The Guzzi Legacy: Vol 1

by Bethany-Kris

  He didn’t need to answer the ringing phone in his pocket to know whatever that call was about, it would fuck up the balance he had found with Corrado and Ginevra. Sure, it was touch and go after the whole Clubhouse incident, but after a couple of weeks, they found a comfortable routine he liked.

  He didn’t want to fuck it up.

  “Are you going to answer that, or ...?”

  Alessio grunted under his breath. “I’d rather not.”

  “That’s the ringtone you use for Cree.”

  “And?”

  His sharp question drew in the gaze of several people inside the café, and even Ginevra who now waited closer to the cashier in line. Alessio and Corrado had opted to stand back to let the line weed itself out—she didn’t need them standing beside her twenty-four seven even if that’s what they both wanted to do more than anything.

  The phone rang again.

  Corrado sighed. “Stop ignoring him, Les.”

  “It’s not about ignoring him.”

  And it wasn’t. It would have little to do with Dare, or the fact Alessio still wasn’t calling them to keep him and Cree updated like he did.

  No, it wasn’t for that.

  The fucking Albania job.

  Which meant as soon as Alessio picked up the call, there would be a timer ticking down. The job had been years in the making, and he would have a tiny window of time after being given the okay to begin before he would have to get on a plane, and travel to a different country.

  Away from here.

  Away from them.

  After his last conversation with Cree, well, Alessio doubted the man would call just because. Cree wasn’t the type to push Alessio’s lines, and he’d certainly done that during their chat.

  So, it could only be for one thing.

  “If you don’t pick up the damn call,” Corrado warned when Alessio’s phone continued ringing in his pocket, “I will call Cree back myself.”

  Jesus.

  “Fine,” Alessio grumbled.

  He pulled the phone from his pocket, giving Corrado a look before turning his back to him and the rest of the café as he answered the call. He stepped over to the window, putting some distance between himself and Corrado, not to mention the others lingering in the café.

  “Les here,” he said into the speaker.

  “Nice of you to finally pick up my call,” Cree muttered.

  Alessio sighed. “I was busy.”

  “But were you?”

  “Listen, I picked up the call, Cree.”

  It was the best he could do right now.

  Anything else, and they asked too much.

  Alessio kept his eye on Ginevra who was now giving her order at the front of the line to the cashier. Her bright smile had his own growing, not to mention the way she kept glancing back to check on Corrado and Alessio.

  The woman ... was something else.

  And Corrado had been right.

  She fit them.

  “What did you need?” Alessio asked.

  Although, he had a good idea.

  It was just a matter of saying it, now.

  “The Albania job is a go,” Cree said.

  Alessio figured it would be pointless to ask, but he still had to try. “And we’re sure there’s no possibility of them allowing another member to do the hit?”

  “I’ve told you no.”

  Right, right.

  Alessio’s gaze drifted to Corrado who looked his way with a sly grin, pleased he’d gotten his lover to answer the call from Cree. It was too bad Corrado didn’t understand yet what Alessio picking up the call meant.

  He needed to be here.

  More than anything. He wanted to be here. They were still figuring this out, between them, and Ginevra. Yeah, shit was better ... but they were all still walking a very thin line with one another. He wanted to believe it wouldn’t take much for them to get to a better place, but right now ...

  Anything could happen.

  It was all in the air.

  “I just think it’s ridiculous they wouldn’t allow someone else to take it, if there’s no reason why not,” Alessio said under his breath.

  “You want to tell me what that mood is about, or no?”

  Alessio scrubbed a hand down his face and turned to stare out the window. Then, Corrado wouldn’t be able to see the displeasure on his face if he was still watching Alessio on the phone. “It’s nothing—me voicing my thoughts out loud.”

  “Right,” Cree murmured, “but I think it’s more.”

  “And we’re still not discussing my personal business. That hasn’t changed.”

  “Les, I get I crossed a line.”

  “So?”

  “Cut the shit.”

  Alessio pulled in a lungful of air, wishing it helped to settle his nerves, but it didn’t. Nothing helped with it anymore, it seemed. Not unless he was in bed with Corrado or Ginevra, because then, he only had to think about one thing, and none of this shit factored into that at all.

  Another reason to be here.

  “I want to take fewer jobs,” Alessio said.

  Cree made a soft noise. “Oh?”

  “I used work and keeping busy as a way to run from my issues, and I don’t want to do it anymore. So, I understand what I need to do to fix that.”

  “Take fewer jobs, stay home more.”

  “Exactly.”

  Something shuffled on the other end of the call before Cree replied, “There’s no reason you can’t do that, Les. And you always did well training the new prospects with the occasional job thrown in with the team. If you want to go back to that, you can.”

  “But not right now.”

  “No,” Cree agreed, “you have to do the Albania job. Within seven days, you need to be on a plane to contact the client within the proper time frame we previously agreed upon. I will send his details over, and you’ll have everything you need once you land in the country.”

  “Great.”

  Except it wasn’t great.

  Not at all.

  “Within seven days,” Cree repeated, “call me to confirm you’re on the way, all right?”

  “Yeah, sure. A week, I got it.”

  Without a goodbye, Alessio hung up the phone. Cree wouldn’t give a damn, really. He’d only slid the phone back into his pocket when Corrado saddled up to his side, arms folded over his broad chest. He spoke to Alessio as he continued watching Ginevra.

  “A week for what?”

  Alessio’s jaw clicked from how he clenched his teeth. “The Albania job—we were going to do it together, remember?”

  “I backed out because of the favor for Andino, yeah.”

  “Well, guess who doesn’t get to back out?”

  Corrado stiffened beside him, but replied, “It’s a job—what, a couple weeks at the most? You’ll be back soon.”

  “Some things are more important than The League.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And stop glaring,” Alessio added.

  Corrado glanced his way, raising a single brow. “Pardon you?”

  Smirking, Alessio nodded toward the front of the café where Ginevra chatted with the man behind the counter who now handed over her coffee, and donut. Alessio hadn’t missed how if Corrado’s glare could burn someone to the ground right where they stood, the man who had the nerve to talk to Ginevra would be a pile of fucking ashes.

  “You know what I’m talking about.”

  Corrado grinned. “Hmm.”

  “Do you do that for me, too?”

  “What?”

  “Glare at people who get too close.”

  Corrado didn’t reply.

  Alessio didn’t need him to.

  Yes, he did.

  Corrado was very good at hiding his possessiveness. At least, to the people he was possessive over. He didn’t have a problem with making people aware they stepped out of line.

  Not at all.

  “So, where to now?”

  Corrado and Alessio broke their starin
g contest to find Ginevra had left the counter, and the chatty man behind, to come stand in front with a smile that reached her bright eyes. Honestly, she was probably happy to be out of the penthouse again.

  “To get you a dress,” Corrado said.

  Ginevra sipped from the to-go cup of coffee. “I have dresses.”

  “No, a new dress.”

  “You have heard of reusing things, right?”

  Alessio scoffed. “You have high hopes, woman.”

  Corrado scowled. “I can spend my money however I want to.”

  “Yes, you can,” Alessio agreed, “but most people don’t spend money like you do.”

  “Why do I need a new dress, though?”

  “We have a club opening to go to in a couple of days,” Corrado explained, “and because I want to. Also, something for dinner tonight with my parents, too.”

  “I miss Cara,” Ginevra said absently.

  “That’s why we’re having dinner. And because she demanded it.”

  Alessio reached out and snuck a piece off her donut ... which ended up being a quarter. Well, she noticed.

  Ginevra gave him a look.

  He winked as he popped it into his mouth.

  “Are we shopping, or no?” Corrado asked.

  “Right after someone gets me another donut,” Ginevra replied, not looking away from Alessio. “Since they don’t know how to ask for their own.”

  Funny how she didn’t share food well.

  She shared them perfectly fine.

  Win some, lose some.

  “Well?” Ginevra asked him, looking entirely offended he dared to take a bite of her donut she now held out of his reach. “Because I’m not leaving until I get another.”

  Corrado chuckled. “You heard her.”

  Alessio groaned. “Fine.”

  17.

  Corrado

  “And,” the older woman who handled the patrons of the upscale, private boutique said, “we’re closed for the next two hours to make sure you find what you need, Ginevra.”

  Ginevra’s wide eyes turned on Corrado and Alessio. Although, just him because Alessio was busy leaning over the glass counter to pull an item out from behind it. Something that was a no-no, but he didn’t follow the rules. Or, how to act like he had any sense of decorum.

  “Les,” Corrado snapped, “leave it alone.”

  “But it’s perf—”

  “Would you like me to get that out for you, Mr. Sorrento?”

  Alessio came back up with a sly grin. “The blue choker, if you wouldn’t mind, yes.”

  The woman—Mandy—nodded. “I will do that for you.”

  She left Ginevra’s side, who was still wide-eyed and taking in the large and modernly decorated boutique with high class designer names hanging from every tag, to slip behind the counter. Bending down, she found the particular blue-gem choker that Alessio had been admiring through the glass, and then decided he needed to touch because why not?

  It was Les.

  Sliding it across the counter, Mandy shrugged. “Sapphires imported from India, designed in Russia—seven thousand for the choker. It’s not an accent piece, but a solitary. There is no matching designs, it’s better—”

  “On its own,” Alessio said, picking the choker up from the black velvet where it was displayed. “Add this to the bill, yeah?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “That’s too much,” Ginevra whispered at Corrado’s back.

  He chuckled, amused at how she lowered her voice so the other two wouldn’t overhear. She was trying her best not to become overwhelmed by the boutique, and the items inside, but she was still wide-eyed and stunned.

  He liked that look on her.

  “It’s a good price, actually,” Corrado returned, turning to face her. “And it’s going to hug your throat nicely.”

  Ginevra balked. “But—”

  “We should look for something blue to match.”

  “You’re ... impossible.”

  Corrado arched a brow. “I didn’t pick the jewelry, I’m just saying the rest should match.”

  “The more expensive things are, the worse it is to wear them.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I worry it might break, or get ruined, or—”

  “I don’t want to tell you those feelings are nonsense, because Alessio likes to tell me that all too often, I dismiss others’ experiences and emotions, and I shouldn’t do that.”

  Ginevra glared at him. “But?”

  “But this is ridiculous. Last year, I pulled in four million doing jobs for The League, but that’s only spending money,” Corrado murmured stepping closer to her, so she had to look up at him with those big, brown eyes. Her lips fell open in surprise, but Corrado continued on with, “It was spending money because my trust fund, for being born a Guzzi, which is spread between four investment portfolios, made me two times that in profits and interest last year. That’s before I talk about the money that is just sitting there working to earn that profit and interest. A trusted money manager handles things like taxes, my major donations to several charities, and whatever else, but those cards in my wallet I swipe every time we go out?”

  Ginevra’s throat jumped when she swallowed. “What about them?”

  “They have no limit.” Corrado bopped her on the tip of her nose with the tip of his finger, adding, “And that’s before we talk about the money Les has. So, can we shop, wear beautiful things, and be happy that we’re lucky enough to do this?”

  “That’s a lot of money, Corrado.”

  “I can’t be buried with it, Ginevra.”

  Her gaze flashed with an understanding. “You have a point.”

  “I understand that my wealth, to others, can seem excessive, and a little overwhelming.”

  “It is.”

  “So, I won’t dismiss what you think, but I won’t change how I live, either. I would rather you learn to be comfortable with wealth than afraid of it.”

  Ginevra let out a light laugh. “Well ...”

  “Hmm?”

  “As long as it’s not my money that’s being thrown around, I guess.”

  Corrado grinned. “Compromise. Now you’re talking my language, kitten.”

  Her cheeks pinked, but she didn’t hide it.

  “Now, what are we shopping for again? What kind of event?”

  Mandy’s voice had Corrado turning to face the woman. She was still standing behind the counter, and Alessio was already looking their way with a lazy smile.

  “A club opening for the Guzzis,” Corrado said, “but we can handle finding something on our own, if you wouldn’t mind.”

  Mandy waved a hand. “The shop is yours for the next two hours. If you wouldn’t mind, I might take my lunch. You won’t need me hanging around, and I can pop over to the café across the street.”

  “We’ll be fine,” Alessio assured.

  He left the counter to join Ginevra and Corrado, his hand sliding around her lower back while Corrado turned to check out a rack of large church hats. His mother liked those, and she might like to find a gift here waiting for her when she came to shop the next time.

  “Oh, and that royal purple hat,” Corrado said, “box it up for my mother, would you?”

  “First thing when I get back, Mr. Guzzi.”

  “Merci.”

  “That was sweet of you,” Ginevra said as Mandy picked up her coat and purse, readying to leave. “Does your mother shop here often?”

  “A few times a month.”

  By the time Mandy had locked the shop’s door as she left, the three of them were already closer to the back of the store. Corrado remained closer to Alessio’s side as Ginevra reached up to admire a glittering blue clutch hanging on the wall.

  “So, which Guzzi is opening the club?”

  “My oldest brother—Marcus.”

  Ginevra peeked back at them, her nose crinkling in that way. It only did that when she had something on her mind. “Huh.”

  “What?”


  “Your family ... they’re Cosa Nostra, right?”

  Alessio cleared his throat and gave Corrado a look from the side. One he did his best to ignore because Alessio was quite aware this was a goddamn touchy topic for him.

  “The majority are,” Corrado replied tightly. “I expect there’ll be a handful of important made men there considering Marcus is my father’s current right-hand, and while it’s never been explicitly said, the next Guzzi to take over the famiglia.”

  Ginevra turned to face him. “What was that about?”

  “What? Nothing.”

  Her gaze darted to Alessio and then back to Corrado. “No, there was something. In your tone, like it annoyed you.”

  “It was—”

  “Something,” Alessio put in.

  “Don’t,” Corrado warned the man beside him.

  Ginevra nodded. “Okay, now I really want to know.”

  God.

  Why couldn’t people leave him to stew about his issues alone? Not every piece of baggage he carried around needed unpacked.

  “Some people in the Guzzi organization,” Alessio said.

  “Could you not?”

  “No,” the man murmured to Ginevra, “some of them take issue with the fact Corrado didn’t join the family business and went outside of the organization instead. And this is before we deal with the fact that Cosa Nostra isn’t kind to boys who like boys.”

  Ginevra blinked.

  Corrado sucked on his teeth, annoyed again.

  “Thank you,” he told Alessio.

  The man shrugged. “Better to just handle it, I guess.”

  Right, that’s what it was.

  “And they understand you two are ...?” Ginevra asked, leaving the rest of her question unsaid as she raised her brow.

  “For the most part, no,” Corrado said. “We’re always very careful about how we present ourselves outside of our private space, and not just because of the opinions of people who might not like we’re together, but also because emotional attachments in this business can sometimes be a target for those who would think to use it. I never wanted someone to use Alessio against me, or vice versa.”

  Alessio cleared his throat. “You never explained this to me like that.”

  “Yeah, well ...”

  Shit left unsaid, again.

  “But yes,” Corrado added, shrugging one shoulder, “I didn’t care what people from my father’s famiglia thought about the fact I sleep in bed with a man, either. They’re not the ones living my life, so their voice counts for very little.”