Mafia Prince: A Second-Chance Mafia Romance (Moretti Mafia Book 1)

by Lucia Black

  Alessandro leaned against the back of the couch, arm over the top. “You know this won’t end well.” It couldn’t. Caroline was supposed to be dead. The longer Luca waited, the harder it would be to kill her, and the angrier their father would be that he hadn’t taken care of the problem.

  “I know,” Luca said, no trace of humor on his face. “I know it won’t end well.”

  “Then why?” Alessandro asked. He trusted Luca’s judgment over all things, so there must be some grand design. Some plan that even their father couldn’t put together, and Caroline was some piece of it. Luca could take over the world if he wanted to. He thought up clever plans on the spot, saw the big picture. Maybe Caroline fit into some puzzle he was building.

  Luca’s face held open honesty, as much innocence as was possible for a Moretti. “I looked at my options, and I picked the one I could live with.”

  Simple, but profound. Alessandro nodded slowly, considering. Luca had no master plan, no grand design. He just needed to be able to live with himself. Alessandro had choices too. Let Lorna marry Giovanni, and watch them both be miserable, or find a way to stop the wedding and have Lorna for himself. His heart ached. Love or duty? Selfishness or putting the family first? Loving Lorna the way she deserved, or watching from afar while she rotted away on the wrong man’s arm?

  He leaned his head on one fist. He couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t have her. That knowledge sank into his bones and weighed them down. He couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t have Lorna.

  The door opened and Lorna walked in looking tired. Not frowning, but not smiling either. Just weary. She spared Alessandro a glance before addressing Luca. “I’m going to bed. I’m beat.”

  “Goodnight, then,” Luca said.

  “‘Night.” Alessandro tilted his head seductively. “Don’t wait up for me.”

  Lorna ignored him and gave Luca a warm smile. “Goodnight, Luca.” She walked away and disappeared up the stairs while Luca snorted trying to stifle his laugh.

  Alessandro gave his brother the stink eye and stood to follow Lorna. He had a prize to claim, and a realization to come to terms with.

  15

  Lorna

  Lying should have been easier over the phone, but Lorna’s cheeks still ached from faking smiles. Bruno Moretti had been thorough in his questioning. How were things going? Was she comfortable? Was Giovanni behaving himself? Wasn’t Giovanni a good cook? Did he make her wash the dishes? She shouldn’t let him make her wash the dishes. Gianna wanted to tell her about the flowers for the wedding. Did Giovanni even know what a flower was? Wasn’t he funny? Didn’t she just love his sense of humor? And on it went.

  Lorna set her earrings on the dresser. She’d already changed into her nightclothes and had just let her hair down when the door opened, and she spun around to face Alessandro. He would want to know what his father said and why the call took so long, but Lorna wasn’t keen on reliving it. “I’m not really in the mood to talk about it—”

  His mouth on hers cut off her words, and she flailed a little in the unexpected kiss. It took him licking across the seam of her mouth for her to realize that he didn’t intend to stop. She let her eyes fall closed, lost in the way he sucked her bottom lip between his teeth. Lost in the hands on her hips, gliding over her ass. Lost in the heat of the moment pressing her backward to stumble a few steps, wrapping her arms around Alessandro’s neck to keep from falling. He pulled his tongue out of her mouth to push her down onto the bed.

  Her brain took its time in catching up to the reality of the situation. Kissing her fiancé’s brother. Thoroughly enjoying kissing her fiancé’s brother. His eyes were dark and full of something deliciously dangerous. Her heart leapt into her throat and she hated him for making her feel like this, but holy shit did she want him. He leaned over to kiss her again, but she stopped him with a hand over his mouth.

  “We shouldn’t . . .” Guilt bubbled under her arousal and soured the electricity twisting in her stomach.

  He pulled her hand away from his face and pressed her wrist into the bed. His voice was a low growl that sent shivers down her spine. “The only words I want to hear out of your mouth are yes, no, and Alessandro.” It left no room for argument. Not that she wanted to argue. His grip on her wrist tightened. “Understood?”

  Guilt forgotten, she wrapped her legs around his hips. “Yes.” There was no reason for the smell of pine to be intoxicating, except that it lingered on his skin and she couldn’t get enough of it.

  He knelt beside the bed, pushing her legs apart and holding them there while he kissed the inside of her thigh. She squirmed against him, tensing her thighs against his fingers. She hadn’t realized how much tension she had pent up. The hem of her shorts didn’t prove a barrier for him. He nosed over the seam of the fabric, sending lightning through her blood.

  “Fuck.” She fisted a hand in his hair.

  He lifted his head to smirk up at her. “Not one of the three words we discussed, but I’ll allow it.”

  She re-threaded her fingers through his hair, holding him up and away from her. “What are you doing?” Guilt crept back up on the edges of her conscience.

  His thumbs rubbed circles on her inner thighs and even through the material of her shorts, she could feel the heat of his breath. “I won the race, so I get to kiss you.” A statement of fact.

  “You’ve already kissed me.” She propped herself up on her elbows. She didn’t want him to stop, but she had to point out that this was beyond what he earned by winning the race. Pride insisted that she remind him he only won a kiss.

  He pinched her thigh, hard. “Yes, no, or Alessandro,” he reminded her with steel in his voice that flared the flame in her chest. Then his humor returned, and he pressed his lips against her center. “I get to kiss you where I want.” Another kitten kiss. “And I want to kiss your beautiful pussy.” He leaned forward to tug the top of her shorts down with his teeth, then opened his mouth to let the waistband snap back into place. “Is that all right with you, princess?”

  Her lungs weren’t working properly, and her heart was trying to make up for it by beating twice as fast. “Yes,” she said with as much authority as she could muster.

  He pulled her shorts off and continued to kiss her thighs, leaving little bites that would bloom into colorful bruises. She tried to steer his head to where she needed it, but he kept teasing. She pulled his hair and he gasped, made eye contact with her, and very deliberately mouthed at her clit through her panties. She was already soaked, but the sudden stimulation made her even wetter.

  He tugged at her panties and she lifted her hips to allow him to pull them off. He took a moment to appreciate the sight of her. It was hot, the way he looked at her like a man stranded in the desert would look at a pool of fresh water. She whined in discontent.

  He met her eyes again. “Do you want me to stop?”

  “No.” She didn’t hesitate. If he stopped now, she’d go crazy. Never mind the mental gymnastics she’d have to perform later to convince herself this was okay. It felt good. And she knew Alessandro. She knew it would feel better than good.

  He smiled and purred, “Good girl.” His tongue split her folds from her entrance to her clit and she didn’t hold back the gasp of pleasure that tore through her. Her hand tightened in his hair, and she squeezed her eyes shut. His tongue nudged her clit, just little kitten licks meant to tease.

  “Alessandro,” she groaned. He sucked gently, and she arched her back off the bed. “Fucking tease.”

  His hand wandered up to pinch her nipple. He lifted his slightly, lips shining in the low light. “I said I wanted to kiss you. I didn’t say I’d make you come.” His tongue flattened against her and he squeezed her thighs.

  She threw her head back and made a noise of frustration. He was bluffing, but she was impatient. He’d always been on her case for being impatient. She loosened her hold on his hair thinking maybe if she weren’t trying to control him, he’d do what she wanted. His tongue pr
essed against her entrance and she clenched her fingers in his dark curls to hold on for dear life. Her feet flexed and pointed, heels digging into his back, knees bending over his shoulders trying to pull him closer. He watched her like a predatory cat, lazy in his movements, working her into a desperate, breathless state. She shoved at his head. She needed more.

  He gave it to her, thrusting his tongue inside her, twisting, curling, she couldn’t even tell what and she didn’t care because she was floating. Her soul was weightless, tethered to reality by nothing but her hand in his hair.

  So close. She was so close, hips canting up to meet his mouth. The coil of heat in her stomach wound tight, ready to snap. Then all at once, he was gone, leaning back, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, looking like the cat who got the canary. Self-satisfied. Victorious.

  The moment just after the building roar of thunder is completely silent. An empty chasm, a soundless void. Lorna’s orgasm had been ripped away from her, and the silence stunned her senses. He hadn’t been bluffing. He actually meant to leave her like this.

  He stood up to walk around the bed and laid down on the other side, back to her as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t just brought her to the edge of what would have been a fantastic orgasm and then walked away. She was livid. Her labored breathing filled the vacant silence in the room. She scooted up to curl on her side, as far away from him as she could possibly be and still be on the mattress. She couldn’t believe it. The fucking tease.

  She could finish herself off with minimal effort, she was still so wound up, but her pride wouldn’t let her give him the satisfaction. He thought he won, and Lorna couldn’t abide that. She rubbed her thighs together and bit her lip to hold back a whine. She couldn’t let him win. She’d lay there awake all night if she had to. But guilt seeped back into her mind and saturated her thoughts, killing any remaining arousal. It was probably for the best that he hadn’t let her finish. Weeks until her wedding and she let Alessandro worm his way into her head and into her pants. Guilt weighed her down until she sank into a restless sleep.

  16

  Alessandro

  Alessandro strutted into their bedroom and stopped with his arms crossed over his chest. He’d been good, behaved himself. He hadn’t made a move in two days. It was meant to torture Lorna, but it had backfired spectacularly, and he’d ended up equally torturing himself. To be so close to something he so desperately wanted, yet unable to reach it. She was absolutely tantalizing, and she had to know it. The way she pouted, or smirked, or lifted her chin in total defiance. The authority in her voice and the confidence in her posture. She was the water that would quench his thirst, and she receded every time he tried to drink.

  She ignored him, turning a page in the book she was pretending to read. She didn’t look at him, but the tension in her shoulders, the way her jaw tightened—he could tell she was wearing down. That, like him, these last two days had been agonizing, and she wanted him. She glanced quickly in his direction, then focused back on the tattered paperback clutched in her hands.

  “We’re going out today,” he informed her. He’d waited long enough. It was time to hook her and reel her in.

  Her head snapped up to look at him, surprise looking absolutely precious on her usually composed features. It didn’t last long, though, and she was back to stoically unimpressed. “I thought the point of being out here was to avoid people.”

  He smiled. “Just get ready. Dress comfortable.” He left the room to give her some privacy. He knew she hated to be cooped up like this, doing nothing. And after all the bad dates he suggested to Giovanni, she would be itching for something exciting. He called an axe-throwing range that morning and rented it out for just the two of them. He didn’t know if she’d ever thrown axes before, but he couldn’t imagine she did it often. It would be perfect for them. Something competitive, at least marginally dangerous, and miles more exciting than watching Luca do sudoku and crossword puzzles.

  Lorna came downstairs in ripped jeans and a baseball shirt. Her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, nothing fantastic, nothing crazy, but somehow, she was still breathtaking. That was her power. It was an aura more than anything physical that drew him to her. An air of confidence she always carried. Of course, she was also fucking hot. That didn’t go unnoticed.

  “Well?” she asked, putting her hands on her hips. “What now?”

  Alessandro smiled. “Now we go,” he answered, gesturing for her to go out the front door before him. “After you.”

  She strode past him without a word, walking swiftly to get to her side of the car. Alessandro kept on her heels, reaching for the handle before she could so he could open her door like a gentleman. She huffed a “thanks” at him, sliding in without some much as glancing at him. He chuckled to himself as he closed it, walking to the driver’s side, getting in, and pushing the button to start the engine.

  Silence spanned between them until she finally asked where they were going. He didn’t answer. It wasn’t a long drive and teasing her had quickly become his favorite pastime. He could sense her frustration simmering. The parking lot was empty when they pulled up to the Axe Throwing Club. He offered her a hand to help her out of the car, which she refused.

  “Have you ever thrown an axe before?” he asked, holding the door open for her with a gentlemanly bow.

  She looked around the space, clever eyes taking everything in. “Can’t say that I have.”

  The interior was industrial with wide lights hanging from chains in the high ceiling. A couple of tables and chairs to one side of the entrance, and a counter to the other—empty, as Alessandro had requested. Legalities spoke loudly, but money spoke louder. The space opened up into a long corridor of throwing lanes separated by black fencing and steel beams. Between each lane was a row of axes hanging on the dividers, waiting to be thrown. A rough wooden target scared by previous visitors’ axes was mounted to the brick wall at the end of each lane with concentric circles numbered by point value and a red circle in the center.

  He wrapped an arm around her shoulder to lead her to the throwing range. “I’ll show you.” She wiggled out of his grip, and he picked up an ax. He made a show of gripping the handle, then lifting it behind his head to let it fly toward the target.

  The axe embedded itself in the second ring of the target. Two points. Not bad for a first throw. He was out of practice, and being this close to Lorna messed with his depth perception, so he patted himself on the back. He threw another axe. This one spun through the air to thwack into the ring just outside the center. Four points.

  He smirked at Lorna and handed her an axe. “You try.”

  She moved to her own target and tossed. The axe sailed high over the board and hit the brick wall, then clattered to the floor.

  Alessandro laughed. “Calm down, princess, you’re not trying to slay a dragon. Just aim for the target.”

  She gave him a dirty look and picked up another axe. She took a breath before she threw. The axe stuck in the very bottom of the target, half the blade hanging in thin air. She looked triumphant for a moment, then it fell to the ground. She made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat. Before Alessandro could laugh, she reached and picked up another axe, tossing it hard. This one landed in the first ring and stayed there.

  He clapped. “See, I knew you’d get it.”

  She rolled her eyes and threw another one. It spun wrong, and the handle bounced off the target. She stomped her foot. “It hit the middle. You saw it hit the middle.”

  “Mhm,” he agreed, loving how animated she got in a competition. She seemed the most vivacious like this. Bouncing on her toes, measuring her movements before she threw, focus knitting her eyebrows together, lower lip pulled between her teeth. But if he told her how adorable she looked, he’d probably get an axe between his eyes.

  She threw another, and it sailed in a beautiful arc to stick itself in the second ring of the target. She pointed a finger in Alessandro’s face. “Ha.”


  He walked around her to the next target and threw as smoothly as he could. It hit the edge of the center circle. He smirked at Lorna. “Ha, returned.”

  She pouted, and it wasn’t fair. He wanted nothing more to pull that lip into his mouth and suck it. “You’ve done this before though. It’s only my first time.”

  “I’ve been with you for other firsts and you were good. You always catch on quick,” he said, winking at her.

  She narrowed her eyes at him, taking a deep breath and opening her mouth to argue with him, or call him a name, or cuss him out. Who knew?

  “Relax, princess. You’re doing great,” he told her. “I just don’t want you to get a big head. Have to show you who’s boss here.” Taunting her always got a good reaction.

  She slapped the handle of an ax against the flat of her hand with a wide smile. “Boss is a strange way to say egotistical asshole.”

  Alessandro was in love. Irrevocably and irrefutably. He would kill for Lorna. He would die for Lorna. He would move heaven and earth for her. The feeling squeezed his heart until it ached, tightened his chest until he couldn’t breathe. She was perfect. But she wasn’t his. Not yet. And that soured the sweetness of the moment.

  They threw axes for about an hour, hurling as many witty insults at each other as axes at the targets. Lorna improved with every throw. She always picked up on things so quickly. He wasn’t joking when he’d said it, even if his meaning was dual sided. It was a really admirable trait. So was the unwavering confidence and air of superiority she regained after ten or so throws. Some hair had worked loose from her ponytail and Alessandro desperately wanted to tuck it behind her ear.