by Seth Eden
“No.”
I tugged him toward me, pressing my lips to his. I wasn’t sure what made me do it. Maybe it was our close proximity or the fact that he was the most attractive man I’d ever met. Maybe it was because we’d been through more in a single month than most people experienced in an entire lifetime. Or maybe it was nothing more than a primal, physical need.
But the second I did, Luca responded in kind. His lips were firm yet giving, and the contact caused an avalanche of sensations to flow through me. He took his time kissing me, moving his mouth slowly before opening mine with his tongue. The second he did, I sighed, feeling a yearning for him, a craving, heating up my body from the inside out.
For several minutes, we stayed like that, kissing almost innocently like a couple of virgin teenagers. Luca seemed to be holding back, not taking anything further, even though I knew from the feel of him against me that he wanted more.
I wanted more, too, so I ramped things up a bit by sliding my lips to his neck and suckling the skin there. He groaned deep in his throat, and I removed his suit jacket and began to touch him, stroking along the flawless lines of his chest, massaging his back and shoulders, then tracing the muscles of his strong biceps through his shirt.
This made Luca release the brakes, and his hands flew over me, pulling my sweater over my head to reach my bare skin. I needed him bare, as well, so I unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it off him as fast as I could. From there, things grew more impassioned, and he stood and stripped completely, yanking me to my feet. Within seconds my clothes were also gone, and I relished the feeling of all his skin against all of mine.
I relished it even more when he dragged me down to the sofa, his body over me, his face a picture of heat and desire as he took me enthusiastically to the lands of endless bliss.
After he’d taken me there a second time, we laid together, our bodies damp with perspiration and pleasingly sated. I decided I never wanted to get up again, never wanted to leave that sofa. It’d been such a lovely experience, better than any I’d had previous, and I wanted to make the memory last forever.
As I relaxed against Luca, just on the edge of drifting off to sleep, it occurred to me that I felt happy. Though being here with him had come about in one the worst ways possible, I felt good doing what I was doing. I felt like with him at my side, I could do anything, accomplish any goal I set for myself.
More, and as crazy as it might sound, I felt like I belonged. I’d never felt like I belonged anywhere before, even with Old Man Bertolli, but I did now. I belonged in this business, and I belonged in this house. I belonged here with Anna, and most importantly, I belonged in Luca’s arms.
14
Luca
As I lay there with Molly in my arms, I marveled at the look of her. She rested face down against my bare chest, her long dark hair scattered around her, her light dewy skin glowing in the dim night. A stunning contrast.
But then, that was this woman in a nutshell.
She was made of contrasts. Light and dark. Hard and soft. Fiery when angered and yet unintimidated when presented by anyone else’s wrath. Smart-assed yet with a penchant for thoughtfulness, especially when it counted. I’d suspected that her feisty nature would make her an exceptional lover, and I’d been correct.
Yet, as passionate as she’d been, there was nothing mean-spirited in her. Before I’d settled down, I’d had many nights with every type of woman under the sun. Some had been silly. Some had been annoying. Some had laid there unmoving. And a handful of them had been downright sadistic in the sack, and not in a good way.
But Molly, while fierce, wasn’t callous. Not sexually or any other manner. It was as if all the difficulties she’d had to handle had prepared her specifically for this life, prepared her to be with me.
And the very thought of that gave me a pang.
Alana, as much as I’d loved her, had been too good for me. For my life. That’s why I’d wanted to settle with her in an apartment away from the estate. Part of the reason I’d hesitated to marry her was in an attempt to keep her separate from everything being a Varasso entailed. I’d wanted her out of it. I’d wanted her safe.
Yet, it hadn’t made any difference. I’d lost her anyway. Her death hadn’t even been related to our way of life.
And the hard, cold truth of the matter was that once someone was a Varasso, they would always be a Varasso. As the heir, I’d been born into this life, and other than death, there was no escape.
Whether I liked it or not, whether I agreed with it or not, my destiny had been decided for me long ago.
“That’s a pretty drab expression you’re wearing considering what we’ve been doing,” Molly said, breaking into my morose reverie. She began to trace a finger along my left arm, coming across the half-inch scar on both sides of my wrist, one I’d had since childhood. “What’s this? A knife wound?” she asked, her tone jovial, playful.
“Yes,” I told her, making her freeze in my arms. I chuckled at her. “That came from what I like to call The Battle of the Saltshaker.”
“Huh?”
“As kids, Marco, Alessandro and I all decided we wanted the saltshaker at the same time. It became a bit of a skirmish, and I ended up with a steak knife through my wrist. I won the shaker, though. It’s funny because I’m not even interested in adding salt to my food now.”
“Was this at one of your Sunday dinners?”
“Yes,” I told her. “It upset my mom, so my dad bashed our heads together.”
“Bashed them together figuratively, right?”
I smiled. “No. Not figuratively.”
“Wow. That’s kind of brutal.”
I shrugged. “We’re brothers. Brothers fight. And our father disciplined us in his own way. Fortunately, Valentina Varasso loved us no matter how much we misbehaved. It’s one of the best things I remember about my mom.”
“Valentina is a beautiful name.” Her tone had grown far more sober. “When did she die?”
“When I was fifteen. It was a car accident.” I neglected to mention the real reason. The curse that had taken so much from this family. From me.
Molly’s hand went on the move again, this time down my left leg. “What about this one?”
“Another stab wound. Not from my brothers that time, though. I zigged when I should’ve zagged. It missed the bone, so the recovery time was fairly short.”
That scar just above my knee was the reason I’d limped into the nearest walk-in clinic and met a beautiful red-headed, blue-eyed nurse. She’d taken care of me. She’d also been the first woman I’d ever fallen in love with. I was so caught up in my memories of her, that when I heard Molly say her name, it was almost as if I’d somehow summoned it from the ether.
“Alana,” Molly said, her voice just above a whisper. “She’s Anna’s mom, isn’t she?”
I hadn’t realized that Molly had continued her explorations, wandering up to my right arm, the upper portion of which had Alana’s name emblazoned in ink. I’d gotten the tattoo right after my daughter had been born, wanting to honor her mother.
The sting of the needles drilling the black script letters into my skin had been nothing compared to the ache in my heart.
“Yes.”
Probably thinking she was changing the subject, Molly’s fingers then went to the bullet wound a few inches above Alana’s name. “When did this one happen?”
“The night of Anna’s birth.”
She sat back on my lap, searching my face. Whatever she found there made her caress my chin and give me a tender kiss with those bow-shaped lips of hers. “You don’t have to tell me.”
No, I didn’t. But as Molly laid her head on my collarbone, I realized I wanted to. “We weren’t married. My father objected to that, didn’t like the break with tradition. So when she went into labor, he sent me out on a ‘business meeting’ instead of letting me go with her to the delivery room. I got shot.”
“So you missed seeing your daughter born.”
“Yes
, but that’s not why.” My throat became suddenly too thick to speak through. I readjusted our positions so that I could bury my face in her hair. Her cinnamon aroma floated around me, giving me solace.
“She had a heart condition I didn’t know about. She didn’t know about it, either. I managed to get back to her right as she was beginning to push, but then she told me she didn’t feel well. She lost consciousness and the doctor ordered me out of the room.”
My chest hurt and my voice sounded like I’d gargled with battery acid, but I had to keep going. Needed to keep going. “She never woke up. Our baby was delivered by C-section.” I took a shuddering breath. “Anna’s heart is healthy. I had them run every test available to make sure.”
And that was it. All I could get out. Molly enveloped me with her entire body, her arms and legs holding me firmly against her.
After several minutes passed, she shivered. She was cold again, which meant I had to make a decision.
I hadn’t slept on the mattress I’d shared with Alana in months—once her scent had completely faded away, I’d taken to pulling out the hideaway kept inside this sofa instead—but I knew moving to that sleigh bed would keep Molly warm.
The chivalrous thing to do would be to carry her over there and tuck her inside the covers, but I hesitated. Though we’d shared something powerful together tonight, I didn’t want to go to that bed.
I just wasn’t ready.
Then, Molly did something I couldn’t have anticipated. She stood, showing me every bit of her radiant glory, and crossed to the bed herself.
I opened my mouth to object, but instead of climbing between the sheets, she grabbed a hold of the thick quilt folded on top of the bench along the footboard. She returned to me with it, laying down and wrapping the quilt around us.
“This okay?” she asked, cradling her head beneath my chin, a few strands of her hair tangling in the stubble along my chin.
I pulled her in even closer, letting my eyes fall shut. “This is perfect.”
15
Molly
I was small. So small I could fit in the cupboard under the kitchen sink. A baby was crying nearby, squalling really. But I didn’t have time to worry about that. He was coming. My dad was coming. And I had to hide. He scared me. Screamed at me. And last night, he’d hit me.
It’d hurt so bad. It still did. But I couldn’t cry, couldn’t make any noise, because if I did, he’d come after me again.
I heard my mom now. She was crying just like the baby. He’d slung her into the wall once already, and now he threw her into the kitchen. The dining room table in here filled more than half the room, and she landed on it.
Her crying became moans of pain.
I peeked through the tiny gap in the door—I’d never been able to close it all the way—seeing her lying on the cracked linoleum floor.
Blood ran down her face along with her tears.
I blinked, and suddenly, it wasn’t my mom laying in the floor, it was me. Not the six-year-old I’d been then, but the adult I was now. Only I didn’t have any strength. I was only half-conscious, but I could hear footsteps.
My father’s footsteps. They were coming toward me.
With great effort, I opened my eyes to see something in his hand. What was it? My vision was too blurry to tell.
But then it cleared enough for me to make it out. Some sort of tool. Something metal with a wooden handle.
Then I recognized it. A hammer. He was going to beat me with it, just like he had that man at work.
He was going to kill me…
“Molly... Molly, are you all right?”
I jumped awake to find Luca striding toward me from across his bedroom, Anna in his arms, both his voice and features concerned. My heart was sprinting so flat-out that I clutched at it, trying to slow it down.
To reorient myself I scrutinized man and daughter. He stood in nothing but flannel pajama bottoms, his feet and chest bare, his corded arms bouncing his daughter as she fussed. Her cherubic cheeks were wet, but she quit making noise the moment Luca placed a bottle to her mouth. She seized the thing and sucked on it greedily, the sound echoing in the room.
“Is she okay?” I asked to divert him.
“Just hungry. Sometimes I don’t get her food ready fast enough for her. Especially lately. Her pediatrician said it’s because she’s going through a growth spurt.” He kissed the top of her head and sat her down in a little device I hadn’t noticed in the corner. It looked like a plastic cart with toys attached. She immediately lifted the bottle in her chubby little hands, happy as a clam.
My mind hopped to my memory of the crying baby in my dream. Hearing Anna while still asleep must’ve instigated it. Then, my brain warped the combined sound of her and my old remembrances into a nightmare.
That was fun.
The first light of day had appeared outside, turning the sky from inky purple to something grayish blue. I focused on it, doing my best to return my pulse to normal.
I glanced down to find myself still naked, and rearranged the quilt, making sure I was covered. Granted, Anna was still a baby and had no idea what her father and I had been doing last night, but it seemed wrong to parade around in the nude in front of her. Also, Luca had come to sit beside me. I wasn’t typically modest or shy, but my dream had left me feeling unsettled.
“You never did say whether or not you were all right,” he said, refusing to be sidetracked.
“Fine. I’m fine.”
“Uh huh,” he said in disbelief, drawing a thumb beneath my eye and wiping away a tear.
Dammit.
“Must’ve poked myself in the eye.”
Now he bobbed his head to his left, gathering his lips to the side. It made his scruff all lopsided, which should’ve looked ludicrous but didn’t. No, he was still as hot as hell. “You know, I seem to recall that you acted this same way your first night here, trying to play the tough girl with me. I already know you’re a badass so you can stop pretending.”
That brought me up short for a second, but then I smirked at him, liking the sound of that. “I am a badass.”
He chuckled, putting his hands in the air. “See? Told you.” But just when I thought he’d drop it, he leaned in and whispered in my ear. “I trust you, Molly. It’d be nice if you’d learn to trust me.”
Then he stood, strolled into a truly gigantic walk-in closet and started shuffling around out of sight, I assume getting dressed. Since the baby had dropped her bottle and was now preoccupied with one of the toys on her walker, I took the opportunity to throw on yesterday’s clothes before sneaking out of the room.
Over the next month the goods coming from Corridor B came in without a single hitch. I’d traveled with Luca to meet with the various players involved, checking up on them and making sure they towed the line just like they always had. I watched how Luca negotiated with them, then put my own spin on things, laying on the charm and flirting a bit.
And in no time at all, they became putty in my hands.
I knew such a thing would never work with any of Luca’s brothers, so I didn’t bother with them. I didn’t know if it was because of the video, because I wasn’t Alana, or because they simply didn’t like me, but the Varassos treated me like they would a mousetrap kept under the fridge.
A necessary evil they’d prefer be kept out of sight.
Luca, however, treated me with nothing but respect. Even if it felt like he was distancing himself from me a little. I didn’t know how to describe our relationship. It was something I’d never had with anyone else. We’d spent the night together, but since then, he’d begun to focus primarily on our business interactions together.
He didn’t invite me back to his room or come to mine.
Every time I went to bed alone, I couldn’t help missing him. Yearning for him. Craving him. I wondered if something that had happened that night disappointed him in some way. Or maybe it was because he was the father of such a young child. Maybe he wanted to put Anna and her nee
ds before his.
I tried to understand and not feel thrust aside, but I wanted more from him. I just didn’t know how to voice it. And truly, given the situation, maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be.
I’d come up with a new idea to pay some of the middlemen in the organization with bulk shipments of marijuana they could sell themselves. It gave them the chance to up their incomes while letting the Varasso’s keep the extra funds in their coffers.
This meant the interest on their Swedish bank accounts could continue to grow, while the cash in their colossal metal safe—located in the wine cellar—remained undisturbed. It’d been a risk, and a big one, but Luca had allowed me to try it. And the experiment had worked. In a single month, Corridor B made double the amount of any other corridor.
After that two important things happened. Luca put me in charge of all eight corridors, and his brothers stopped behaving as if I was pond scum. The Sunday dinners improved massively, especially since Marco had finally apologized—he was a stubborn as a mule—so he and Luca could bury the hatchet. We became one big happy mafia family.
Sort of.
Ever since my experiment became a success, the middlemen within the organization began to request me, calling me Queen Molly. At first blush it was an ego boost. I’d never been the queen of anything before. But then I just found it funny. Even my YouTube channel had a meager following at best. It felt more like an inside joke than anything else.
But that was when I noticed a change in Luca.
At first, I blamed it on the increased workload. Both he and I saw a dramatic uptick in the amount of business we had to attend to. He expected a lot out of me, and I worked long hours for him. I didn’t even mind. I just wished he felt for me what I felt for him. Before I took over all the corridors, I’d catch him gazing at me sometimes in that longing way.
But then, he stopped. Totally.