Liar's Lullaby: A Dark Mafia Romance (Mazzeo Mafia Book 1)

by Nicole Fox

  “I didn’t anything to fall back on,” Charlotte continues. “I came from nothing, and as soon as I was old enough to work, I did. College was never an option for me. I couldn’t even finish high school because I had to drop out to take care of my mother.”

  I’m torn between annoyance at my family for their blatant nosiness, and interest in all the personal details that Charlotte is spilling.

  We’ve never touched on any of this before.

  “Was your mother sick?” Dante asks politely.

  “Sure, you could say that,” Charlotte says with a shrug. “It was more a sickness of the head, though. She was an addict.”

  “Alcohol or drugs?” Angela asks—less politely.

  “Everything she could get her hands on,” she says, continuing to surprise me with how forthcoming she’s being. “But mostly, her addiction was for bad men.”

  A few of my cousins laugh at that one.

  Not me.

  I can see how deeply her mother’s choices have affected her.

  It’s in her eyes. That faraway look of long-forgotten pain that she’s trying desperately to hide.

  “And your father?” someone else asks.

  I’m not even concentrating on my rude fucking family anymore. My eyes are trained fully on Charlotte.

  She’s in the thick of it, surrounded by strangers, answering personal questions about her past.

  And she takes it all in stride.

  “Never met him,” Charlotte says with a shrug. “I don’t think he ever even knew I was on the way.”

  “How tragic,” Elenora sighs. “Darling, if anyone can use a drink, it’s you. But if you’re uncomfortable with it, how about some fresh orange juice instead?”

  Charlotte smiles gratefully and nods. “That would be lovely. Thank you.”

  The tension recedes a notch.

  And just then, the French doors swing open.

  “What have we missed?” Nicola asks, stepping back into the living room with Evie.

  The little one looks visibly more relaxed now. She’s got some dirt smudged on her knees and one of her braids has started to come loose. But the brightness of her smile more than makes up for it.

  “Let’s sit down for dinner,” I say quickly before the conversation can pick up again.

  “Where’s your mother?” Pia asks, looking around.

  It’s only then that it hits me that she still hasn’t re-joined the group. Frustration courses through me.

  “She’ll join us when she’s ready.”

  Noticing the look on my face, Pia wisely keeps her mouth shut.

  Everyone filters into the formal dining room that’s already been set up in preparation for tonight. Nicola makes sure to place Evie and Charlotte beside her as the appetizers are passed around.

  The staff comes in to pour drinks and serve the first salad course. The conversation turns to other topics.

  Little by little, the furor of the night’s beginning slips away, and I start to relax ever-so-slightly.

  Until, halfway through the fish course, Evie starts coughing.

  Charlotte turns to her with alarm. “Evie?”

  I watch from across the table as Evie’s cough persists.

  The sound drops out and the color on her face begins to darken.

  She’s not coughing.

  She’s choking.

  I feel a sharp jolt of pain in my chest—not quite panic and not quite fear, but something in the middle of those two.

  Immediately, I jump into action.

  I cross the room in seconds, and grab Evie around the waist. I support her chest with one hand and then I lean her forward.

  With the heel of my hand, I administer a few sharp blows between her shoulder blades.

  The tiny fish bone lodged in her throat comes flying out on the third blow.

  She goes limp in my arms and I scoop her up, making sure to cradle her head in my arm.

  “Evie, Evie, mio tesoro,” I whisper urgently, searching her face.

  The bluish tinge has disappeared, but she looks pale. And she’s shivering.

  Charlotte appears at my right shoulder, her eyes panicked.

  “Evie, are you okay, kiddo?”

  I catch a whiff of Charlotte’s dark hair as she leans in. Honey and coconut. She’s completely unaware that her breast is pressed up against my arm.

  “Charlotte…” Evie says her name weakly, but she’s still clinging to me.

  “It’s okay, Evie,” I tell her. “You’re fine now.”

  She looks at me with those big gray eyes. “Thank you, Papa.”

  My chest seizes up tight.

  “Come on,” I say in an edgy voice. “Let’s take you out for some fresh air.”

  Then I push past everyone, ignoring their eyes, and I carry my daughter out into the garden.

  22

  Charlotte

  I follow Lucio and Evie into the garden. I’m aware that all the Mazzeos are watching, but I need to make sure she’s okay.

  Lucio hasn’t taken her far. He’s standing by the purple flower beds that encircle the fountain. Evie is still in his arms. She won’t let go.

  I stop a few feet away, taken aback by how beautiful the two of them look together. It’s the most heartwarming thing I’ve seen in a long time.

  And even though I followed them out here, I don’t want to interrupt their moment.

  Then Lucio turns to me. His dusky gray eyes find mine.

  “Charlotte,” Evie croaks, perking up a little. “I’m okay.”

  I smile. “I can see that.”

  “Do you think you can stand on your own now?” Lucio asks her.

  She nods, and he sets her back down on her feet. We both watch as she gains her footing, ready to intervene if she looks like she’s too wobbly.

  But she’s fine. And immediately, she reaches for her daddy’s hand.

  Not because she has to.

  Because she wants to.

  “You scared me, princess,” I tell her.

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize,” I scold playfully. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

  Evie’s stomach rumbles and we both giggle. “Are you hungry?”

  “Mhmm,” she confirms.

  “Well, how about this time you eat slow and chew your food properly?”

  She smiles impishly at me. “Okay.”

  Then she sprints off towards the house. I have a feeling she’s looking for Nicola.

  I turn to Lucio, but he’s busy staring at Evie’s receding shape in the twilight.

  “That was amazing,” I tell him.

  For the first time, there’s nothing grudging about the compliment. I really mean it. He saved my—

  Well, she’s his little girl.

  Even if she feels like mine sometimes.

  “We should get back to the house,” he says gruffly. His expression is closed-off, almost sullen.

  “Wait,” I say. “Lucio, are you alright?”

  He glances at me. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “She is your daughter,” I point out. “You must have been scared.”

  His eyes turn hard and flinty. As though the mere mention of vulnerability on his part pisses him off.

  “I wasn’t.”

  Normally, I’d let that go. How many times in the last few weeks have I let similar macho-man moments pass by without comment?

  Too many to count.

  But the terror of seeing Evie’s face turn blue has chipped away at my normal restraint—however minimal that may’ve been to begin with.

  “Why do you think it makes you weak to admit that?” I demand. I’m just fed up and frustrated with pig-headed alpha male attitude.

  “This conversation is over.”

  He starts to walk past me, but I keep talking anyway.

  “You can’t lie to me,” I say to his back. “I saw your face. You were scared. And honestly? It’s the first time I’ve actually liked you.”

  He stills for a secon
d. I can see how tense his muscles are.

  A long pause.

  What will he say? Will he speak at all?

  Then he keeps walking without so much as a word or a glance back towards me.

  I want so badly to scream at him as he slips back into the house. To tell him he’s weak for trying to be so tough all the time. To tell him I see right through his big, bad façade.

  But I don’t.

  I swallow those words down, even though they taste like poison.

  I stay in the garden for a few more minutes. Once I’ve beaten back the anger and frustration, I make my way back to the dining room.

  The moment I walk in, Dante is in my face.

  “Hello there, beautiful,” he purrs. “Another couple of minutes and I would have come looking for you.”

  I smile politely. “Looks like I’ve saved you the effort.”

  “I was actually looking forward to the effort, especially if it meant catching you alone somewhere a little… quieter.”

  I can feel a burn on the side of my cheek and I know that Lucio is watching me. Watching this.

  I turn my face pointedly and focus on Dante. “Unfortunately, I’m on the clock tonight.”

  “Drat. What about after the rugrat is asleep?”

  “I’ve got a curfew.”

  His eyebrows rise in consternation. “A curfew? My cousin is a monster.”

  “You won’t hear me disagreeing with that.”

  He laughs. “Well, then, we’ll just have to be content being dinner buddies.” He’s as affable as ever. Not my type at all, but I won’t say no to a friendly face amongst this sea of calculating sharks.

  Dante loops my hand through his elbow and leads me to the table. On the way to our seats, I notice a new presence at the table.

  An older woman who’s sitting on Lucio’s righthand side.

  “That’s the nanny,” Pia says to the woman, pointing me out. Her eyes alight on me momentarily, but they’re gone just as quick.

  Not quick enough that I don’t catch the resemblance, though.

  That jagged chin.

  That haughty purse of the lips.

  I’ll bet a billion dollars that’s Lucio’s mother.

  She’s wearing a white silk blouse that’s undoubtedly expensive as hell. A statement necklace made of huge turquoise stones hangs off her neck.

  Her hair is dark like Lucio’s and she’s styled it into an elegant chignon at the back of her head. Her features are too sharp, too pointed to be considered beautiful.

  There’s a certain elegance about her, though. Like royalty is in her DNA.

  But the thing that stands out the most is her detachment.

  She’s sitting in the middle of a crowded dining room, surrounded by family and friends. Yet she has the desolate expression of someone who’s completely and utterly alone.

  It’s unsettling.

  I stop staring at her only when I catch Lucio staring at me.

  That one is easier to ignore.

  I drop my eyes and avoid him for the rest of the night.

  It’s with relief that I urge Evie to say goodbye to everyone when dinner finally wraps up. Although the experience hasn’t been entirely unpleasant.

  Despite how nosy his aunts are, I actually really like a few of his cousins.

  The food was amazing, and Evie has enjoyed herself, too.

  But Lucio’s hard gaze is unceasing, even though I’m looking everywhere but back at him. I’m more than ready to get out from under his eyes.

  “You’re leaving already?” Dante complains, materializing at my shoulder. “Say it ain’t so!”

  “Dante,” Nicola scolds as he joins us, “you’ve been hounding the poor woman all night. Leave her alone.”

  Dante rolls his eyes and turns a playfully cold shoulder to Nicola. “See?” he says dramatically. “This is the kind of interruption we can avoid if you just agree to go out with me.”

  I give him a grin. “I’m taking a break from men for the moment,” I tell him. “But when I’m done, you’ll be the first to know.”

  “Don’t build me up just to break me down, buttercup,” he teases with a wink.

  “Charlotte!”

  I flinch as Lucio’s voice cuts through the chatter of the crowd.

  “Evie’s tired,” he informs me. “Take her up now.”

  I bristle at the commanding tone, and my jaw juts out in response. “I was,” I snap. “I don’t need you to tell me how to do my job.”

  Before he can retort, I grab Evie’s hand and drag her out of the room.

  I hear a splintering of surprised laughter.

  And then someone—a man—says, “You’ve met your match, Lucio.”

  If he says anything in return, I can’t hear it.

  Getting Evie to bed is easy tonight because she’s so damn tired. Once she’s tucked in with Paulie, I lie down beside her and stroke her hair.

  “Charlotte?”

  “Yes, sweetness?”

  “Where’s your mommy?”

  I go still for a moment, completely blindsided by the question.

  “Uh, she is… She lives far away,” I stammer. “Ever heard of Portland?”

  “No.”

  “Well, she lives there.”

  She wrinkles her eyebrows. “If she lives far away, when do you get to see her?”

  “The truth is that I don’t see her very often.”

  Evie looks at me with obvious shock. “Really?” she asks, lisping just a little. “But don’t you miss her?”

  How do you explain the complexity of toxic, co-dependent mother-daughter relationships to a six-year-old? Particularly one who’s clearly yearning for her own mother?

  Still, I don’t want to lie to her either.

  “It’s complicated, princess,” I say in the end.

  I know damn well it’s a terrible answer. But it’s the best I’ve got.

  She sighs. “Grown-ups always say that when they don’t want to explain things,” she protests, a little too wisely for her own good. “The man who brought me here told me that, too.”

  I do a double-take at that. A nasty feeling brews in the pit of my stomach. “What did he tell you?”

  “He told me to go to the gate and wait,” she says with a shrug.

  “Alone?”

  “Mhmm,” Evie confirms. “When I asked where Mommy was, he just said it again. He wasn’t very nice.”

  I frown and hug her close. She doesn’t seem that upset, but that’s probably because she still doesn’t quite understand the full scope of what happened to her.

  None of us do, really.

  And to be honest, the more time I spend around Lucio… the more I’m scared to ask.

  “I’m sorry, kiddo,” I say. “I wish I could give you a better answer.”

  “I wish Mommy was here,” she whimpers.

  My heart shivers a little bit.

  I remember being her age. I remember longing for my mother even though she was shitty at parenting.

  To a six-year-old, that doesn’t really matter though.

  You just want your mom.

  Shitty or not.

  Toxic or not.

  I try to think of something comforting to say, but by the time I’ve made any progress on that front, I look down and realize that Evie has fallen asleep already.

  Dodged that bullet…

  For now.

  I shimmy my hand out from around her delicately and get off the bed.

  When I reach my own room and pull the connecting door shut, I pause for a moment. The other door, the one that leads to the hallway, looms in the near-darkness.

  I know it’s not locked tonight because Enzo is off until tomorrow and no one followed Evie and me up here earlier.

  Clearly, Lucio is slipping.

  It sure as hell isn’t like he’s starting to trust me more. He made that point very clear.

  With a deep breath, I slink out of my room. The tentative plan is to go back down and find Lucio and— />
  Well, I’ll figure out the rest when I get there.

  But when I emerge onto the landing at the top of the stairs, I notice the house is quiet. Which means the guests have gone.

  So I change direction and head straight for Lucio’s office.

  I don’t even knock when I reach his door. I just barge right in.

  He’s standing by his desk with a few papers in his hands. He puts them down slowly when he sees me.

  His expression is guarded. Neutral. Just the tiniest glimmer of curiosity in his silver eyes.

  “Is this what I get for easing security and keeping your room door unlocked?” he sighs.

  Okay, so it wasn’t an oversight.

  Whatever.

  I walk right up to him and jab a finger in his face. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I spit.

  He raises his eyebrows, completely unruffled by my anger. “Excuse me?”

  “You still haven’t told Evie where her mother is. So I repeat: what the hell is wrong with you?”

  He frowns. “Tell me something, Charlotte: how the fuck is this any of your business?”

  “I’m making it my business,” I snap. “That little girl needs someone in her corner and I’m prepared to be that person. You may scare a lot of people, Lucio Mazzeo. But you don’t scare me.”

  “And I thought you were a smart girl.”

  “Fuck you.”

  My hand flies out, aiming to slap him right in his smug goddamn face.

  But he’s faster than I am.

  He grabs my hand before it can make contact, and then uses the momentum to whip me around so that I’m trapped between him and his desk.

  Somehow, he’s managed to get between my legs from behind.

  And given the dress I’m wearing, I can feel his hardness wedged up against my heat.

  “Scared of me yet?” he growls in my ear. He’s pressed against me, his front to my back, and his heat, his heartbeat, his scent—all of it is invading my senses in a way that I’m finding really fucking difficult to resist.

  I cringe away from him, though I don’t actually have anywhere to go.

  “You need to deal with this,” I grit, ignoring his actual question.

  “‘Deal with it’?” he repeats mockingly. “I have an actual fucking problem on my hands. I have to fight back the entire Polish mafia from encroaching onto my territory. I don’t have time for anything else. Certainly not for your moralizing bullshit.”