The Guzzi Legacy: Vol 1

by Bethany-Kris

  Corrado reached for Ginevra as he replied to his brother, “Got it, Marcus.”

  Ginevra found herself tucked into Corrado’s side with Alessio on her other side as Marcus walked away from them.

  “He’s just like your father, you know?” Alessio asked.

  Corrado sighed. “Too much, sometimes.”

  “Just enough, maybe.”

  “Yet to be determined,” Corrado muttered.

  “I’d like to dance,” Ginevra said, peeking up at him.

  Corrado made a face.

  She laughed.

  “What?”

  Alessio chuckled. “Someone doesn’t dance.”

  “Not unless it’s a waltz,” Corrado said under his breath.

  “Why not?”

  “Never cared to bother, but ...”

  Ginevra pouted. “But what?”

  “Alessio loves to dance.”

  “Yes.”

  Corrado’s heady laughter drifted all around them, over the music in the club and the loud people, as he stepped aside so Alessio could take his place at her other side.

  “Ah, see, now she’s happy,” Corrado told Alessio. And then to her, “And he likes to make those he loves happy, Ginny.”

  The words were said almost carelessly. Just tossed out like they shouldn’t have meant very much at all, and she shouldn’t take them too seriously. It didn’t matter. Their weight upon impact still took her breath away as the word loves kept ringing around in the back of her mind. Not that she could think about it or dwell for too long. Alessio was already pulling her out to the floor.

  Later, she thought. She would deal with that word, what it meant, and her own feelings later. Surely, they would have enough time for that. Besides, she thought they should be aware.

  They needed to know how she felt, too. That nothing in her life would ever be the same because of these two men, and she didn’t want it to be. There wasn’t a single part of her that wanted to be without Corrado and Alessio. She wasn’t sure how that happened, but she understood why it did.

  Them.

  Simply put—because of them.

  How could someone not love those men?

  Yeah, she suspected things would be tricky when she had to go back home, but shouldn’t they at least try? She winked back at Corrado while Alessio pulled her further away, waving two fingers as her silent goodbye.

  He grinned back.

  Turning her attention on Alessio, she said, “They won’t bother him, right?”

  “Who?”

  “His father’s people.”

  Alessio’s hand at her waist tightened at her words. “Corrado is grown—he knows how to handle that nonsense.”

  “Yeah, but still.”

  Their walk came to a stop on the dance floor after they had weaved in and out of the moving people, so they were closer to the DJ booth on the other side rather than the tables and bar at the opposite end. Alessio spun around on her, a faint smile playing at the edges of his mouth, although she could still see the wariness in his gaze.

  “No, they rarely make it a point to say anything directly,” Alessio explained, shrugging his shoulders under his leather jacket. “Mostly, it’s underhanded comments that people overlook because nobody wants to cause shit for something like that. And never when his father is around to hear it.”

  Ginevra swallowed the lump forming in her throat. “Gian isn’t here tonight, though.”

  “No, he isn’t.”

  “So, a quick dance, we get drinks, and then we go back to Corrado. Right?”

  Alessio’s gaze drifted to somewhere behind her, searching the crowd. Probably for where Corrado had gone after they left him. He didn’t bother to mask the concern flashing in his gaze. Oh, sure, he acted like he wasn’t worried, but he was.

  Because it was Corrado.

  Otherwise, he didn’t give a shit.

  That was his line.

  “Sounds good,” Alessio murmured, his attention coming back to her with a sly smile. “Now, someone wants to dance, huh?”

  Ginevra laughed. “Very much.”

  • • •

  “Two fingers of whiskey,” Ginevra told the bartender—for Corrado—before adding, “spiced rum on ice, and—”

  “Try the house drink,” Alessio said in her ear, “it’s the same one across all the Guzzi clubs. Like a signature drink, it’s how you can tell when you’re in one of their spaces.”

  He winked over her shoulder.

  “Fine,” she said. He leaned in and kissed her lips, but backed away so she turned to the bartender and add, “and one of the Gold Dreams.”

  “Coming up.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Turn around,” she heard Alessio murmur along the shell of her ear.

  Ginevra grinned, but didn’t move. “Many people are watching, Les.”

  “And?”

  “And we’re supposed to get drinks, and find Corrado again, remember? You’re a bad influence, and a distraction.”

  Not a single bit of that was a lie, either.

  “We’re waiting for drinks. And I don’t see what the problem is.”

  Of course, he didn’t.

  Under the urging of his strong hands, Ginevra found herself turned around to face him. He had her pinned against the bar, his fingers tightening deliciously around the curve of her waist, so she was unable to move.

  Not that she wanted to.

  Not when he was looking at her like that.

  Alessio tipped his head down, and caught her mouth with a slow, searing kiss. He was soft at first, his tongue teasing the seam of her lips until she parted them to allow him entrance. Then, at the taste of her, that kiss turned a hell of a lot hotter. All the while, he kept her steady against the edge of the bar, unbothered by the people around them or the noise.

  His focus was on her.

  That’s all that mattered.

  All too soon for Ginevra’s liking, Alessio pulled away. Sure, he didn’t go far, only enough that his lips grazed hers as he spoke, but it was enough for her to sense his loss, and wish he was kissing her again.

  “I have to tell you something,” he said.

  Ginevra tensed, knowing nothing good ever came from those words. “Oh?”

  “Relax.”

  “What do you have to tell me?” she asked.

  Alessio sighed, his tongue snaking out to drift along his lower lip before he muttered, “I have to leave soon—The League business, and whatnot. A job that has been in the works for quite a while now, and they have the okay for it. I was the contractor put up for it, and we’re not able to change those details.”

  Ginevra blinked, taking in those words. “How soon?”

  “Likely within two or three days, we’ll see how long I can stretch it. I got the call yesterday when you were ordering at the café; that gave me seven days to get my shit in order before I have to head out.”

  “Oh.”

  Alessio made a dark noise. “Don’t do that.”

  She peered up at him. “Do what?”

  “Sound so fucking sad, it kills me.”

  “Should I be happy?”

  “Well ... no.”

  Ginevra gave him a teasing glower. “I can’t feel nothing, either, so you get one or the other. And sad was the one you got.”

  Alessio chuckled, his hands flexing against her waist again. “I get it, sweetheart. I need to go to Vegas first and grab things I need there. And if I play my cards right—or rather, work the flights right—I’ll have a daylong layover in Toronto before I head out on the assignment, but still, it’ll be soon.”

  “Soon,” she echoed. “What kind of job?”

  “Better not say for that.”

  Ginevra shivered.

  “But that wasn’t why I wanted to tell you,” Alessio said.

  She met his gaze again. “No?”

  “No, more like ... if where you want me to return to is wherever you are, and him, too, that’s where I will be. Is that where you want me, Ginev
ra?”

  Didn’t he already know?

  “Yes, this is where I want you.”

  22.

  Alessio

  A bouncer for the club led Alessio and Ginevra upstairs to the VIP section. He suspected that’s where they would find Corrado, considering he no longer lingered on the lower floor of the club.

  “Aren’t you hot in that?” Ginevra asked, fingering the neckline of his leather jacket.

  “Yes.”

  “Why not take it off, then?”

  “Discomfort doesn’t bother me that much.”

  He thanked The League for that.

  And training.

  Ginevra looked like she would say more, but he pointed across the room to distract her instead. Her gaze followed Alessio’s movements, and a playful smile curved her cheeks at the sight of Corrado sitting beside Marcus in a booth.

  “Better take the principe his drink, yeah?”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Principe,” she said as they crossed the floor.

  “Oh, don’t call him that, it makes him pissy.”

  Ginevra arched a brow at Alessio.

  He shrugged.

  “They like to call sons and daughters of mafia Dons principes or principessas,” Alessio said, shrugging one shoulder. “And I only say it when I want to get a reaction out of Corrado.”

  “Because he doesn’t like it.”

  “Exactly.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  Alessio made a noise. “Well, it’s not terrible when it ends with him fucking you.”

  Ginevra shivered.

  He laughed.

  “Now you get it,” Alessio told her.

  “What are you two grinning about?”

  Corrado’s question had Alessio turning to wink at his lover, forgetting for a moment about the people around them, and who. Although, as soon as that thought drifted through Alessio’s mind, it left with one look at Corrado.

  He was unbothered.

  He grinned back, in fact.

  Ginevra had changed more than she realized for the two. Things that had once been a source of discontent for Alessio between him and Corrado now became a background thought because it didn’t factor into what they shared, not when everything they had together proved it unimportant.

  He probably should tell Corrado that.

  There was never a good time.

  “Well?” Corrado asked.

  Alessio ignored the other people milling about—the ones at the booth with Corrado and his brother, and the others around surrounding booths. “I told her there will be a lot of principes in this club tonight, yeah?”

  Corrado’s features flashed with darkness.

  A warning.

  Alessio smirked. “All the Guzzi principes, in fact.”

  Ginevra smacked Alessio with the back of her hand, but he didn’t even flinch. “That’s enough of that.”

  Corrado chuckled and waved two fingers at her. “Come here, you.”

  He didn’t mind that Ginevra left his side to slip in the booth beside Corrado because Alessio quickly slid in after her. There, she was between them. He had his hand on her bare thigh, just under the skirt of that short dress of hers, while Corrado slung an arm behind her on the booth.

  Conversation turned on the club, and Marcus. An easy, safe topic. It allowed Corrado to join in without having to bring himself into it, which Alessio figured the man appreciated. With Guzzi mafioso, it could go either way.

  For now, Corrado relaxed, but Alessio kept an eye on him because that could change in a blink. An offhanded comment from one of the many men who just wanted to point out again that Corrado didn’t wear the Guzzi legacy the same way his brother did, or his other brothers who hadn’t arrived yet. Or perhaps someone who wanted to share their opinion about what they believed about Corrado and Alessio’s relationship.

  Although, now, it was different.

  A woman stood between them.

  Alessio highly suspected a comment would come because of that if nothing else. And if he could shut it down before it turned into something that might cause a problem, then that would be far better for all of them.

  He’d become used to this game with these people. They were careful when their boss happened to be around, but other than that ... Corrado became fair game. Like he had been for most of his life.

  Alessio wouldn’t stand for it.

  For the most part, Corrado ignored the shit they threw at him from people who, as far as it concerned Alessio, didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as either of them. He didn’t want to cause issues for his brothers, or father. God knew Alessio could understand that, but it left Corrado as the proverbial punching bag.

  Which he was not.

  Anyone else, and he’d cut their throats.

  Just not these people.

  It irritated Les to no end.

  “He’s not wrong, though,” Ginevra said.

  It didn’t take Alessio and Corrado long to figure out what she was referring to. Across the VIP section, the rest of the other Guzzi brothers had arrived in a trio. Chris, and the other twins didn’t waste time greeting the people closer to the stairs before crossing the floor, and joining the rest of their family.

  Bene and Beni busied themselves with Marcus, congratulating him on the club before turning their attention on Ginevra just long enough to greet her the same way their older brother had earlier. Chris laughed as he leaned over the booth to give his twin a one-armed hug.

  “Got them both out tonight, huh?” Chris asked.

  Corrado flashed his teeth in a grin. “Careful.”

  “I’m just saying you’re in a far better mood when one of them happens to be around. That’s good for all of us, Corrado.”

  Alessio glanced at Corrado from behind Ginevra, nodding as he did so. “He’s right, though.”

  “Fuck off, all of you.”

  Someone had to tease Corrado, but they did it in such a way that didn’t make him the lesser man in the room because his choices didn’t match their own. All in good fun, and Corrado knew, too.

  There was no malice here.

  Only respect.

  And of course, love.

  They were simply careful about how they showed it. Alessio doubted they would change that about their relationship. He didn’t want people to see the depth of this thing between them. Oh, he believed Ginevra understood, but that was different.

  She should.

  She was in it, too.

  Everyone else?

  Fuck them.

  Corrado caught Alessio’s stare again, but he didn’t find playfulness reflecting back. Instead, he found the same silent intensity that had accompanied their relationship from the beginning. A conversation that wasn’t had with words because they never needed to say things to make sure the other heard what they wanted said.

  Alessio gave Corrado a half smile. In response, Corrado’s hand lifted from Ginevra’s shoulder, and two of his fingers ghosted along the side of Alessio’s neck. Barely there at all, and yet he still somehow felt it all over.

  Fuck.

  He needed to get this goddamn Albania job done, come back home, and settle out all the shit they had left to work on. Which wasn’t that much, but more ... things left unsaid.

  They needed to be out.

  Tonight, however, wasn’t the right time.

  When would it ever be?

  Or there wasn’t a right time for this. Timing didn’t matter when something should be said, full stop. As long as they put it out there, wasn’t that all that mattered?

  Alessio didn’t get the chance to think on that for too long. A sound behind him—someone’s disgust at something coming out as a harsh noise. Like a cross between a scoff, and a grunt, he thought.

  Turning his head, his gaze landed on an older man. With a middle as wide as his shoulders, and his gray hair thinned on the top. Still, the fitted suit he wore, the lit cigar dangling from his fingertips, and the s
mug look of utter arrogance on his face told Alessio all he needed about the man.

  Likely a Capo.

  His choice in dress, and the attitude wafting from him gave it away. They all acted the same fucking way, but especially the older generation.

  Alessio’s gaze darted to Corrado when he turned to look for the sound behind them, too. He hadn’t recognized the man, but clearly Corrado did what with the way his jaw tightened at the sight of the prick staring at them. Apparently, their chat and Corrado’s touch wasn’t missed by that fuck.

  He didn’t even try to hide his disgust.

  “Do you have something you want to say, George?” Corrado asked, his hand coming to rest along the side of Ginevra’s shoulder when she thought to turn around to join the conversation, too. His hand kept her facing the rest of their booth which had now gone silent. Alessio’s attention went back to the Capo in the booth behind them. “How long has it been, anyway? Three years since I last saw you? Could have done with another three, to be honest.”

  George smirked, flashing yellowing teeth. “I feel the same way, Corrado. I prefer it when your father keeps you out of sight, if I’m being honest.”

  Alessio tensed at that.

  Where the fuck did this guy get—

  “And why is that?” Corrado asked, stopping Alessio’s train of thought.

  What was he doing?

  Purposely trying to bait the asshole?

  Why?

  “Fucking queers,” George uttered, his gaze darting away from Corrado and Alessio. “Gian Guzzi ought to be fucking ashamed of what he’s allowed to happen with you, Corrado. Had you been my son, I would have beat your ass until you understood what I expected from you.”

  Yep.

  This time, the comment hadn’t even been underhanded, but right fucking out there. Alessio drifted away from Ginevra in the booth.

  Alessio didn’t get offended at being called a queer, frankly. He was bisexual—he fit the bill of queer perfectly fine, even if he didn’t use the label. Some people needed labels because it gave them a sense of belonging.

  Words were important.

  People forgot.

  “What did you fucking say?” Alessio asked, straightening to his full height as he exited the booth. George looked his way, gaze narrowing and still looking too fucking arrogant for Alessio’s liking. The man likely figured nothing would happen to him because of who he was, and his position. “Say it again ... go on.”