“You’re a man I could do business with.”
“You know what you’re suggesting.” He sighs darkly. “War.”
“We’re already at war. This is just evening the odds.”
He stares at me, his eyes flickering between dozens of different emotions. Joining me and fighting against Franco will mean severing all his ties to his old family. It will mean starting his own after Franco is dead or in handcuffs.
“Can I have time to think about it?”
“Sure.” I glance at my silver watch. “Let’s head inside and have some coffee. You’ve got an hour to let me know if you’re going to help me… or if I’m going to toss you in the ocean.”
I stride toward the warehouse, leaving him to wonder if I’m serious as I pace away coldly.
It’s revenge or death as far as he’s concerned.
But Ottavio is old school.
Some of those bastards will take the bullet rather than betray their family.
I know how that feels, a deep pulsing in my gut. It’s my will to always protect Lucy and the joy and love we will bring into this world, protect it from the grime and the underworld and the violence and the pain.
I’ll protect her from everything, and definitely from the fucking Rosso Family.
I’ll turn feral if I have to, for my woman.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Lucy
I’ve just had a shower and gotten changed, and now I sit on the bed with my hands in my lap. I stare around the opulence of the room, taking in the wall-hangings and the classic art and the tall marble columns in each corner. Everything is sleek with fur rugs draped over the floor.
It’s like being inside a palace.
When Luca left me – swirling in an emotional storm of confusion and need – I thought about going to find some breakfast. But the thought of stumbling around his palace, getting lost, running into one of his men…
That last one sends a shiver through me.
What if this is all a game and Luca is sending me out there to get hurt?
My body rebels at the notion, my feisty womb screaming at me that he’d never do something like that. I try to tell my sizzling desire that I don’t know him, but my feelings don’t care. They twist and coil around me until I’m trapped.
I don’t know him… but it feels like I’ve known him forever.
He’s a stranger… but my body aches to bring his children into the world.
Love, at first sight, doesn’t exist… but something is aching deep inside of me, an inexplicable pulse that glows and glitters and explodes like love. And that makes no freaking sense, none at all, because I can’t love this man. I shouldn’t even be able to like this man.
But it doesn’t matter.
He made me feel more in thirty minutes than anybody has in my entire life.
I flinch at the knocking coming from the door.
Is it one of his men?
I need to calm down.
But panic rules me.
“Excuse me, Lucy?” It’s a woman’s voice, high-pitched and friendly. “I’m Maria Lioni, Luca’s aunt. He’s kindly letting me stay here and asked if I’d have breakfast with you. And I’m dying to meet you. I’ve never seen Luca so besotted before.”
Besotted?
My heart pumps rapidly at the thought I could invoke such strong emotion in Luca Lioni, but my anxiety tells me it’s a trick, a clever cruel lie to reel me in.
“Really?” I say, somehow forcing my voice steady.
“Yes. I’m sorry I couldn’t check in on you sooner. I’ve only just arrived, you see. May I come in, dear?”
“Sure,” I call across the room, even as instincts scream at me to say no. “It’s unlocked.”
The door opens and Maria Lioni steps in.
She’s tall and elegant, with pearls at her neck and her ears. She’s probably around sixty, but she holds herself with a grace and elegance that makes her seem younger.
She struts across the room in emerald-colored block heels, standing at the edge of the bed.
“So you’re the famous Lucy.”
I laugh, smiling up at her. She’s so forward, making it easy for me to go along for the ride. I hope I don’t have to think of something to say. I’m terrible with meeting new people.
But still, this is something normal buried among all the craziness. I’m meeting my—my what? Am I meeting my boyfriend’s aunt, or is that taking things way too fast?
“Well?” she goes on. “Don’t just giggle up at me, dear.”
“Yes,” I say. “But I don’t feel very famous.”
She leans down and hooks her arm through mine, pulling me to my feet and basically dragging me toward the door. I giggle again at her forwardness, glad I changed into jeans, flats, and a sort-of stylish T-shirt. The clothes were already in the drawers, waiting for me.
“Is that okay?” Maria asks as I tug at the T-shirt.
“Yeah, it’s fine. Just a little baggy.”
We walk down a wide marble hallway, with paintings of nature and animals and life watching us from the walls. Maria’s heels click on the floor, in the spaces between the rugs, as she struts. Click-click-click, echoing all around us.
“He sent some of his men down to the store, I’d wager. Once we’ve got your measurements I’ll have my stylist make something truly lovely for you. A whole new wardrobe.”
I smooth my hands over my belly, an instinct I can’t fight. “Measurements? Um, I’m okay.”
“Don’t be silly, dear. You have a lovely figure.”
She wraps her arm around me and gives me a squeeze, with more affection in the gesture than I’ve ever received, that I ever believed an older woman would show me. I’ve never had an older sister, a mom, an aunt, a mentor. It’s always been just me, the ignored loser in high school, the girl who didn’t quite fit…
And now I’m crying, tears choking me.
“Oh, sweet girl,” Maria says, hugging me to her chest. “What did I say? I’m sorry.”
“No,” I hiccup, praying I’m not humiliating myself. “I’m sorry. I’m tired. It’s just I’ve never been complimented before, and now you and Luca have both done it… It’s a lot to take in.”
“Let’s go and have some breakfast,” she says, stroking a tear from my cheek. “We’ll sit on the balcony and I’ll introduce you to Toto.”
Toto perches in Maria’s lap, curled into a tight fluffy orange ball. He’s a Chihuahua crossed with a poodle, and he has the most orange hair on any dog I’ve ever seen.
“Quite a little specimen, isn’t he?” Maria says, smiling fondly down at him as he yawns and stretches in his sleep. “He’ll be three this year, and I’m already grieving at the thought of him growing old. That’s why I never needed children of my own. I’ve got my son right here.”
I smile as I take a sip of orange juice, looking out over Luca’s estate. We’re on the rear balcony – there are five balconies apparently – which looks over his acres of land. There’s a luscious green lawn and then a park at the back, and a pond behind that, and a tennis court and three golf holes. Finally, beyond all of that, I can vaguely make out the wall of his perimeter.
“The only thing you’re missing is a helipad,” I murmur, awe lacing my voice.
“We have one,” Maria says with a smirk that’s all Luca.
“Of course you do,” I say, shaking my head in disbelief. “This is crazy.”
“Not as crazy as this sudden romance. I’ve never heard Luca do anything like this before. He called me sounding like when he was a boy, overexcited about something. He couldn’t even get all his words out as he explained it to me.”
“Really?” I say, my cheeks glowing at the thought of making Luca behave like that.
“Really,” she says firmly. “And then he explained. He was choosing you. How you’re going to have children together. I had to come and meet you… if only to make sure you felt the same.”
I clasp my hands in my lap. “I know I shouldn’t feel the sa
me.”
“What do you mean by that?”
I sigh. “Because the chances of this being true – of this not being a trick – are so low. Look at him and look at me. I’ll be even more upset once I’ve gotten my hopes up.”
“Oh, dear girl,” Maria says. “Is that how you think, imagining that everything and everybody is out to hurt you?”
“Yes,” I say, with a humorless laugh. “It’s what the world’s taught me, I guess.”
“Luca is not tricking you. I am not tricking you. This is how Luca feels. I’ve never seen him so...intense, even when it comes to his work. I need to know if you feel the same.”
“Yes,” I cry, unable to reign in my words. “I feel everything he’s described to me. I want a family. I want children. I know it makes no sense. I know it probably makes me mad, then fine… I’m mad. I’m crazy because the man of my dreams – an older man who can protect and take care of me – has chosen me, and I believe him.”
Emotion threatens to crack my voice again, but I contain it.
“This is amazing,” Maria says. “Love at first sight. I thought it was a myth.”
I swallow, my throat burning with emotion.
I need to get ahold of myself.
Or am I allowed to cry if I feel like it will help?
“Me too,” I say. “I don’t know anything about him. All I know is he’s the leader of the Lioni Family, but that’s it.”
Maria spreads her hands. “What do you want to know? I’ve known him all his life. Ask away.”
“Won’t he mind?”
Maria laughs. “Dear, if you’re going to be the Mafia queen, you can’t worry endlessly about whether or not your king will mind you doing something. A queen acts. She doesn’t hesitate.”
I can’t tell if she’s making fun of me, but her words bolster me nonetheless, making me want to sit up straighter and assert myself with more confidence.
“Fine. Where are Luca’s parents?”
“Dead.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
She shrugs and lets out a mournful sigh. “His poor mother died when he was twelve. Cancer. And his father – my dear older brother – was killed in a mafia war when he was a young man.”
My heart aches for Luca, my mind throwing up images of twelve year old Luca weeping over his mother’s death.
“A mafia war?” I say.
“It was between Franco’s Family and ours, and Franco’s almost won, but after Luca’s father was assassinated and Luca took control, he and his cousin – Aldo – they beat back Franco with weapons and treaties. We’re lucky Aldo was there to reign Luca in even at such a young age.”
My body swarms with unbidden heat, my mind flooded with the sight of Luca rage-filled and ready to protect his family.
“Wait, so Aldo’s his cousin?”
“You want to know who his parents are, if not me,” she says.
“Yes,” I say, my mind swimming with all this new information.
“I was married when I was younger, and Aldo was my husband’s son from a previous marriage. My husband passed and I raised Aldo. But he spent much of his time here, with my sister-in-law, and after that, he fell right into the life with Luca. I didn’t mean for it to happen. I was never built for parenthood. But it worked out in the end.”
“You sound like you did your best,” I say quickly, anxiety pricking me at the notion I’ve offended her.
She reaches over and touches my hand. “Thank you for saying that.”
We watch the estate for a time, the verdant sun-kissed lawns and the glittering of the pond. It’s like we’re in paradise.
“Maria, I want to ask you something, but I don’t want to offend you.”
The words cost me a great effort as I force them out, pushing them past my clawing self-consciousness.
“You want to know if Luca has killed anyone.”
I glance at her reflexively, shocked at the smile touching her lips, her wide friendly eyes. Silly thoughts invade my mind that Maria could become the mentor figure I’ve always craved, but I have to fight them back. I have to live in reality, not the way I wish the world was.
“It’s an honest question,” she says.
“Has he?” I ask.
“Luca has killed people.” She nods. “But only when he absolutely has to and only if they’ve broken one of his rules.”
“What rules?”
“Never hurt a child, a woman, an innocent, or civilian. He will kill men in Mafia wars, but everybody knows what they’re signing up for. They’re like soldiers. Everybody else is off-limits… and even in wars, it’s rare if Luca has his way. He’s not a killer.”
“Unless he has to be,” I whisper, passion flaring into my voice, perhaps misplaced.
My thoughts flash to our future family, to how far he’ll go to keep us safe.
“Unless he has to be,” she repeats. “And he is intelligent. He makes it so it hardly ever needs to happen. Most of his businesses are legitimate now. He keeps the drugs off the streets. It’s Franco and the other criminal organizations that mess everything up.”
“Is he a good man?” I blurt.
I didn’t plan on throwing the question out there so bluntly. It rose up from some deep place inside of me, as though my womb has taken control of my lips and is forcing me to toss it out there. It’s like a primal piece of me needs to know if this man is trustworthy, protective, intense, and capable like my instincts are telling me.
And maybe Maria won’t be the most reliable source.
Maybe his aunt will tell me a skewed version of events.
But as crazy as it is, I trust Maria, even if I know I shouldn’t.
“Yes,” she says, without a hint of doubt in her voice. “Luca is the best man I have ever known. He is honest when he can afford to be. He is good to his men. He protects life at all costs. This city would have turned into a bloodbath long ago without Luca pulling the strings.”
A smile spreads across my face, unbidden but intensely welcome like a cool salve rubbed over my rawest and most emotional parts.
CHAPTER NINE
Luca
“Time’s up, Ottavio,” I tell him, drumming my fingers against the table.
When he said he wanted to think about it, I didn’t think he’d sit in a chair with his head in his hands, posing like some Roman statue deep in thought. He’s been sitting like that ever since we came into the small office, lost in thought, his fingernails clawing against his bald head.
“I’ve never betrayed the family,” he says.
“I understand. But Franco is unhinged. Have you heard what he’s trying to start in the slums?”
“That landlord stuff?”
I cough out a grim laugh. “Ottavio, if my biggest problem was Franco running some housing scam, I wouldn’t give a damn about any of this. No, he’s trying to get girls hooked on drugs and turn them into hookers. He hasn’t told you about this?”
Ottavio peers closely at me, as though trying to tell if I’m lying. I stare blankly back. I don’t have to bluff or convince him of anything, because I’m telling the complete truth.
“Shit,” Ottavio whispers. “That’s fucked up.”
“How many men would follow you?”
I appreciate the way he pauses and does some mental calculations. If I asked Franco a question like that, he’d immediately roar that all his men would follow him. It’s the way it goes with fake tough guys, with drink-addled bastards who presume to mock the future mother of my children.
“Half,” he says, nodding. “At least half, yes.”
“Then we will take those men and secure the docks. I will handle the families of the Union workers. We’ll split the rest of the assets between us. You’ll become a boss like you probably should’ve been all along. And we’ll deal with Franco.”
“Kill him?”
I nod. “If it comes to that. Or make him take a long, long holiday somewhere secure, with sedatives to calm the fucker down if he starts acting tough.�
��
“Prison? You’d send him to prison?”
“Yes, I would.”
He nods, taking this information onboard calmly. And then he laughs, bitter and low. “Why do I feel like I haven’t got much choice?”
I glance around the small room. A dusty office, disused for a long time. It’s just us. Our men are waiting outside… well, my men are waiting. His men are tied up and gagged and blindfolded, anticipating their fate.
“There’s always a choice. You’ll become my prisoner. If you’re telling the truth and Franco doesn’t care about your life, there’ll be no use keeping you.”
“So you’ll kill me.”
“Or get you locked up. Yes. Those are your choices. But it doesn’t have to be so fucking grim. You hate Franco. I saw that at the fashion show. You don’t want murders and rape and drugs and all the nastiness he brings.”
“No,” he whispers fiercely. “I don’t. I’ve never wanted that.”
“Then help me clean the city up,” I tell him.
He reaches into his shirt and pulls out a cross, wrapping his fist around it and muttering a few words in Italian. I lean back while he prays, fighting down a glimmer of anger… the anger is a hot tight ball, but I keep it buried. It’s been throbbing and swelling each time I think about my woman all alone at my estate.
I hope Aunt Maria is there now, keeping her company.
Ottavio opens his eyes and stares firmly at me, with the sort of steady conviction I respect in a fighting man.
“I will do it, Luca. I will join you. I will help you get rid of Franco.”
I stand and offer him my hand. He does the same, and we shake on it.
“Good,” I say, letting a smirk touch my lips. “Because I really didn’t want to kill you, Ottavio. My father always had good things to say about you.”
“He was a good man,” Ottavio says.
“Now let’s discuss logistics.”
“Wait.” Ottavio tilts his head at me. “Don’t you want proof that I’m going to be loyal to you?”
“I don’t need it. I trust my judgment.” I laugh dryly. “And I trust the recording device planted under this table.”
Ottavio smiles tightly. “Which proves that I have betrayed Franco, and which you will show him if I stray.”
Model for the Mob: A Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance Page 5