asks, still standing behind the chair. I can see that he’s eager to handle this. Elianna shakes her head. “I need you to tell me everything. Even the parts that are hard, cara. Your father may not be here to handle this, but I am. He would have done the same years ago had my son ever been in danger while under the protection of his family. I owe him, cara mia. You can trust us.”

  “He said to keep my mouth shut and stop snooping around.” She pauses again, and I know there’s more. “He called Lucas and Christian my keepers and said he’d been waiting all night. He said I’d be joining Matteo sooner than planned, as if he had something to do with Matteo’s death. And . . . he told me . . . he told me not to worry; he wouldn’t let me die a virgin,” she mutters the last part uneasily in a whisper.

  Fucking hell. I can’t even remember the last time I’ve felt this violent. As if coming into my club and attacking Elianna under the family’s protection weren’t already enough for me to rip him apart limb by limb, he mentioned my fucking brother too. Big mistake.

  It’s so hard to see Elianna sit here agonizing. On top of everything else, a virgin? And some asshole thinks he’ll take that from her? From any woman? Over my dead fucking body.

  “Elianna.” I move to drop down and squat on the floor where she’s been staring the past few minutes. When I finally get her eyes, I see they’re still full of fight. She hasn’t given up. For now, she’s only defeated by the exhaustion.

  “Thank you for being so strong. I know Matteo would’ve been proud that you got yourself away from a guy with a knife. I know I’m impressed, but you can let your guard down now and get some rest, principessa. Dad and I will be in my office right through that door. I’m going to go check on the status on Gatsby and the other stuff first, and I’ll be right back. Can I bring you anything to eat or drink?”

  She shakes her head and leans back, resting her head on the armrest and closing her eyes. I’m pretty sure she’s not actually going to sleep, but she’s done talking and this is her way of shutting herself off. I get it, but I don’t have to like it. Unfortunately, I have to review those tapes so I can figure out how high I’ll have to aim for a shot between his temples. After I cut off his dick and shove it down his throat for that threat, of course.

  “When can I go home?” Eli asks, her eyes still closed.

  “I don’t know, principessa. When I know there’s no threat,” I say, hoping she doesn’t try to fight this.

  “I can’t live in a nightclub, so where can I stay with Gatsby that will be safe?” she asks, opening her eyes a sliver.

  “You and Gatsby will stay with me. I’ll get you out of here as soon as I can. Turn on the TV if you want. I’ll be right through that door, but it’ll be cracked so we can hear in case you need something.” Kissing her forehead, I force myself to stand.

  My dad is already crossing the room to my office, but I hesitate a moment longer just watching her. I want to hold her and make all this bad shit disappear. First, though, I’m going to have to make this threat go away.

  The doctor has come and gone. Eli has a good size scrape on the right side of her lower back. After reviewing the tapes and seeing the move she pulled, I suspect it happened when she dropped down to get leverage. I almost had a heart attack seeing that shit. If Elianna weren’t fighting for her life, it would’ve been hot as shit, but knowing she was makes it real fucking hard to watch.

  For now, she has an antibiotic ointment on her back and bandages. She’s curled up on the couch with Gatsby, finally sleeping. All I want to do is get her home and in my bed. Even if I’m not sleeping in it with her, I don’t want her anywhere else.

  We’re watching the tapes again trying to zoom in closer on the asshole. It’s been challenging to get a clear picture of his face with all the bodies, and he was real fucking careful to duck his head when he was near any of the cameras. This asshole knew what he was doing for sure.

  “Got it, boss. Sending the image through,” Marco says through the speaker on my phone. Marco is one of our guys, and he’s really good with all the tech shit like cameras, phones, and computers. He can hack anything. The close-up image he’s been working on comes up on the television on the wall. Clear as day. Guess he wasn’t too worried about hiding his face when he was snooping in the widows while pretending to read the electric meter at Eli’s fucking house.

  The man is my father’s age and well dressed. He doesn’t look anything like the scum I’d imagined. My dad takes a step toward the television, glaring. “You recognize that guy, Dad?” He takes another step then stops.

  “Lorenzo Bertoni. He’s a dead man. I need to make some calls on this. This hit will be official and coming straight from the fucking commission. Son, you don’t know who we’re dealing with here, so I’m telling you now, keep her close. And by close, I mean don’t take your eyes off her for a second. I mean it,” he demands, anger lacing his tone.

  He aggressively slams his glass of scotch on the wood coffee table and drops down into the seat in front of the desk.

  “Lucas, that’s not it. If Lorenzo is involved in this shit, we need to be weary of Sergio Vigo. They’ve been known to work together for many years, especially the jobs Vigo doesn’t want on the radar for the others in the Nicchi family. I have a bad feeling, son. Real fucking bad.” I look at the image on the television screen again.

  “You think he had something to do with Matteo too?” I ask, already knowing that’s exactly what he’s thinking.

  “All I’m going to say at this point is it’s all starting to make a fuck of a lot more sense. Vigo wants the family name changed; he’s requested it of the commission, and it’s not been approved. One of the main reasons it hasn’t been approved is because the Nicchi name represents something. No one wants to disrespect Leo Nicchi’s legacy or his only daughter by changing the family name when Vigo hasn’t earned that honor. It would be a slap in the face to the living and piss on the grave of the dead.”

  “You think Vigo’s trying to take Elianna out of the picture to get his wish? But how does Matteo fit in all this? He’s not related t
o the Nicchis.” It’s still not making complete sense.

  “Lucas, you said Matteo and Elianna were attached at the hip. If losing him broke her, she’d be weak, and it would be one less person keeping her safe. Yeah, I hate it son, but Matteo’s connected if I’m right.” My father looks regretful about his suspicion, but I’d be lying if I said this isn’t the first time I also saw worry in the creases around his eyes.

  “So what now?” I ask.

  “We’ll play the game for a bit while we put all the pieces together. First, we need to find Lorenzo, and while we do that, we need to keep Sergio Vigo calm. Since I saw your very public performance with Elianna on the security tapes, which I suspect you did intentionally, I’m sure you expect that news to spread fast. I’ll be surprised if I don’t see pictures of you and Elianna on page six tomorrow. What are your intentions there, Lucas? I thought I was clear she’s off-limits.”

  I knew this was coming. “Yes, I heard the order loud and clear. Since Matteo’s service, I’ve had this weird feeling that she was vulnerable. I never in a million years expected her to up and move to Boston. But I’ve been keeping eyes on her in New York. When I found out she was moving here, I figured my job would get easier, but I didn’t think she’d make me question everything. My intentions weren’t anything more than her safety, but I don’t know what happened between then and now. What I do know is I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe. There’s no fucking room to breathe when she’s around, but the closer I get to her, the less I give a shit about my lungs pumping air. I’m not letting her go, Dad. I need your blessing on this, so tell me what I have to do to get your support.”

  My father sits up and leans toward the desk to pick up a deck of cards I fool around with when I have something on my mind. “Lucas, you have no control over the cards you’re dealt. It won’t matter how many good cards you have in your hand if you don’t play them well. A queen can make a big difference in a game if she’s strong enough. Are you willing to go all in for the queen in your hand? Remember, the winner takes all, son. You want the control? Organize the game. That’s all you can do. You want to win? Go all in on your best hand. The bigger the risk, the better the reward.”

  My father stands up, placing the cards in a neat stack at the edge of the desk, except for one card. He tosses the card down in front of me on the desk and turns to walk to the door. The queen of hearts.

  “Get out of here. Take Elianna home and keep her safe. We’ll talk more tomorrow,” he says nonchalantly.

  Fucking hell.

  11

  - Safety -

  Elianna

  I’m not sure what’s changed, but everything is different, and it’s more than just the douchebag from the club with a message. I knew something was happening last night when I woke up to Lucas stealthily gathering the things one of his men had brought from my place.

  I was grateful that whoever Lucas had given permission to rummage through my things had thought to pack my comfy clothes. After the night I’d had, my soft cotton joggers and long-sleeve tee was exactly what I’d needed. I’m not really sure how long I’d actually managed to keep my eyes open after I changed and was cuddled on the huge leather sofa with Gatsby, but I’m sure I hadn’t slept long when I woke.

  I tried to ask questions, but the bad boy bestia was definitely in no mood to be forthright with information. I don’t think he was any less pissed off hours after the incidents than he was when he’d first learned I was injured. In fairness, though, I really had no idea my back had been scraped by the knife. The doctor said that adrenaline sometimes has a way of masking pain, and since I generally have a high tolerance for pain, I felt nothing. Well, except angry bitch fury. It’s not really too bad of an injury, though.

  I was too tired to fight with Lucas last night so I let him pack up all the things that were delivered for Gatsby and me and pass them off to one of his men with orders to put them in the Land Rover without too many questions. When he kneeled in front of me, tugging his huge man-sized hoodie over my head, I saw in the struggle in his eyes, and it seared my heart knowing I was likely the cause. I don’t like being a burden on any level, and that’s exactly what I’d become to Lucas, in spite of his self-appointed role as my keeper. Only I hadn’t noticed upon waking that I’d been shivering, so my missing survival skills more than necessitate some hero intervention. Cue the bad boy bestia and his hoodie.

  He tossed my running shoes into the tote bag before calling his man, Luis, into the sitting room from the hallway where he was waiting. I’d gently reminded him that I’d need to wear those shoes if we were leaving, but without pausing, he passed the bag to the giant yet beautiful man who had walked in. He instructed Luis to carry the bag and Gatsby and said he’d take me. On that, I quickly jumped up and argued. I didn’t need to be carried. I was more than capable of walking, but Luis and Lucas were both unaffected by my argument. Nevertheless, I’d glared daggers at him when he came over to me. Wrapping the blanket brought in earlier for me around my shoulders, he cradled me in his arms.

  If that move hadn’t felt so damn amazing, I probably would’ve been able to stay mad longer than seven seconds. Unfortunately or fortunately—it could go either way—I wasn’t able to resist the feelings for long.

  We were in Lucas’s matte black sporty luxury SUV with two other vehicles driven by his men following. I’m positive one vehicle belonged to Lucas since it’s the matte black Audi R8 we arrived at Club Indigo in. It was apparent pretty quickly that we were leaving Boston. At that point, he could have been driving me someplace to kill me, and I’m not sure I could’ve dug up any care to fight it. It didn’t matter anymore. The only way not to worry about things you can’t control is to shut down, and that’s exactly what I did.

  It wasn’t until a while later when I woke up that we pulled off the quiet and smooth pavement of the highway and drove through huge iron gates onto a bumpy gravel path. It was eerily dark, and there was no sign of any buildings in proximity. Even though I was confused, not even for a second was I scared. Let’s be honest, if Lucas were going to kill me, would he have had his men jumping through hoops to make sure I had the things I needed to be comfortable and, most importantly, Gatsby? He definitely wouldn’t have had any need to have a doctor check out my wound and make sure I had medication to prevent an infection. After a few more minutes of driving in the dark silence, I finally laid my eyes on the massive estate.

  Whoa. This is incredible. Sprawled across what must be dozens of acres was the home. But not just any home—probably the most incredible estate home I’d ever seen with multiple other carriage house homes surrounding it. It was hard to decipher the different buildings in the dark even with the landscape lighting highlighting each structure. Just beyond the estate, I saw the reflection of the full moon shimmering off the water surface of the sound.

  Now here I am waking up in enormous bed sitting in a room that’s easily the size of the entire first floor of my brownstone. The floor-to-ceiling curtains darken the room, but I can see daylight filtering through the cracks. I’ve been awake for quite some time, but when I saw Lucas in the corner chair facing the bed deep in thought while fumbling with a deck of cards, I’d decided I could fake sleep a little longer to avoid dealing with the hell of my current life. Unfortunately, I think I’ve put it off as long as I can, and the chances of Lucas getting tired of waiting and moving on to another place are slim at this point.

  I have no idea what’s going on, and I don’t know why we’re even here . . . wherever here actually is. But more than that, I don’t know what’s happening with Lucas and me. Why is he so invested in protecting me? I really just don’t get it, but I want to understand.

  Lucas was Matteo’s older brother, but they couldn’t be more different. Where Matteo was funny, personable, and everyone’s friend, Lucas is serious, unapproachable, and doesn’t trust anyone. So how does someone with Lucas’s personality traits make me feel so many things at once?

  I wanted to believe the m
ove to Boston would prove that I didn’t need anyone. I wanted to be on my own for once. For a moment, I had something to prove to myself and everyone else, but now, I know that the moment Lucas loses interest in whatever it is we have, I’ll miss him. I’ll question what I could’ve done differently, but this was never what I wanted. Needing someone in my life again is an un-survivable risk.

  So quickly after arriving in my new world with a plan, it was all swept away, and I’ve gotten so wrapped up in it, I think I’ve failed. I know I have. I’m fairly certain I do actually need him.

  I open my eyes, watching him. He looks troubled, and it makes me sad that I’m most likely the cause.

  “Lucas,” I whisper. “What are we doing?”

  He stacks the cards neatly, sliding one in his pocket as he stands. He moves toward my side of the bed with determination in his expression. Kneeling on the floor next to the bed, he searches my face, reaching for my thoughts. Lying on my side with my head resting on the pillow, Lucas brushes the backs of his fingers along my cheek.

  “Good morning, principessa. Did you sleep well?” he asks intentionally not answering the question I’d asked first.

  “Lucas, what . . . are we . . . doing? I need to know. For a minute, can we please stop with the game? Because nothing is making sense, and I can’t pretend I don’t care right now.”

  “Elianna. There’s a lot that we will discuss what’s happening, but I’m not sure I know enough to give you concrete information. For now, you’re safe, and that’s all that really matters to me, principessa,” he says with a timid smile.

  Clearly, we’re not on the same page if he thinks I was talking about the incident, and I can understand how he’d confuse the two. “Bestia, I don’t mean the troubles. I mean us . . . what are we doing? What’s happening between the two of us? I’m causing you problems, yet you’re still here watching over me. Why, Lucas?”