The Guzzi Legacy: Vol 2

by Bethany-Kris

  That wasn’t good enough for Cella.

  She missed her kid so much.

  All the time, really.

  Once she had little Tiffany pulled into her lap, Cella wrapped her daughter in a tight hug and breathed in the familiar scent of her child. No matter the stresses of the day or what was going on in her life, all she needed to do was hug this girl to make it a million times better. Maybe that was the most beautiful thing about unconditional love.

  “How was your day?” Cella asked.

  Tiffany leaned back, still beaming while she stared at her mother. Thankfully, the French braid she’d allowed her mother to put her hair in that day managed to stay put through all her playtime and whatever else she’d taken part in at pre-K. “Pretty good—I missed you, though.”

  Cella pressed her lips together, smiling just a little bit. “Yeah, me too, but you know it’s good to go to school, right? That’s how you get smarter, and—”

  “I know, Ma.”

  And yet ...

  “Still missed you,” Tiffany said.

  Cella sighed.

  Because where was the lie?

  This was just yet another reason why she found herself constantly worrying about what would happen when Tiffany started kindergarten in the fall. Right now, she spent only a couple of hours here or there in daycare and two days a week at pre-K. Cella’s job allowed her the privilege of having her child with her throughout the week a lot of the time.

  Once school started, though?

  That would all change.

  How Tiffany might react to that was still up in the air, and a major source of worry for Cella the closer the time came for her girl to start the school year. Then again, this girl was constantly surprising her mother with the level of maturity she showed at just five years old, so anything was possible.

  Hell, maybe it would be Cella who cried that first day. Not that she would tell anyone she did so. Those little moments were her secrets to keep.

  “If that’s all ...”

  Cella forgot all about the waiting enforcer in her office doorway. Meeting the gaze of the man, she smiled and nodded. “That is all. Thanks again, Alex, for looking after my girl.”

  “Anything for family of the boss. Have a good day, Cella.”

  “You, too.”

  She quieted as the man left her office, and she was left with only her daughter. Tiffany pushed off her lap, talking about something she wanted to show her mother in the small backpack she toted back and forth to daycare or pre-K. Cella, on the other hand, wondered if her daughter had managed to realize just how different they were from the other people around them. Or even, if Tiffany understood that her little life was not like the other kids’ lives.

  How many kids had a driver?

  A bodyguard?

  It was a conversation she knew was going to happen someday with her daughter, the same way she’d had it with her father when she was about eight years old, but thankfully ... today didn’t seem like that day. Tiffany was more interested in what was in her backpack, and Cella was entirely willing to push those thoughts of the mafia and this life they lived to the side.

  It hadn’t touched her daughter yet.

  Not in a way Tiffany understood.

  Sure, the mafia took her father, but Tiffany didn’t know that. She didn’t know that the death of the man who helped to give her life came from the connections of people she loved more than anything. Cella had a long time to settle her mind and heart with those things, and she still wasn’t sure that she dealt with it.

  At least, not well.

  And here in Rochester?

  She felt like it wasn’t in her face all the time.

  Or maybe that was just her running.

  Who knew?

  “Here it is,” Tiffany said, pulling a craft from her backpack that was slightly crumpled but it didn’t detract from the finger-painted tree. “S’a maple tree, Ma.”

  Cella took the picture from her girl, sighing under her breath at the reminder staring her in the face. “Still on the maple thing, huh?”

  “Marcus said—”

  “Oh, don’t worry, I remember everything Marcus says.”

  Far better than her daughter knew ...

  That man filled her thoughts constantly. For reasons she very much liked, and for others that kept her up at night worrying and wondering and ... everything.

  “You know it’s not maple season where he lives, right?” Cella asked, lowering the picture to meet Tiffany’s expectant gaze. “You can’t go out and tap a tree until like February, or something.”

  “But he said I can see how they make stuff.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “When are we going to see Marcus again?”

  Cella pursed her lips.

  This kid pulled no punches.

  “I was thinking next weekend, I would probably go to Toronto to work, and—”

  “I can come, too!”

  Cella’s immediate reaction was to explain to her child that it might be better if she stayed. After all, no one said she could just tote her kid with her while she worked. Even if this weekend wasn’t about work. The rational side of her brain was louder, however, and those first thoughts weren’t what slipped out of her mouth.

  “How about we call Marcus, and you can ask him if he’d like for you to come next weekend with me to Toronto?” she asked.

  Tiffany’s whole face lit up all over again as she nodded fast. “Okay, you call, I’ll talk.”

  Her laughter colored up the office as she reached for the phone. Even as she dialed Marcus’s number, she had no doubt about what his answer would be for Tiffany. The man had no qualms about showing his obvious affection for the girl. As sweet as it was, and as much as it melted Cella’s heart into a puddle of emotion she couldn’t understand, it also scared her a little bit.

  Surely, that was normal.

  After she’d dialed the number, she put the phone on speaker for Tiffany to talk when Marcus picked up the call. The last time Cella talked to him had been a few days ago when she sent those sketches and other emails which then led into their conversation about her husband. She hadn’t called again because nothing work-related was needed between them, but she found herself struggling not to pick up the phone just to chat because she wanted to.

  And that had nothing to do with work.

  “Ciao, Marcus here,” came the familiar dark voice on the phone when the call was picked up.

  “Hi, Marcus!”

  He didn’t even need to ask who it was.

  The man just knew. “Tiffany—your mom knows you have the phone, right?”

  “I know,” Cella said quietly.

  Faintly.

  Her heart was doing that thing again.

  Beating too hard.

  Making her confused.

  “Ma said I could ask you if I could come with her to Toronto next weekend,” Tiffany said, smiling at her mother when Cella nodded.

  “Well,” Marcus drawled, “I should hope your mom brings you along. I miss you.”

  Somehow, Tiffany brightened even more.

  Cella knew Marcus didn’t intend to do it—he was just a good guy with an honorable heart and far too many things about him made the man very attractive to her—but he was drawing her in like a fish on a line. Every word he spoke; each thing he did ... it all reeled her closer.

  And she was helpless to stop it.

  What was going to happen when he finally caught her?

  That’s what terrified her.

  • • •

  “Cella, what are you up to, dolcezza?”

  “Hi, Grandpapa Lucian!”

  Her father’s chuckles echoed throughout the car at Tiffany’s greeting. She’d shouted it from the backseat like she was sure her grandfather wouldn’t hear it otherwise, and Cella was positive that hurt her father’s ears. Not that he said a word one way or another.

  “Hi, sweetheart. I thought you were with Grandmama today?”

  “She w
as,” Cella said, coming back into the conversation, “but I grabbed her a little earlier than I thought I would.”

  “Ah, yes, because you’re heading to Toronto for the weekend, right?”

  “Yep.”

  Her father cleared his throat, and Cella tried to focus her attention on the road ahead of her. It was a little difficult when Lucian said, “You know, I would believe this was only for work if you went alone, but when you bring Tiff along, too, my opinion begins to change, Cella.”

  Right.

  And that was enough of that conversation happening while her daughter could hear. Cella was quick to hand the headphones for the tablet her daughter used on long trips to play her educational games. Without even needing to be told, Tiffany put the headphones atop her head, the large muffs covering her ears entirely before she turned them on. Only then did Cella return to the conversation with her father, feeling slightly safer that little ears weren’t still listening in.

  “Do you mind?” she asked her dad.

  Lucian laughed, clearly unashamed. “Sorry, did I touch a nerve there?”

  “No, but—”

  “Cella, you know I don’t have a problem with this ... thing you have going on with Marcus Guzzi, don’t you?”

  “Even if you did,” she muttered, “not sure it would make a difference to what I wanted or did, Daddy, let’s just be honest here.”

  She swore she could feel her father’s smile when he replied, “And I would expect nothing different, I promise. But ... my bigger concern here is just making sure you’re happy. You keep saying work like it’s supposed to distract from the fact a lot of this is clearly not about work, sweetheart, and that worries me.”

  “I don’t see why it should.”

  “Because I’m not sure if you’re trying to deflect the rest of us from whatever is happening, or yourself.”

  Yeah, her father pulled no punches.

  “I’m not trying to distract from anything,” she said, although she couldn’t say it was entirely true. That was another thing for a different day that wasn’t today. “I’m just ... letting things happen, you know?”

  “You understand who he is, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “No, Cella,” Lucian said, his tone softening a bit, “I mean, who he really is. He is the oldest son of the only Cosa Nostra boss to have survived his reign in Canada. His five brothers? Two of them remained in the family—another went to the Chicago family, and another works for an outside organization. Marcus, though? He’s followed right after his father. And knowing what I do about your feelings regarding this life and the mafia, I have to wonder if you really understand what you’re doing or if you’re just sticking your head in the sand.”

  “Daddy—”

  “I only care that you’re happy. And the rest of that all goes back to being happy at the end of the day with the choices you have made.”

  “I am happy. I’m trying to stay that way. The rest isn’t really important right now, is it?”

  Or maybe it was just like her father had said, and she was purposely choosing to ignore it. Cella wasn’t sure, and right now didn’t seem like the time to sit down and figure it all out. Not when she was on her way to Toronto to see Marcus, spend the weekend with him, and if the truth was told, very little of it would be spent doing work.

  “I know why you’re worried,” she said before her father could say anything more, “but right now I’m just trying to figure out what I even want here.”

  “He is not immune because he’s a made man, Cella.”

  “What?”

  “From being hurt—getting his heart broken. Just because he’s a made man doesn’t mean he doesn’t have feelings here. So, while you figure out what you want, please remember that there are more people than just you in the equation. If you’re being selfish for the first time in your life, then that’s okay ... but self-seeking doesn’t always have to mean harmful to those around you.”

  Cella let out a slow breath. “Okay.”

  “Just okay?”

  “I’ll keep it in mind, Daddy.”

  “And look out for your heart, too. It’s taken enough of a beating ... it’s time to take care of it, now.”

  • • •

  The most relaxed Cella had ever remembered seeing Marcus was when he pulled open the door of a three-level home tucked away in a gated suburb just outside of Toronto’s city limits. In a pair of gray sweatpants and a white T-shirt that he’d rolled up the sleeves a bit on his shoulders, it was like meeting a whole other man.

  Gone was the three-piece suit. His hair had been mussed into a sexy disarray. Everything about him screamed laid-back and easy.

  “Working out?” she asked him.

  Marcus winked her way before dropping down to his knees to greet her daughter standing in front of her on the porch. “Hey, you.”

  Tiffany managed a tired smile. “That was a very long drive.”

  “I bet. Heard your ma picked you up at your grandparents and then drove here, right?”

  “Mmhmm. Like six hours longer.”

  Cella laughed.

  “Should really start flying instead of driving,” Marcus told her girl.

  As though Tiffany made the choice.

  “Should tell my ma that,” the girl returned.

  Marcus nodded, running his tongue along his teeth and sucking in air at the same time like he was considering that statement. “You know what, maybe I’ll just buy the tickets and send them over, huh?”

  “That won’t be needed,” Cella spoke up.

  The damn man—looking entirely too sexy and tempting where he kneeled—glanced up at her with a grin that told her tonight would be very fun for the two of them. Or maybe it was that glint in his eye when his gaze took her in, slowly drifting down her body and lingering in all the right spots before his attention went back to Tiffany.

  Yep.

  Definitely missed him.

  “Well,” Marcus said to Tiffany, “how does some popcorn and a movie sound? I think it’ll help you fall asleep, and then tomorrow you’ll be ready for all the stuff we’re gonna do this weekend, oui?”

  “What movie?”

  “It’s on the TV, you just have to press play on the remote to get it started. The Princess and the—”

  “Yes.” Tiffany didn’t even wait for Marcus to finish before she pushed past him to go inside the house. He laughed as he stood. Cella had a good mind to correct her daughter, but the girl was already shouting, “Thanks for remembering, Marcus!”

  Cella’s confused expression wasn’t lost on Marcus because he turned to her with a shrug, explaining, “That first time I talked with her on the phone—”

  “At the hotel?”

  “Yeah ... she told me all her favorite things. The movie was one of those.”

  And he remembered.

  Just because, apparently.

  She decided to go for a change in topic. “I thought you stayed at a place in the city?”

  “Most of the time,” he replied, “but this is my private residence that a lot of people don’t know about except family, and I’m trying to lay low for a bit.”

  Cella wasn’t sure if she liked the sound of that. “Why?”

  “Just let me worry about those details.”

  What did that mean?

  Marcus flashed her with a confident smile as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of those loose-fitting sweatpants, and stepped to the side a bit as if to let her into his house. “So, you coming in, too, or are you going to keep standing there like you’re not sure if I might bite you?”

  Cella gave him a look. “You don’t bite.”

  He winked. “Not unless you ask nicely, anyway.”

  Hell.

  There went her panties. Just like the rest of her was gone, too. All because of this wickedly attractive man, and the draw he seemed to have on her.

  “You’re dangerous for my heart,” she told him before stepping past him into the house.


  Marcus followed behind, and when she peeked over her shoulder, she found him watching her with an intensity that had her fine hair standing on end for all the right reasons. “And?”

  He said that as though it wasn’t a problem.

  Damn.

  Maybe it wasn’t.

  • • •

  “Did you mean what you said earlier?”

  Cella dragged in a quick breath, because the second she’d closed her now sleeping child’s bedroom door, Marcus murmured those words against the back of her neck as he stepped in behind her. Her fingers tightened around the knob, a thrill running through her because oh, yes, every single part of her body hadn’t forgotten what this gorgeous man could do to it.

  “How do you know she’s asleep in there?”

  “Because you don’t seem like the type of mother who would leave her child to fall asleep in a new place when she seemed nervous about it not an hour ago after you told her it was time for bed.”

  Jesus.

  He’d noticed that?

  Tiffany tried to hide it, clearly not wanting to make Marcus think she didn’t like his house or even him, but Cella knew her child better than anyone. So, without saying a thing to him about it, she promised her girl that he wouldn’t feel badly, but they didn’t have to mention it, and she would stay with her until Tiff fell asleep.

  Kids were all about compromise.

  It worked.

  As quickly as those thoughts of her daughter drifted through her mind, they were just as fast about flying away with his next touch.

  Marcus pressed a soft, hot kiss to the back of her neck, just below her hairline where she’d pulled the strands up into a messy chignon. The comfortable dress blouse and thin leggings she’d worn to drive in leaving nothing but the thick line of his erection pushing into her backside while his fingers flexed at her waist.

  Cella had been tired.

  Eight hours plus of driving?

  Yeah, she was done for the day.

  But not now.

  Now she was wide awake.

  “Okay, so she is sleeping in there,” Cella said quietly, “but we should move before you do something that wakes her back up. Nothing like a kid to cock block—”