Forbidden Bastard

by Felicia Lynn

  After we returned from dinner, Lucas and Tony retreated to the library for a closed-door meeting. It was a little uncomfortable, and for the first time since I’d arrived, I felt like an unwanted guest. Lucas never tried to come back to the room last night. I’m not sure why I was surprised after the things we’d said and the way we treated each other, but I’d be lying if I said I’m not disappointed, though.

  For a short time, this thing with Lucas really mattered to me, and I let down my guard for him. I opened myself up to possibilities that were never actually possible. I can’t have the man without the life, but convincing my heart that Lucas isn’t everything I want and exactly what I need is proving to be my biggest challenge. It’s not fair, though. Any relationship that would require either of us to give up who we are can never withstand the tests of time, and some things are non-negotiable for us both.

  Now, all I can do is breathe and know that like every other unfortunate situation I’ve endured, I’ll get through it. What other choice do I have? I just need to find a way to keep living. There’s no way I can take a step backward to the colorless existence I called a life for the past three months.

  In an effort to put my best foot forward and keep my slate fresh, I bite the bullet and call Aunt Luci before I head upstairs to pack my things. I do feel bad for making her worry, and since I know she’s an early riser and I’ll probably catch her during her morning coffee routine, I expect this not to be quick.

  I’m dressed and packed with all of my and Gatsby’s belongings ready by the door. It was probably a good thing I didn’t talk to my aunt while she was in panic mode because all she wanted to discuss today was the romantic rendezvous. I tried to downplay it and explain that Lucas and I were just friends, but she wasn’t buying it any more than I was. In the end, she told me I could keep my secrets close for now, but reminded me that she was there when I was ready to discuss it. I’m not sure that day will ever come for her, but it’s nice that she cares.

  Lucas hasn’t come down yet even though it’s almost ten thirty, but he’s a night owl, so I never really expected to leave before noon, especially since I’m not sure when he went to bed. Gatsby and I are sitting on the chaise lounger on the back deck enjoying the sunshine. I have a cup of tea and a book loaded on my iPad that I’ve yet to flip off of the title page. I guess when my own life closely resembles what could be its own fictional story, it’s hard to get outside my own head.

  The back door opens, startling me and exciting Gatsby as Tony comes out carrying a cup of steaming hot coffee. “Good Morning, cara mia. Did you sleep well?” he asks, looking showered, clean shaven, and well dressed. I’m not sure what it is about made-men, but it’s rare to see them without a collared shirt or button-down. Tony, of course, is dressed in designer clothing that’s been freshly dry-cleaned with extra starch. I’d expect nothing less from a man in his position, but it must be a hard life never having the opportunity to wear sweats outside the house. I’m not sure I’d survive if I had to put real clothes on every day.

  “Tony, what a nice surprise. I wasn’t expecting to see you before I left. Good morning to you as well, and I slept great, thanks. How about you?” I ask. Even though I definitely don’t approve of this life and all it entails, I’m finding it hard not to really like Tony. I think maybe it’s because he reminds me of my father in some ways. He’s not arrogant and domineering the way my uncle is, and I don’t recall my father being that way either. It always seemed like he was just one of the guys even though technically they worked for him.

  My father didn’t treat anyone in the family like they were less important. I don’t know Tony Ruffinelli enough to be sure, but I don’t think he would either. Well, except for Vinny, but that guy had it coming, and they can’t be too heartless if they had the doctor check him out. Plus, since they let him stay and didn’t kill him by the end of that night when he wanted to stay to show his loyalty and make amends, I doubt they’ll kill him at this point. He seemed to be back into the fold pretty quickly that evening even with his broken nose and busted lip, though I think they were still pissed at him.

  “I slept like a baby. It’s peaceful here, and unfortunately, I often forget how much I enjoy being here and have to force myself to relax. I suppose I could be somewhat of a workaholic.” He laughs, and I smile back at him. Yeah, I’m pretty confident he’s a good guy deep down.

  “I remember my dad being a workaholic too, but even if he wasn’t working, he always seemed to busy himself. I remember one Sunday, not too long before he passed, he came in and kissed us all goodbye, saying he had to go to work, but he didn’t usually work on Sundays. That was our family day. Plus, he wasn’t dressed nicely like normal. I’ll never forget. He was wearing old jeans and a polo shirt that had seen better days too. I was still young, so it was before I knew not to question the things he’d tell us. So I asked him why he was dressed badly, in a very typical six-year-old manner. My dad was very patient with me even when I was out of line.” I pause, silently remembering how the other kids in the neighborhood used to speak of punishments and spankings, neither of which I’d ever had. When I was young, I attributed that to me being a good kid, but really, I just had exceptional parents who taught me to do right by speaking to me in ways I could relate. “That day, my dad took a few extra minutes to sit down with me and explain that sometimes work is helping people who need a hand and not just making money. Mrs. Fiore, the woman who owned the corner bakery where we bought our bread, was newly widowed at eighty-two, living in the apartment above her store. A pipe burst, causing a lot of damage. She was without insurance coverage to make the repairs, but the money didn’t matter to my father and his men. They only cared that Mrs. Fiore was taken care of. I know now Mrs. Fiore would’ve lost not only her home but possibly her bakery too if the family hadn’t stepped in and all that after recently losing her husband. I can’t imagine. My dad probably could have contractors to come in and make the repairs, but he was a doer, not just a director. I can’t tell you how often I’ve thought of that day over the years,” I finish, feeling affected by the memory. I don’t really have many people I can talk to about my parents, so it’s not often I tell the stories I can remember.

  “Cara mia, your father was a very good man. You’re probably right; your dad could have paid contractors to do that work. More than likely, he had contractors on staff who could’ve done it for the cost of supplies, but what would his men have learned from that. Back in that time, our families believed in lifting up the communities where we lived. You know, neighbors helping neighbors. Did you know that your dad was the one to start that? When the other families would get word on what was going on in the Nicchi family, most of the time they’d laugh and think your father was cheap, but after a while, when they saw how much support the Nicchi family received from their neighbors, the naysayers stopped laughing and started doing the same in their communities.” He pauses for a second, likely recalling the times. I wait patiently, hoping he continues, and am excited when he does.

  “The Nicchi fathers had a golden rule while serving as heads of the family. Don’t ask your men to do anything you wouldn’t do yourself. A lot of men say they share that same value, but saying it and living it have different outcomes, and I only know of one man who lived that golden rule with pride. The Nicchi family earned great respect and had honor. That, cara mia, is where the power was. It wasn’t about control, greed, or fear, in spite of what others may believe. I saw it firsthand, so I know the truth. The Nicchi family didn’t need control or to instill fear in their territory because they earned the trust and respect of the people. A man can’t take what’s freely given. I was very lucky to have your father as long as I did, and it was a sad day for all, myself included, when he died. You have good reason to stand tall with the Nicchi name. Your father may very well have been the pride of us all. If you ever wonder why the Ruffinelli family would risk their own to protect the mafia princess, remember this story, cara mia. Your father may not be physically he
re with you now, but he’s here in the spirit of others. A considerable number of men would give their lives to repay your father with the honor of safeguarding his beautiful girl, just as he’d have done for many others. You are our tresoro, Elianna.” I listen in interested amazement, hearing stories of my father that I’ve never been privy to knowing but understanding the way my father led the family is the most precious gift I could’ve asked for.

  The tenderness in Tony’s expression astounds me, and I’m moved to tears. My precious father was a good man. Oh, how many years I’ve wondered, hoped, and wished. Before I’m able to get a handle on the emotions, I stand from my position on the lounger and move toward Tony. Seeing me approach, he calmly sets his coffee aside and looks at me with a smile. With that, I launch myself at the man who has truly changed my heart for the better. Wrapping my arms tightly around his neck, I squeeze, hugging him tightly as my tears flow.

  “Thank you, Tony. Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this information . . . these stories . . . mean to me. Thank you. Thank you,” I repeat over and over as he pats my back softly, comforting me just as I’d want my own father to do.

  18

  - Time -

  Lucas

  I’ve been dragging my feet all morning thinking that if I stayed behind the closed doors of this room hidden away that maybe she’d change her mind about leaving today. I’ve been racking my brain to come up with a plan to keep her here a little longer, but I’ve been given direct orders to take her home and trust the support of the family. Fucking trust.

  That’s a lot to ask for when the woman that I care about has her life on the line. Defying this direct order isn’t an option. Problem is, I don’t have another one. Her safety means everything to me and there’s nothing I wouldn’t risk to ensure it.

  After dinner my father casually informed me that or men found Lorenzo Bertoni. They spent the entire day trying to get information out of the asshole. At that point the pain he’d endured hadn’t motivated him. That wasn’t acceptable for me, and if we don’t know how deep the roots of this threat extend and who the involved parties are, what exactly are we going to be looking for?

  My father has a suspicion and if he’s right, Elianna doesn’t stand a chance. Sergio Vigo is a dangerous man and I don’t want to wait for him to get desperate because his cover is blown and with his go to off-radar hit man missing we can’t expect that to take long. But what if my father’s suspicion is wrong? It’s possible. So then we’re back at square one, and I refuse to play with odds like that.

  For a little while I thought I’d finally found what I wanted and damn if I didn’t think I could have it all. It was almost perfect, chaos and all. Truth is the only way to define what’s most important to me is by making it my priority and if I want to keep Elianna in my life I’m going to have to fight the evils threatening her life. For days my head has been so fucked up trying to win her heart, that the fact that her life was on the line became secondary. This is her life we’re dealing with.

  I can accept it if she decides I’m not be the man she wants. I’m burying my feeling under sixteen feet of concrete if that’s what it takes. It’s even okay if she doesn’t like me after it’s all said and done. She can say whatever she wants and I’ll take anything she throws at me with a God damned smile. But even if I’m imagining the worst and it’s not how she feels, I’m still fucked.

  If Elianna told me today that we’re meant to be together, it would kill me to do it, but I’d have to discourage it. Being so wrapped up in enjoying all the little things about her consumes me and there’s no avoiding the feelings she stirs in me when I claim her. Pushing her away may very well be the end of us, but I can’t have the starring role of the love interest in her story and expect to see the evil that’s looming. Someone has to be focused enough to fucking save the girl, and this time, it’s going to be me. I’ll risk losing her love before I’ll risk losing her life. Her story will not end like Matteo’s.

  I just have to believe that if Elianna is the girl for me, that we’ll get through all this shit that’s meant to destroy what we can someday hopefully be and maybe we’ll come out stronger on the other side. I want her, complications and all, just not yet. I have to save her first.

  After I take Elianna home and make sure she’s secured, Lorenzo better hope God will have mercy on his soul because I fucking won’t.

  Spending twenty-four hours a day for a week with Eli has taught me a few things and one of them is that her silence is never quiet. I can almost hear her audible cries and it kills me. I’m not sure what’s going on in her head. Maybe it has something to do with the heart to heart with my father this morning, but I worry there’s more to this.

  When I walked downstairs and found two of them chatting and laughing over coffee it gave me a little peace seeing that smile on her, but as I got closer I saw the glaze over her eyes from tears. The possibility that I could be the cause for some of her heartache doesn’t sit well with me. Unfortunately, there isn’t another option with any risks I could live with the consequences for. This will be a small price to pay in the grand scheme, but after all she’s endured already, any price is too steep.

  I just hope I can resolve it quickly before she loses hope in us. When you have a good thing, you’re supposed to hold on to it and as much as I want to hold on tight to her and never fucking let go, I can’t. I won’t ever really let her go, but there’s no way I can do what needs to be done and keep her close either. Maybe one day she’ll understand, even if she hates me for now.

  We’re in the car headed back to Boston and she hasn’t said anything to me since we closed the doors. Nothing, not one single word, but I’m not sure what I expect her to say.

  “Elianna, feel free to change the station if you have a preference,” I offer, trying to break the silence.

  “Thanks,” she whispers, looking out the passenger window hastily. She doesn’t change the station and is still silent. The last thing I want is to cause more pain for her. I’d love to pretend any agony she’s feeling now has nothing to do with me, but I know that would be a lie.

  Not going to her in my bed last night felt wrong to my core. I wanted to apologize for all the shit that went wrong yesterday, but I knew if I did that there would be no turning back.

  “Lucas,” she mutters softly. “Can we talk for a minute?”

  “I’m here, principessa,” I tell her, hoping she’s going to give me some insight into how she’s really doing, if only to relieve some of my own guilt.

  “I just wanted to tell you that I realize I crossed the line yesterday and I’m sorry. I think I overreacted being ambushed by these emotions I’m not accustomed to. Honestly, I’m probably ill-equipped to handle all of this. It’s just been so much to deal with in such a short amount of time and yesterday, it all hit me and I took it out on you. Everything came out wrong and that’s not what I wanted. I don’t know why I kept trying to push you away, other than to admit I’m scared. So I am . . . I’m admitting I’m utterly terrified and when all I really needed yesterday was to be close to you and to let you hold me tight, I panicked. This is new to me and everyone I’ve ever needed in life, I’ve lost. It’s easier to admit I’m scared than it is to admit I need someone else.” She pauses, taking in a deep breath. Fuck me. This situation couldn’t be more wrong. Then she continues. “I feel like everything’s falling apart now and it’s my own fault. I don’t know where I stand with you anymore and I’m not sure an apology is enough at this point. I guess I just need to know where we go from here,” she finishes, sounding insecure and full of guilt.

  I’m not sure why I ever expected that I’d somehow be able to pull this off and letting her carry the burden of guilt and blame isn’t okay. I wish I could lay everything out on the table so that she’d understand better what we’re dealing with. But even if I could, what would that help? My girl is already scared for her life and she doesn’t have the slightest clue how serious this threat could really be. Add to that the
possibility that my brother’s death could be connected, that alone would break her in ways I don’t ever want to imagine.

  If that ends up being true and she has to find out, I hope to God it’s when the threat of everything else affecting her is in the past. I’m not sure I’d be able to live with any outcome after that that didn’t include me at her side in a time like that, for both of our sakes. No one knows the pain that she’ll have to endure more than me and the only way we’re ever going to be able to pick up those pieces is together and that couldn’t be more obvious to me right now. It kills me that she’s admitting she needs me right now, but she’ll need me a lot more when this is all said and done. Unfortunately, that fact doesn’t make it any easier to not fulfill her immediate needs.

  “Yesterday definitely wasn’t one of our better days. I couldn’t agree more, but it’s not your fault, principessa.” I sigh, seeing her fidget with her fingers nervously when I take a quick glance toward her. She’s trying not to seem overeager for a response. I really wish it could be one that I mean. “I’ve been so wrapped up in you the past few months that it’s been easy to forget the rest of the world revolving around you. Even though some moments together have been more challenging than others, I wouldn’t trade those tough times for any peaceful day without you. I wish I could’ve planned for this impact you’ve had on my life – on me. I’ve figured out there isn’t much worse than finding the right person at the wrong time.”

  Eli’s body stiffens and in my peripheral I see her shift her body to angle in the opposite direction toward the passenger door. Her vision is fixed on the window and the scenery outside the bubble of my car. There’s no doubt she’s shut down. I realize even though I led up to that last statement with a lot of the good stuff, she could care less. She’s holding on to those last two words. Wrong time.