Forever Lies: A Mafia Romance (The Five Families Book 1)

by Jill Ramsower

  “Ugh, I’ve still got one more final to go,” she groaned.

  “You excited to be done?”

  “Yes and no—when I’m done with school, I have to move back home for a few weeks until my new apartment is ready.”

  “Can’t say I envy you.”

  “Yeah, and if that isn’t bad enough, I have to suffer through my graduation party. I keep telling Mom I don’t need a party.”

  “Good luck with that,” I laughed in response, knowing Mom would never cancel at this rate. “How are the job prospects going?”

  She paused with indecision. “Actually, I got a job in a small gallery on the lower east side.”

  “Sof, that’s great news! Have you told Mom and Dad?”

  “No, although, I suppose I’ll have to at some point,” she grumbled.

  “Why don’t you want to tell them?”

  “I just don’t see a reason for them to know every aspect of my life.”

  “You and Maria are so freaking secretive.”

  “Hold up—don’t go comparing me to Maria. We are nothing alike—it’s not even apples and oranges. She and I are like apples and bicycles.”

  It seems I’d struck a chord. Sofia was almost always even-keel, but I’d clearly ruffled her feathers. “Okay, my bad. Maria definitely takes secrecy to a whole other level—I didn’t mean to offend.”

  I heard a sigh drift over the line. “Sorry, I’m just stressed and exhausted.”

  “No problem—we’re all just doing the best we can. I suppose I can relate a little. I haven’t told Mom and Dad, but I met someone,” I offered quietly, not wanting anyone in the office to overhear.

  “Oh, yeah? Tell me about him!”

  “There’s nothing to tell, yet—I just started dating him.”

  “But?” she prompted with the word I’d left unspoken, too scared to admit the intensity of my feelings.

  “But there’s something about him; he’s not like the other guys I’ve dated.” I was trying to share with my sister, but there was only so far I was willing to open up. There was something mysterious and intriguing about Luca that I wasn’t ready to share with anyone else.

  “You going to bring him to dinner on Sunday?” she asked coyly.

  “Hell no! Are you crazy?”

  “Come on, Lessi, that would take the spotlight off me,” she pouted playfully.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it, little sis. That spotlight is all yours.”

  “Fine, be that way,” she pouted.

  “I will, thanks. You get back to studying. I’ll see you on Sunday,” I said the last part in a sing-song voice.

  “You better. I don’t want to face the inquisition alone,” she muttered.

  “Never. I shall be your faithful protector.”

  Sofia giggled. “Love you, Lessi.”

  “Love you, too,” I returned warmly before hanging up, a smile plastered on my face as I dove back into work.

  An hour later, I made my way downstairs to get lunch and run a couple of errands. My eyes were immediately drawn to Luca where he stood talking on his phone. The moment his eyes landed on mine, he ended his call and began stalking my way, not taking his eyes from me.

  I’d say he moved with a predator’s grace, but that wouldn’t be accurate. He didn’t just move like a predator—he was a predator. The question was, just how ruthless were his instincts? Did he merely enjoy the hunt, or was he one who liked to toy with his prey?

  Luca stepped close, only speaking when we were near enough not to be overheard. “If I didn’t already have work obligations, I’d insist you join me for lunch.” His words spoken softly in his deep, rasping voice felt like an intimate caress in the crowded room.

  “That’s okay,” I offered, feeling my cheeks heat. “I have some errands to run anyway.”

  “I want you to spend the afternoon with me tomorrow.”

  “Okay.” My reply was instant. I gave no thought to any other obligations I might have had for my Saturday. That’s what the man did to me—he intoxicated me with his presence until I thought of nothing else but him.

  His lips curled in a knowing grin. “Let me sort some things, and I’ll be in touch.” He leaned down and placed one of his tender kisses on my temple, and I melted onto the floor of the lobby as I watched his retreating form exit the building.

  Scraping myself off the marble tiles, I followed in his wake toward the busy New York street when I heard my name hollered behind me. I looked back for the source and was surprised to see a man I’d been friends with at school. Jackson Byrne had been a fellow business student at NYU, and we’d had some shared friends who hung out occasionally. Despite a mutual attraction between us, we’d never dated. The timing had never been quite right—either I was in a relationship when he was interested or the other way around.

  It occurred to me Luca would never have allowed something so silly as a boyfriend to come between him and a woman he wanted. In that regard, the two men were worlds apart. However, Jackson bore his own brand of devilish, Irish charm and rugged good looks. Deep dimples were the perfect accent to his affable nature, and his curling dark hair and mocha eyes were warm and inviting. We hadn’t stayed in touch since graduating more than a year ago, and I was pleased to run into him.

  “Jackson! What a pleasant surprise. How have you been?” I asked, giving him a hug when he caught up with me.

  “I’m really well. And you?”

  “I’m doing great. It’s been ages since I’ve seen you. Are you working in the building now?”

  “No, I work for Investors Bank in the commercial department and was meeting with a client. I take it you’re still working at Triton with your father?”

  “Yes, climbing my way up the ranks.”

  “I still can’t believe your dad didn’t put you straight into upper management.”

  “That’s not the way he works, and it’s not that bad. I’ve learned so much in just a year.”

  He smiled at me, but wariness crept into his eyes before they dropped to his hands.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked warily.

  Returning his gaze to me, his features hardened with resolve. “I know it’s not any of my business, but I saw you earlier with that man in the lobby. How well do you know him?”

  His question caught me off guard, and I stumbled for words. “I … we went to dinner last night—that’s about it.”

  “He’s not a good man, Alessia. You should stay away from him.” Jackson’s voice was sharper, his eyes harder, than I could ever recall seeing the handsome playboy.

  “What do you mean?” My stomach churned with unease.

  His lips pursed, and he exhaled a frustrated sigh. “I can’t really explain, but I’ve heard things about him. Bad things. I’d hate for you to get hurt.”

  Heard things? What did that mean? “You can’t give me any more than that?”

  Lips pressed tightly together, he shook his head.

  “Alright, thank you for the warning.”

  His eyes softened. “I really have missed seeing you. We should grab dinner and catch up sometime. Is your number still the same?”

  “Yeah, that sounds nice.” I forced a smile, pushing aside my worry.

  Jackson gave me one more hug before disappearing down the busy sidewalk while I was momentarily rooted to the spot. What had he meant with his cryptic warning? Was he simply trying to tell me Luca was a player, or had there been a more nefarious meaning behind his words? Then again, maybe Jackson finally wanted to date me and was trying to push away the competition.

  Without a more concrete explanation, it was hard to put much weight into his words. I wasn’t about to ignore him, but I didn’t think a vague warning was sufficient to act on. I would tuck away the cautionary words to revisit later if needed.

  Chapter 8

  Alessia

  Luca texted that evening, telling me he would pick me up at three the next afternoon. He also instructed me to dress casually and bring a sweater but refused to tell
me where we were going. I laid awake that night for ages, wondering where we would go, and what Luca would look like in casual clothes. I hadn’t seen what was under the suit, but his sculpted physique suggested he would look mouthwatering in anything he wore.

  Despite a short night of sleep, I woke easily, excitement thrumming in my veins the moment my eyes opened. Wanting to release some of that pent-up energy, I went to the gym inside my apartment building and ran until my muscles were thoroughly fatigued. I tried to keep a regular exercise regimen, but lately, I’d been too busy to do anything more than get a run in whenever the chance presented itself.

  After the run, I wobbled down the block in my sweat-soaked gear to the corner coffee shop and loaded up on caffeine. No, it didn’t make sense to wear myself out just to stock up on caffeine, but we can’t all make sense all the time. Sometimes, we just have to do what feels right, and that first sip of creamer-rich coffee tasted all kinds of right.

  On my way back to my building, the sensation of being watched crept into my awareness, just as it had a few days earlier. Rather than trying to be discrete, I stopped mid-step and spun around, searching the street behind me. It was early on a Saturday morning, and while the area was far from empty, it was less crowded than it would be later that day. Not a single person looked suspicious or out of place. No one startled at my abrupt about-face or even noticed me, for that matter. I decided to march my crazy ass back home and attempt to chase away my newfound case of paranoia with a shower and some breakfast. The coffee might not help matters, but there was no way I was giving that up.

  It was just after ten in the morning when I arrived back home, still hours and hours away from my date, with nothing to do but get myself ready. I jumped in the shower, ridding my body of all unnecessary hair, scrubbing myself within an inch of my life. Once I was fully buffed, shaved, shampooed, and conditioned, I started the chore of deciding what to wear.

  Dress casually.

  Any woman would know that was a joke—there were infinite degrees of casual in a woman’s wardrobe. A slight heel on a sandal or the thickness of the straps on a blouse could drastically affect the feel of an outfit. Casual dress to ride the New York Circle Line ferry would be far different than the casual dress for a Broadway matinee.

  I tried on dozens of outfits before deciding on mint skinny jeans with a sleeveless floral top and ivory cardigan. Using the curling wand, I gave my long hair gentle waves, then applied a full face of barely-there makeup. To my utter dismay, it was only one o’clock when I applied the last strokes of mascara. I had drawn out my routine as long as humanly possible and still had two hours until Luca would arrive.

  The clock ticked by agonizingly slowly. By the time two forty-five rolled around, I had watched an hour of Naked and Afraid, organized my kitchen junk drawer, and cleaned the lint out of my dryer. When the text came through from Luca saying he was waiting downstairs, relief that the wait was over helped balance out my nerves—until I walked outside and saw Luca leaning against the sleek lines of his black Audie R8.

  I’d been right. Luca in a suit was a sight to behold, but Luca in jeans blew a circuit in my brain. My thoughts dissipated in a puff of smoke before a surge of nerves threatened to overwhelm me. Luca, on the other hand, was unruffled as always in a casual button-down shirt rolled up to his elbows, his jean-clad legs crossed at the ankles. He was every girl’s spank-bank goldmine. Images of him standing there like a ruthless god could get me through a year-long dry spell.

  “Hey,” I greeted breathlessly, overwhelmed by his beauty.

  “Hey yourself, gorgeous.” He pushed away from the car with a smirk, placing a soft kiss on my cheek, then opened the passenger door for me.

  I glanced around the interior of the car, appreciating its luxury touches while Luca walked to the driver’s side. He was surprisingly graceful, folding his large frame into the compact sports car.

  “Now will you tell me where we’re going?” I asked playfully as he started the car and looked for oncoming traffic.

  He grinned without taking his eyes from the road. “We’re going to the beach.”

  “Coney Island?” I asked excitedly. “That’s way more romantic than I pegged you for.”

  “Are you saying I can’t be romantic?”

  “I don’t see you as a flowers and poetry kind of guy, no.”

  “Good,” he huffed, unable to hide his smirk. “Because I’m not.”

  “I haven’t been to Coney Island in ages, but I loved it when I was growing up.”

  “Me too,” he mused. “Did you grow up in the city?”

  “Staten Island, so close enough. You?”

  “Hoboken.”

  “New Jersey, but still practically in the city,” I pointed out more to myself than for his benefit. “Did you like growing up there?”

  He glanced over, a hint of darkness clouding his eyes. “I didn’t have the childhood you did. We didn’t have much with my father gone, so I spent a lot of time on the streets.”

  Hoping he didn’t think I was prying, I continued to ask questions, trying to sate my unending curiosity. “How did you end up where you are now?” The odds weren’t great for a kid who started out on the streets to become a successful banker.

  He came to a stop at a light and gave me a long, hard look that sent a shiver down my spine. “After my mother died, I was adopted into a new family. They instilled a work ethic and taught me how to survive.”

  Caving to the pressure of his piercing gaze, I dropped my eyes to where his hand rested on the gearshift. His knuckles bore the telltale remnants of scars. How had I not noticed before? My chest ached as I wondered what Luca had gone through during those years on the streets. My hand reached of its own accord to ghost my fingertips along the mutilated remnants of his past. The car lurched forward when the light turned green, snapping me out of the morose spell I’d fallen under. I quickly pulled my hand back into my lap and turned my gaze out the window.

  “You know,” I said thoughtfully. “I realized this morning that I don’t even know your last name.”

  The lines of his jaw softened with the change in subject. “Romano.”

  Luca Romano.

  It suited him. The name commanded respect without being flashy or overbearing.

  “Aren’t you going to ask mine?” I prodded.

  “Alessia Genovese—I came to your office, remember?”

  “You’re always one step ahead, aren’t you?” I sighed, dropping my head back on the headrest. “I feel like you know everything about me already, and I hardly know you at all.”

  “I like to be on my game, yes, but there’s still plenty I don’t know about you.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like whether you scream when you come,” Luca offered in a lust-filled rumble.

  That was unexpected. His comment had rendered me speechless, but my body had reacted instantly—nipples pebbling, my heart thrumming in my chest.

  “And if I don’t?” I asked softly.

  “Honey, what I’ve got planned for you, you won’t have a choice.” His eyes cut to mine, his lips pulling back in a wicked grin.

  Turns out, he did make me scream … by forcing me on the Cyclone rollercoaster.

  Once we got to the boardwalk, we rode a dozen different rides, which all looked far more dangerous than I remembered. The Ferris wheel was the only one he didn’t have to drag me onto. It probably wasn’t any safer since it looked far older than the others, but the slow rotation gave the illusion of safety, and I’d really wanted to see the area from up above.

  The sun had begun to close in on the horizon, not quite setting but low enough to cast long shadows across the landscape. “The city is beautiful from up here,” I absently noted as we took our turn paused at the top of the wheel.

  Luca draped his arm behind me and pulled me in close against his hard body. “I love this city—can’t imagine living anywhere else.”

  “I think when you’re from New York, it becomes a part of yo
u. The diversity and opportunities, anything you could ever want is right here—why would anyone want to leave?” When I stopped speaking, I realized I could feel the weight of his stare.

  Luca’s fathomless gaze searched my face, for what, I was unsure. He brought his hand from my shoulder up to the back of my head, weaving his fingers into my hair, and pulled me in for a tender, sensual kiss. As the car slowly rocked, we tasted each other in an achingly sweet kiss. Lust began to stir deep in my belly but was doused when the ride jerked back into motion, startling us away from one another and sending me into a fit of giggles.

  Luca shook his head playfully. “Reminds me of getting caught making out in my bedroom as a kid.”

  “You fooled around in your house when your mom was home?” I couldn’t even comprehend doing that.

  “I did a lot more than that,” he said with a fiendish grin. “I was hell on wheels. My poor ma never had a chance.”

  “What did she do when she caught you?” I was pretty sure my dad would have locked me in a basement until I was fifty.

  “She’d chase off the girl, then slap me upside the head while she cursed me out in Italian. She would spit fire once she got going; it was impressive, really.”

  “Do you know Italian?” I asked in surprise.

  “Nah. My dad didn’t speak it, so ma didn’t use it much—she was more Italian than him. Your family speak it?”

  “No, my mom’s mom did; she lived with us for a while when I was young. I wish I could—it’s a beautiful language. I’ve thought about buying software or taking a class but haven’t ever taken the time.”

  “Think I’d rather just go spend a month or so in Italy,” he mused, gazing off toward the beach.

  “That sounds great in theory, but I couldn’t just leave for a month.”

  “Why not? You taking care of an elderly relative or have kids in school or something?”

  “No.”

  “Life is short, Alessia. You should live it to the fullest. You are the only one who dictates the parameters of your world. If you say you can’t do something, then you can’t, but if you believe you can, you’ll find a way. You want to go to Italy, spend a summer, find a way to make it happen.”