In the Shadows (Barresi Book 2)

by Lux Miller

  He sighs heavily and slides his hands to my lower back, pressing down gently until I’m laying flat on the bed. I stiffen and glance over my shoulder briefly, afraid of what I’m going to see on his face. Never in a million years would I have been prepared to see what I do - tears. He’s not sobbing like a schoolgirl, but there is definitely wetness carving a path down his chiseled features.

  All the air in my chest whooshes out in a startled exhale. I roll over on the bed, watching him carefully like he’s going to explode on me at any moment. Because how dare I question the authority of Luca Barresi. How dare I not bend to his commands. How dare I not milk his dick without questioning him. How dare I—

  My thoughts are cut off abruptly by his voice and the two words that tumble out of his unfairly perfect mouth render me speechless. “You’re right.”

  Complete and utter shock must flicker across my face, because he sits down on the bed beside me, bringing one hand up to the side of my face. I hate that I flinch when he touches me, but he hasn’t exactly been pouring on the charm lately and though he’s never hit me, in my experience, when a man brings his hand to your face, that’s what he’s going to do. Put you in your place when you step out of line. And considering I just took a ninety degree turn to ‘Bitchville,” it wouldn’t surprise me if Luca had more than one lesson to teach me.

  He brushes his fingertips along the side of my face and I wince as the bandage now covering his hand scrapes against my cheek. My eyes drift shut, and I bite down on my bottom lip to stifle the surprised moan that threatens to escape. “Emily, I’m sorry…”

  The words don’t quite register in my head as my eyes flutter open. For the first time since we watched his father die, his eyes appear calm. It’s startling, but I’m frozen in place as he caresses my cheek for what feels like the first time. Great, now I feel like crap for being such a bitch. “What? Luca, I…”

  My words die on my lips as his mouth claims mine, timidly at first, like he’s afraid I’ll slap him. When I don’t jerk away or smack him, he sighs and slides his tongue along my bottom lip. I shiver and throw my arms around his neck, pulling him down on top of me. My fingers wind through his thick, tousled hair that hangs in waves when it isn’t styled with a handful of gel. He grunts as he topples over onto me, bracing himself on his forearms on either side of my head as he pulls away. He’s close enough that I can feel his breath on my moistened lips, but too far away to continue the intimate contact.

  I sigh as he rests his forehead against mine. “Emily, I’m such an asshole…”

  I nod because he isn’t wrong. But it isn’t completely his fault we fell into this pattern of sabotage. Complacency equals acceptance and I should have spoken up sooner. I drag my hand along his strong jaw and brush my fingertips up along his cheekbones. He tenses and I know he thinks I’m going to slap him, but I don’t. Even a street rat like me was taught not to kick someone when they’re down.

  And truth be told, Luca’s been five seconds from self-destruct since they buried his father. Using me to sate his pent up frustrations through feral sex probably wasn’t the best way to deal with his emotions, but I didn’t exactly stop him. One could assume that my agreement to do it in the first place made it acceptable.

  The truth is, both of us are broken. All the glue in the world won’t fix us, but it doesn’t mean we aren’t worth saving. It took falling into Luca Barresi’s bed to make me understand this. Now, if only I could teach him the same. Finally, I open my eyes and whisper, “I won’t argue with you there, but I knew what you were when I fell in love with you and I still allowed myself to fall.”

  Luca grunts when I agree with him, but there’s no point in blowing smoke up his ass. I love the man, but if we’re ever going to truly work, we have to accept each other’s flaws. “Don’t worry, Luca… I’m not immune to the truth bomb train. I know I can be a total bitch, but I’ve been used enough in my life that I don’t need my boyfriend to do it too.”

  He shakes his head, looking stricken. “I know. I shouldn’t… but God, the sex with you is so incredible that it… it just lets me be numb to all the other shit. My father was a smart and careful man, but fuck he left me a mess to clean up.”

  I swallow hard as I slide my hand slowly down his body and edge them into his jeans, untucking his shirt slowly. “Then numb yourself to the pain…”

  He tenses, shaking his head as he reaches down to stop my hands. “Emily, I can’t keep mindlessly fucking you every time something goes wrong in my life. I can’t trade what we have for peace of mind, because losing you will destroy me.”

  I nod, wrenching my hands free of his and unbuttoning his shirt slowly one button at a time. I push his shirt open and brush my hands over his muscled stomach and gingerly drag my fingertips over his healing wound. It’s just an angry pink scar now, but it traverses his midsection, marring up his otherwise perfect skin.

  I let my fingers trace along the tendrils of his tattoos and whisper, “I’m not going anywhere, Luca… I’ve watched you murder a man, I’ve watched Dante murder your father…” He flinches at the mention of his father’s death, but keeps his gaze on me as I push his shirt off his shoulders and drag my fingertips down along the muscles of his back.

  “I’ve seen you do horrible things, unforgivable things. But I’ve also seen you protect the innocent. Free them from the demons that control them. The men you have sent to their reckoning in the process were not saints, Luca. Every man has his sins, and it was time they faced theirs. One day, you will atone for yours...”

  As my fingertips reach his waistband, I glide them along his stomach until they settle on the button of his jeans. I pop it loose easily and lower his zipper, sliding my hands along his waist until they rest on his back. I smirk as I slide my hands into both his jeans and his snug boxer briefs at the same time. I push my hand down over his toned ass and peck his lips softly as he groans.

  I smile softly and continue, “We all will, for no man on this Earth is perfect. But I know that we… you and I… we’re molded from the same clay. This life we lead isn’t black and white… it’s muddled and grey…”

  As I push his jeans and underwear down to his thighs, he shifts over me, undoubtedly kicking them off into the floor. “But you bring color into my life that I didn’t know could exist. You are the fireflies in my night that chase away the bad guys.”

  Luca chuckles and pecks my lips softly as he nudges my legs open, settling between them with his strong hips grazing along my inner thighs. He lowers his voice to a whisper and replies, “I am the bad guy... I’m the thing that goes bump in the night. Emily, I’m the monster that hides in the shadows, waiting to pounce on innocent souls like yours…”

  I bury both of my hands into his hair and tug his face to mine, kissing him hungrily like I’ve been starved. Murmuring against his lips, I sigh, “I’m not afraid of the darkness…”

  He groans and rocks his hips into mine. I gasp into his mouth as he slides inside of me, igniting a fire deep inside that burns hotter every moment he pushes deeper. I tear my lips away from his and murmur into his ear as I wrap my legs around his waist, “But no more lies. No more secrets.”

  I grab one of his hands and place it on my chest, in between my breasts, flattening his bandaged hand against my chest as my heart thunders underneath. He shudders, his eyes drifting shut. “It beats for you, Luca, but if you want my heart, you have to give me your trust.”

  Luca tenses as he rolls his hips into me. He nods and jerks his hand away. I open my eyes in surprise as he brings his hand up to his mouth and he rips the bandage off with his teeth. He then brushes his palm over my lips. I kiss the torn skin, wincing as I realize how deep and wide the cut is. “What is this, Luca?”

  Luca sighs as he bites down on his bottom lip. The look in his eyes is conflicted. He’s warring with his inner self. He snaps his eyes shut and a shiver envelops his entire body. “It’s my oath to the family… to serve and protect… as I fulfill my father’s final wish…I am
now the acting Boss of the Barresi crime family.”

  I gasp as my heart leaps. I’m terrified for what this means for us, but I know that what he just told me was likely one of his most closely guarded secrets. Both of my hands fly to my mouth as my eyes widen, “Luca…”

  He shakes his head, bringing his forehead down to mine again as he threads his hands into mine. He pushes our hands up over my head, pinning them to the mattress as he sets a gentle, steady rhythm of thrusting inside me. “Don’t. No more talking. Let our bodies say what we need to say. Just make love to me.”

  I watch his languid movements as his body moves in time with mine, his muscles bunching and relaxing with each gentle thrust. His eyes feast on me like he’s a starved man. My head is spinning and my entire body is burning as emotion floods into me. It’s almost more than I can handle as my mind begins to short-circuit. He leans down over me and kisses along my collarbone and up to my neck, nibbling on my ear as he grunts with his building release.

  I know that he’s close, so I slide my hands onto his back and gently drag my fingernails down his skin, murmuring, “Let go of everything. Give it all to me. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. Ti amo Luca...”

  TWELVE

  As I lower the delicately detailed mask over my face, I shudder at the thought that for the first time in my life, I will be among New Orleans royalty for the biggest party in the city. New Orleans starts celebrating Mardi Gras practically the moment Epiphany has passed. Leave it to the staunch Catholics to put on a show of complete debauchery in the name of religious celebration.

  Here in the Sin City of the South, every night leading up to Ash Wednesday is more raunchy than the last, and the party doesn’t stop for over a month. Parades roll through the day and into the night, and elaborate balls take over the reins from the witching hour to dawn. Alcohol and love flow freely, and the war cry is “Throw me Something, Mister!”

  Massive floats in a rainbow of electric and neon shades roll through the streets while masked revelers that belong to Krewes throw handfuls of trinkets to the crowds that gather to watch the parade. Each Krewe is unique and membership is exclusive, but the entire city is invited to bear witness to their party. All kinds of things can be tossed off of floats including coins bearing the name of the parading Krewe, snacks, stuffed animals, and more. The most common and the most coveted prize is beads.

  All lengths, colors, and, ahem, shapes appear during the month of festivities, and the citizens of the city wear them with pride. Since we first arrived in the Sin City of the South, I would watch from the wings as every parade rolled past the dingy apartment in the French Quarter that my father and I called home. Once the crowds had dispersed, I would sneak outside and collect discarded strands of beads from the low hanging trees.

  Later, once the dust had settled and I belonged to Andre, I would work the parades from our home base in Piacere. I’d slip unnoticed through the drunken revelry of Bourbon Street up to Saint Charles Street and blend in with the crowds. Then I’d slip from person to person, picking the pockets of the idiot tourists who would carry cash in their pockets to pay street vendors.

  Shaking away the memories, I remind myself that this year will be different. So many things have changed in my life. For one, I’m not going to be wearing baggy jeans and a hoodie. Royce has outdone himself yet again and dressed me in the most unique dress I’ve ever seen, much less worn. It’s definitely a one-off original by the fashion guru that’s at my beck and call.

  Exquisite crepe fabric in the softest cream-colored silk hugs my body in a form fitting sheath that leave little to the imagination. Even though my curves are completely concealed beneath the delicate design that includes white ostrich feathers along the off-the shoulder neckline and shin-length hem, I feel incredibly exposed.

  Across the bodice and halfway down one side, delicate flowers and scrollwork are embroidered in gold-colored thread. Who are we kidding? This is Royce we’re talking about. He doesn’t do halfway. The thread’s probably made from real gold. Maybe I should start calling him Rumplestiltskin? He probably spun the thread himself.

  I’ve stopped asking how much the creations he dresses me in cost. He wouldn’t tell me anyway. I’m sure that’s a direct order from Luca. The jewelry he’s draped on my body is worth at least a thousand dollars by itself. Dangling gold feathers hang from my ears and an illusion necklace of diamonds wraps around my neck.

  The ostrich feathers and gold sequins of my handmade mask obscure most of my face, giving me a sense of anonymity that I haven’t enjoyed in months. I know that I won’t escape the scrutiny of the socialites who will no doubt whisper about me the moment we arrive at the ball. On Luca’s arm, my identity won’t be secret for long. For some reason, Royce enjoys evoking jealousy in the New Orleans upper crust. He says he has to remind them that they can be upstaged by anyone with a high-limit credit card.

  Since becoming Luca’s girlfriend, privacy is a thing of the past. Every time I appear on his arm, the gossip begins almost instantly. Dirty looks and whispers are the norm when Luca appears at charity galas and balls. And we’re splashed across the front page the next day. Everyone is enamored with the brooding Italian man with the strange grey eyes.

  How the paparazzi knows nothing of Luca’s underground life, I’ll never know. The glitzy lifestyle pieces that run multiple times a month have never once mentioned his mob ties. Maybe it’s an unspoken rule that anyone who dares to paint him in a negative light will earn his ire.

  Maybe the wealthy citizens of the city turn a blind eye to his underground dealings because he’s keeping the petty criminals in check? Those with money tend to want to keep it, and Luca’s version of policing New Orleans’ sketchy characters tends to have better outcomes where money is involved.

  Whatever the reasons, his public persona and his private life are miles apart. Both are pieces of the whole, but they’re also masks that he wears to hide behind. Neither tells the whole story, though both command a room the moment the he walks into it. Whether because of fear or fancy, Luca walks the streets of New Orleans as a King, and every King has enemies.

  I understand why he hides behind false faces, but my favorite face isn’t the mafia kingpin or the playboy prince. My favorite face is the man who stands across the room from me right now with his mouth gaping open as he sees my attire for the Mardi Gras parade and ball tonight.

  He’s half-dressed himself, having had to call Royce over to make last-minute alterations to the shoulder of his jacket. Right now, he’s wearing black suit trousers and a gold-toned silk button down shirt that’s still hanging open as he adjusts his sleeves. But his eyes aren’t on his shirt, hands, buttons or anything else at the moment. His eyes are locked on me as he stops suddenly and his gaze darkens.

  Swallowing slightly, I clear my throat and walk over to him barefoot, trying to pretend that he isn’t undressing me with his eyes. I lean up on my tiptoes and brush my lips over his cheek, scrunching my nose when his beard tickles it. “You missed a couple buttons,” I muse as I take a step back from him and start to straighten his shirt so I can button it for him.

  He stands motionless in front of me as I button the bottom two. I cut my eyes up at him from behind my mask, then over his shoulder as I hear Royce’s distinct giggling laugh behind him. “He’s been struck stupid by the very sight of you. Goodie! Stick a fork in me as my job here is done. Here’s his jacket, honey. ”

  I chuckle softly as Royce lays Luca’s jacket on the edge of the bed and turns on his heel to leave. Before he waltzes out of the room, he steps behind Luca and admonishes him as he pats his hand against Luca’s ass, “Stand up straight, Barresi. That shirt will not look professional if it’s wrinkled.”

  Luca rolls his eyes, but does as he’s told. I brush my hand over the delicate silk and cut my eyes to Royce, “Is this gold?”

  Royce’s face twists into a sardonic grin as he shrugs his shoulders. “Beautiful, you know I don’t tell my secrets, but it sure isn’t silver.
And Royce doesn’t deal with fakeries…”

  He steps around Luca and brushes his hand over my waist, his slender fingers brushing over the gold embroidery along my hip. Then he drops a bombshell that snaps Luca out of his daze. “Oh girl… if he thinks he likes the dress, wait until he sees the gold that’s under it.” He claps and steps out into the hallway and Luca groans.

  I smile and finish buttoning Luca’s shirt. “Where’s your tie? We’re going to be late if we don’t get you dressed.”

  Luca’s eyes wander down my body and back up to my face. His hand follows behind, pausing over where Royce touched my hip. I roll my eyes and gently pull the mask off, being careful not to disturb my hair where Royce has sold another piece of his soul to the devil and managed to tame my mane into soft, elegant curls that brush my shoulders.

  Luca clears his throat and asks, “Are you wearing a gold chain under your dress?”

  I pat his shoulders and walk over to the bed where I find his tie looped over the same hanger that his jacket is on. I pull it loose, and walk back over to Luca and quickly tie it on him. “You know anything’s possible when Royce dresses me. You can see it tonight if you promise to be a good boy.”