Privilege (Renzo + Lucia Book 1)

by Bethany-Kris

  Lucian stiffened on the stop. “Excuse me?”

  “It sucks when someone you love does things to purposely hurt you. In this case, I said something I knew would hurt you. In your case, you keep trying to take away someone I—”

  “We’re not discussing that young man here. That is not why I had you brought here, Lucia.”

  She nodded, glanced to the windows at the side of the room, and let out a bitter laugh. “So, you’re saying you purposely dragged me away from Renzo today just because I went with him this morning, and you don’t approve, but I can’t ask you why you did that or bring it up. That’s really what you’re telling me right now?”

  “We can talk about it later.”

  “I’d rather talk now, Daddy.”

  “Fine.”

  Her father’s sharp word had her glancing back at him fast. His clenching jaw, and blazing eyes told her that he was no longer playing around. Lucian wasn’t fucking happy, and he was about to let her know it. She recognized that look.

  Good.

  Get it out, and get it over with.

  She had no doubt that whatever her father planned to say was the exact same thing he’d been saying for weeks now. Renzo was no good for her. He was involved in things that she shouldn’t be mixed up in. He might hurt her. He’s dangerous. All things that mattered very little to Lucia at the end of the day because of just how hypocritical it sounded coming from this man in front of her.

  The gall of a mafioso to lecture someone on the dangers of someone else in her life. Like her own father hadn’t spent months in jail when she was a girl. Like he didn’t carry a fucking gun around every day. Like their house wasn’t paid for with dirty fucking Marcello money!

  But her father surprised her.

  Those were not the things he talked about at all.

  “Fine, Lucia, you want to talk, then let’s talk,” her father said, folding his arms over his chest. “Let’s talk about the last time you saw your sister … or how many calls and texts you’ve ignored from your brother. How about the last time you sat down at a table with your mother? Oh, me, I get … I understand entirely why you wouldn’t want to sit down with me, but her? While we’re talking, let’s not forget to mention how last week, I had to send out your final paperwork for you to get started with the second semester at college in California like you wanted to. Or did you forget about that, too?”

  Her father had progressively inched closer to her until he was just three feet away. All the while, Lucia never once moved or looked away from him. She couldn’t because if she did, he would think he won. He wasn’t winning.

  “Or how about the shelter,” Lucian added, widening his arms a bit and giving her a look. “You were so determined to work there during the month of August that you put off the first semester of college just so you could do it. For one single month. But what did you turn around and do, Lucia? What?”

  She refused to answer him.

  What would be the damn point?

  “You fucking quit,” Lucian said darkly. “You quit for—”

  “Because of what you did, not for him. If you’re going to throw shit at me,” Lucia told her father, “at least throw the right shit.”

  Lucian’s jaw clenched again, and he dragged in a heavy breath. The same thing she did whenever she was overwhelmed, and needed a second to recoup. It wasn’t lost on her how similar she was to her father at the end of the day. And maybe that was a huge part of the problem. She was so like her father that this moment right here was always bound to happen at one point or another.

  “My driven, intelligent, independent, and good daughter went from having goals, and wants, and knowing exactly what she had planned for her life to ….” Lucian gestured with his hand. Not directly at her, but rather, at the room. As if he were silently saying, all of this, Lucia, you turned into all of this. “You cared about your family, about school, and you had some sense of responsibility. But now? Now, you’re defiant, combative, and you don’t even know what you’re doing anymore. You don’t want me to blame Renzo Zulla for the person staring back at me right now, but you’ve not given me a reason not to blame him, either.”

  Lucia blinked.

  Unfeeling, and numb.

  That was the thing about all of this. She felt nothing because the man across from her still thought he had no part in her behavior. He just assumed she was like she was because of Renzo, and not in reaction to the shit he was doing to her because of Renzo.

  Not the same.

  “You don’t get it,” she told her father, shaking her head. “You don’t understand at—”

  “Understand what?” her father snapped. “That during the span of a month, you’ve gone from having aspirations and goals to chasing some fucking boy all over the city? Tell me I am wrong. Tell me you’ve given college one ounce of your time and thoughts since you started seeing him. Tell me you’ve made an effort to go see your pregnant sister since meeting him. Go ahead, and tell me that since your brother got out of prison, you’ve tried to spend time with him. Or your mother, the rest of your family … me. Apparently, I have all the time in the world today for your bullshit, Lucia, so please go ahead and tell me.”

  Lucian shrugged, adding with a wave, “I will wait, go ahead.”

  Lucia stayed quiet again.

  Why?

  Because her father wasn’t entirely wrong. She hadn’t given college much thought over the past month. She hadn’t filled out those final papers, because apparently, he had. She hadn’t started prepping to find a place in California like she was supposed to. Her time with her family dwindled down to nothing at all. And yes, a large part of it was because she had been entirely distracted with Renzo, but that wasn’t his fault.

  That was hers.

  Not that she expected her father to understand.

  Lucian sighed, and shook his head. “Here’s the thing, Lucia. I need you to get back to where you were before. Before this month, and that … man. I need you to put some effort back into your goals, and being who you are, not just an extension of someone else. And I will continue to make sure you do exactly that. Starting today, your phone is gone, along with anything else that isn’t needed. You will go home today, and begin the process of readying for California, and starting the second semester of college. Things you wanted to do before—”

  “It’s not going to make a difference, you know,” she murmured, keeping her calm tone although she didn’t know how, really. “You can treat me like a child, punish me like one, too, but it still won’t make a difference. I have access to my own money. I am eighteen. And if I want to see Renzo, then I will. You can tell me to do whatever you want to tell me to do, but I am still going to love him whether you like it or not, Daddy.”

  Her piece said—because she really didn’t have anything else to say—Lucia turned around, and headed for the exit of the private dining area. At her back, her father called, “I could ruin him, Lucia. Permanently remove the problem, if need be. It would take one phone call. Five seconds of my time, and three fucking words to do it. But I haven’t for you. Do you understand that?”

  She didn’t answer her father.

  She had nothing left to say.

  “Lucia!”

  “Lucian,” she heard her uncle, Dante, say, “just let her go. Better for her to go and take a moment, than for you two to keep shouting at one another like this. That’s not what you want to do.”

  “You don’t fucking know what I—”

  “I know exactly what you want to do, brother. I know very well. And it will not help, Lucian. It won’t.”

  At the door, the enforcer from earlier stepped in her path. “I will take you home, Miss.”

  Lucia gave the man a look. “Oh?”

  “And I will be escorting you wherever you need to go for the unforeseeable future, or until your father tells me otherwise.”

  “That so?”

  “Yes.”

  Lucia nodded. “Well, fuck you, too, then.”

&
nbsp; “Lucia!”

  That time, it was her mother.

  The first time Jordyn even spoke.

  Lucia still didn’t turn around.

  EIGHTEEN

  Renzo stuffed his hands in his pockets, and ignored the buzzing of his phone. Like he didn’t have enough problems to handle at the moment, he wasn’t about to go and add more to the pile by picking up that fucking phone. He already knew what the calls would be about if he did pick it up, anyway.

  Perry, Noah, and Diesel.

  One, or all of them.

  He didn’t know what to tell his guys—his supply was gone. He couldn’t get any more drugs for them to sell. He hadn’t been able to make a proper connection to do a handoff in a week. He seriously suspected Lucian cut him off like he said he would, but he also didn’t have any definitive proof that was the case. He just couldn’t get anyone on the phone who supplied him. But there also wasn’t any reason for Renzo to think Lucian hadn’t followed through on his threats, either.

  Well played, Marcello.

  If only because now Renzo’s guys were pissed. They had shit easy when it came to him. They never had to worry much about handling things like where their supply was coming from, or taking care of the cash. He always did that. From getting their shit, delivering it, to taking their money and making sure everybody got their fair and equal cut.

  He did it all.

  Now, they were scrambling.

  Panicking.

  Renzo had other shit to worry about. For once, they could take care of themselves. Stretch money for a week, or go out and find another crew to get their shit from to take to the streets. If, or when, Renzo got around to finding himself a new supplier, then he’d reach out to his guys and see if they needed or wanted to work with him again. If not, then fine. They were a dime a dozen.

  That was the thing about these streets.

  People willing to hustle were everywhere.

  Whatever made money.

  Just as soon as the phone started buzzing in his pocket again, Renzo let out a heavy sigh, and silenced the phone. Not that it mattered. No doubt, he was going to have a good fifty missed calls and texts by the time he got around to checking them. Not that a single one of them would be from the person he wanted to hear from the most.

  Lucia.

  Something painful slithered around his heart, and tightened to a painful point at the thought. Like a fist grabbing the organ tight, and refusing to let go.

  A week.

  One entire week.

  No calls.

  No texts.

  Nothing.

  It was like she dropped off the fucking radar. Every call he tried to make went to her voice mail. And then, her damn voice mail was full, too, so he couldn’t leave anything there. All of his texts were going unanswered.

  He didn’t think that was purposeful on her part. He figured it was because someone wasn’t giving her the option to get ahold of him at all. Someone like her father.

  Renzo tried to play it cool. He tried to wait it out, and see what would happen. Maybe his girl would figure something out, and get a call through to him, or make her way over to his side of the city.

  Something.

  All he got was nothing.

  And now he was just pissed.

  But worried, too.

  When one day turned into two, and then two turned into three … without even a word from Lucia. That fucking terrified him for more reasons than he cared to think about. His whole life had been spent taking care of his siblings, and looking out for himself. Then, there walked in Lucia like she had always belonged in his life as she made herself at home there. He couldn’t get her out if he fucking tried—not that he wanted to. Now, he had Lucia added onto that pile of things he needed to think about and consider, too.

  Her father might have made a promise to do whatever he had to in order to keep Lucia away from Renzo, but that was the thing. Renzo made a promise, too. Not to Lucian, but to the only person who really needed to hear it from Renzo. He promised Lucia that nobody was going to take her away from him, and he fucking meant it.

  Not her father.

  Not anyone else.

  Nobody.

  She was his, and that’s all there was to it.

  End of.

  It probably didn’t help his mood that Diego kept asking about Lucia, but Renzo didn’t have any answers. But he was about to fucking get some, one way or another.

  That was his goal today.

  Answers.

  The thing about Renzo that people didn’t understand was that just because he was quiet didn’t mean he was fucking stupid. He was quiet because silence served him a hell of a lot better in the grand scheme of things. He was quiet because he knew that way, he would hear a lot more if he wasn’t also talking.

  Since he started working on the streets, and running errands for people connected to the Marcellos, he’d been listening. He knew names, places, and exactly where he could get information when he needed to. Or rather, he knew exactly who to go to in order to get what he needed or wanted.

  It was a dangerous game to play, sure. Asking anything about the Marcellos, especially when it came to something personal like their family members or their daily business, only brought trouble for the person wanting information. A quick, usually violent, message would be sent to make sure the person knew to mind their own fucking business.

  Renzo was willing to take that risk.

  He had to.

  Taking a left at the end of the block, Renzo came up on a familiar pizzeria that he’d visited on a few occasions. Well, truthfully, he’d met people in the back to do an exchange, or whatever the case may be. But he’d heard enough to know the place was owned by a close friend of a Marcello Capo. The guy let the family use the back rooms as a storage, when needed, and have their meetings if something else couldn’t be worked out.

  Bill was his name.

  And because of his connections to the Marcello family, even if it was just through affiliation, Renzo assumed the guy either had information about the family, or he knew a way to get it. Which was exactly what Renzo needed today. Plus, if the guy had connections, he knew how this life worked. He likely wouldn’t be willing to call the cops if Renzo made a bit of a scene to get what he wanted.

  Or if he made some threats …

  Inside the pizza joint, Renzo found the place wasn’t very busy. He expected that given it was only a little past ten in the morning. Most people weren’t all that interested in pizza in the morning, anyway. Soon, he expected the business would fill with the afternoon rush, but for now, this emptiness worked in his favor which was exactly why he chose to show up at this time. He dropped Diego off with a lady from the first floor of their apartment building who he knew needed some extra cash as she’d lost her job when her employer found out she was expecting her first child, and headed out before he’d even eaten breakfast.

  Bypassing the tables, and the one server who was filling a guy’s glass with water, Renzo headed for the kitchen area. No one even noticed him slipping into the back. He knew where to go to find the owner of the place, and it wasn’t at the front. Whenever he visited the pizzeria, the owner was either in the back chatting with people, or shouting orders in the kitchen.

  “Hey, you can’t be in here!”

  “Who the hell are you?”

  Renzo ignored the two cooks wiping down the metal surfaces, and picked up his pace when one of them looked like they were going to come around the counter at him. They could fucking try it, and see how well it worked out for them.

  By all means …

  Siding his hand into the back of his jacket, Renzo palmed the butt of his gun as he entered the back hallway from the kitchen. He already had the gun out, and racked back when he found the owner of the joint sitting behind his desk in a cramped office. The place looked like a goddamn hurricane had blown through it what with the paperwork that was strewn everywhere. Renzo put his attention where it counted—on the man behind the desk.
>
  “Bill, right?” Renzo asked.

  The older, balding man with a middle far too round to be healthy glanced up from the phone in his hand. His eyes widened when they fell on the gun that was pointed directly at his face. Renzo had stared down the barrel of a gun more than once, and it was not a fun experience.

  “R-Renzo?”

  Renzo smiled a little. “Didn’t think you would even remember my name given the handful of times I’ve been around this place, but hey, it’s good that you know. I don’t mind my name being passed around when you get it right. I need information, and you’re the guy who can help me to get it.”

  Bill blinked, and his gaze drifted from the gun to Renzo. His hand twitched, and inched slightly to the right. Renzo didn’t miss it, or what it might mean.

  “Know that if you pull a weapon on me, I will paint your fucking office with your brain matter.” Renzo nodded at the picture on the desk that had been turned to face the doorway. It showcased an older woman with blonde hair, and a young man sitting next to her on a bench. “That your wife and son?”

  He didn’t know.

  He was just guessing.

  Given the way Bill’s hands dropped to the top of the desk, fully in view, Renzo assumed he had hit the nail right on the head with whoever that was in the pictures.

  “What do you want?” Bill demanded.

  “I told you—information.”

  “About what?”

  “Not what, who. The Marcellos. More specifically, Lucian Marcello, or better yet, his daughter, Lucia. I need you to get me information. Where they are, or what they’re doing. I need you to find all that shit out, and get it back to me. Preferably without you running off at the mouth about what you’re doing for me. Because if you do, I keep this gun loaded, and ready. Do you get me?”

  The man just blinked.

  Like a fucking idiot.

  “Do you have a death wish?” Bill asked. “You don’t go around asking about the Marcello family, Renzo. You certainly don’t go around asking about one of the three brothers, or one of their daughters. Not if you don’t want them asking why you’re asking.”

  Renzo smiled again in that cold way of his. “Well, that’s the thing, isn’t it, Bill? By all appearances, it won’t be me asking anything about Lucian, or his daughter. It’ll be you. They’ll want to know why you are asking, and they’ll come here for that information. By then, I’ll already either have what I want, or be long fucking gone. So, I guess you’re left with a couple of options, aren’t you?”