Honor (Made Book 1)

by Melissa Ellen

She shook her head, looking away. “I don’t know. I only know the rumors.”

  “She was gone years before she died. If she was coming back for me, why wait so long?” I asked, more to myself.

  “Lena.” She faced me again. “Please don’t go looking for answers where there are none. My only reason for telling you was to apologize and to let you know I understand what you’re struggling with. I see so much of her in you. Your parents’ marriage was never one of love. It was arranged the same as you and Lorenzo’s. I fear that history will repeat itself, which is why I won’t stand between you and Mario any longer. But I will insist you think carefully about what you’re doing, about the ramifications of your choice.”

  I swiped at the errant tear that slid down my cheek. She pulled me into a warm hug, causing the dam to break. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed having his family in my life. I’d missed my mother every day from the moment she left, but having the Leonis in my corner had made it all a little more bearable and less lonely.

  She kissed the top of my head, the way Mario always did, then pulled back, her hands cupping my face.

  “You’re a strong woman, Lena Moretti. No matter what happens, know we are here for you.”

  “Thank you.” I smiled between my tears.

  “Ma,” Mario said from the hall.

  We both turned to look at him, his arms crossed with a stern expression. She shooed him away with the flick of her wrist. “Calm down, cucciolo. We were only making up.”

  I released a snotty laugh, wiping my face dry. She gave me one more hug, then stood from the couch. Walking in Mario’s direction, she gave him a quick pat on the cheek, followed by a kiss, then disappeared down the hall.

  I raised to my feet as Mario came toward me.

  “We need to go,” he said.

  “I know.”

  “You sure you’re okay?” He threaded his fingers through mine and lifted my wrist to his lips.

  “Never been better.”

  12

  Mario

  Insomnia and I had become motherfucking best friends. For the second time in my life, I’d been given the rank of a soldier, a man of honor. But this time, I wasn’t proud of the oath I’d recited.

  In a dark basement surround by Moretti, my uncle, and a few other members, I was inducted into the Moretti Crime Family. With a knife and slice of my trigger finger, I swore with my own blood to put the family before anyone else or burn like the saint I’d lit on fire in my hand.

  With each passing day it got harder to keep the pretense with Moretti…and even harder to keep from driving my fist into Lorenzo’s fucking face any time he touched Lena in front of me or treated her with disrespect. I wasn’t sure which pissed me off more.

  On top of all that, Rhodes and Maxwell were getting impatient. I still didn’t have much for them. For the most part, Moretti kept me in the dark and at Lena’s side. Not that I minded spending time with her. They’d already followed up on Tommy, using the address I gave them. As expected, he was long gone.

  Dressed in a tux, I waited by the limo in the penthouse garage with Ricky, the other made man Moretti had asked to escort him and his family to the charity event as extra protection. The elevator doors finally opened. Moretti walked out with Ariana under his arm, Lorenzo and Lena following closely behind.

  My eyes tracked Lena, my pulse hammering with every step she took. The woman owned me. Every single fucking part. I wasn’t even sure if she understood how I felt about her, the lengths I would go to for her. I barely understood it.

  She looked stunning in a red, silk dress that matched her bright red lips, a revealing slit up her thigh. Her long, dark hair hung down her back in soft curls, ones I planned to twist my hand in when I kissed her later.

  Her face, although always beautiful, looked unhappy. At least, until her gaze locked onto me. While Moretti’s attention was buried in Ariana’s neck and Lorenzo’s on his phone, I gave Lena a meaningful look, one full of promise. Lowering her head, she hid her blush and smile.

  I opened the limo door for them as they neared. Ariana and Moretti climbed in first, followed by Lena. She ducked to get in and Lorenzo put a hand on the small of her back, where her dress dipped into a low “V” right above her ass. My grip tightened on the doorframe, my jaw hardening with my muscles.

  Witnessing another touch made my determination skyrocket. I was going to use every opportunity tonight to gain Moretti’s trust and find a way to unlock the secrets he kept.

  Reigning in my jealousy, I shut the door before folding myself into the front passenger seat next to Ricky, who was already behind the wheel with the car running.

  The event was exactly like the many others I had attended in the past, on the sidelines, as security detail for the Blackwoods. It was held in the large ballroom of a luxury hotel, elaborately decorated with lavish plates of food and the finest liquor, all in the name of charity.

  Ricky and I stood in the shadows a few feet away as Moretti and Lorenzo made their way around the room, mingling with the socialites and entrepreneurs of the city. Ariana was glued to Moretti’s side, while Lena kept as much distance from Lorenzo as she could without raising onlookers’ suspicions.

  She had a practiced smile engrained on her face most of the evening as various people greeted and congratulated them on their engagement. The women fawned over the ring, while the men either clapped Lorenzo on his back or shook his hand. Every friendly exchange was as insincere as the next.

  I split my time between watching Lena and Moretti. It wasn’t until Lorenzo’s eyes went to Alex Prescott as he entered the ballroom that my attention shifted. Lorenzo leaned in toward Moretti, discreetly whispering something. Moretti nodded, followed by Lorenzo excusing himself from the group and intercepting Prescott.

  I kept my eyes on them until they disappeared through a door off to the side. Moretti continued his conversation with an older couple that had stopped to say hello, his expression turning from feigned interest to a dry displeasure as they droned on about their trip to Naples. Giving them a forced smile, he finally excused himself, leaving the ladies to fend for themselves.

  Ricky and I started to follow but he held up his hand for us to remain put, then disappeared through the same door as Lorenzo and Prescott.

  Fuck.

  Lena side-eyed me from where she stood, as if she could feel the frustration emitting from me. She signaled for me to follow her. I shook my head slightly in response. I could see the questions in her eyes, ones I had no plan on answering now. And as much as I wanted to be alone with her, I needed to focus.

  It was thirty minutes before they each came trickling back into the room. Prescott returned first, his expression strained, and made a straight line for the bar. Moretti and Lorenzo walked in shortly after. They stopped to chat casually with a few other guests before finally returning to Ariana and Lena, only moments before it was announced that we should all take a seat at our assigned dinner table.

  The tables were round, covered with crisp white table clothes and eight extravagant place settings. I ended up situated between Ricky and Lena, with Lorenzo on her other side. Moretti and Ariana were in the seats to Lorenzo’s left. The Naples couple from earlier took the final two seats.

  The meal was delicious, the conversation dull. Besides responding when prompted, I spent most of my time watching Prescott across the room, who was either under some serious stress or had a liking for expensive liquor. Very possibly both. He’d chosen to drink most of his meal and didn’t seem too interested in the conversation at his table. Chancing he wasn’t moving anytime soon, I peeked over at Lena.

  Her eyes glazed over while the others were distracted with their storytelling and laughter. Shifting slightly, I tried, for the first time since I’d seen her tonight, to touch her. Widening my legs, I brushed my thigh against hers with my hand on my knee. Her eyes briefly flicked to my profile. Her chest heaved slightly with her short breath as I continued to play my part, laughing with our dinner companion
s, and waiting for her to make the next move.

  When I finally felt the lightest brush of her pinky against mine, my mouth curved with my first genuine smile of the night. Our fingers curled one by one around each other’s, concealed merely by the table and white cloth that draped over the edge and into our laps.

  Maybe it was the thrill of the forbidden touch, but it felt more intimate than anything we’d ever done. My mind went to less innocent places, thinking of all the dirty things I wanted to do with her next time we were alone.

  “Lena, Ariana asked you a question,” Moretti barked his annoyance.

  Startled, she pulled her hand from mine, her eyes snapping to her father and then Ariana. Her blush slowly inched from her chest to the apples of her cheeks, making her even more beautiful, and it even harder for me not to pull her into my arms and kiss those damn lips I knew tasted like strawberries.

  “I’m sorry, Ariana.”

  “No problem, darling. I was just wondering if you’ve shopped for your wedding dress, yet.”

  “No. We barely got engaged.” She picked up her wine glass, taking a large gulp.

  “Well, it’s never too early to start looking. It took a friend of mine almost six months to find one, not to mention the time to have it made and all the fittings...” the Naples woman added.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Lena said dismissively. “Excuse me, please.” She stood from her seat as the other two women prattled on about wedding planning, paying her no mind.

  Lena maneuvered through the tables and around the staff that was clearing dinner plates. I followed her with my eyes as she headed for the exit to the main lobby of the hotel, waiting for Moretti’s signal. He nodded and I raised to my feet, but Lorenzo beat me to it.

  “Keep your seat, Leoni. I can handle my fiancée myself.” He lifted his jacket from the back of his chair, shrugging into it, his eyes meeting mine in a mocking stare.

  I remained standing, clenching and unclenching my fists. A war waged inside me, the thin rubber band holding my restraint ready to snap. I hated knowing I was forced by circumstance to back down from his challenge. With my teeth grinding, I slowly lowered to my chair.

  The fucker smirked, then walked away. I watched him until he was gone, only then looking back at Moretti. He’d been watching the whole thing and I worried I’d just fucked everything up.

  “Watching the two of you is like watching your fathers all over again. I will never understand the rivalry between the two families.”

  Deciding it best to keep him in the dark, I simply smiled, relaxing the stiff set of my shoulders, forcing them into a casual shrug. “What can I say? Leonis prefer to be on top.”

  With an amused expression, he rubbed at his cleanly shaven chin, assessing me. He shifted his gaze to Ariana, who was knee deep in conversation with the Naples couple, then stood. “Come.”

  Ricky remained with Ariana as the two of us headed for the bar. Moretti ordered two bourbons then angled himself to look at me, propping himself with his left arm on the edge. I leaned into my elbows, resting them on the bar, watching the bartender deftly work.

  He set a glass in front of each of us. Moretti tossed a chunk of cash onto the shiny marble top, then lifted his glass toward me before tipping it back.

  He exaggerated a satisfied sigh, a rare smile on his face. “I owe you an apology, Mario.”

  I turned at his unexpected comment, my eyebrows lifting in question. Matteo Moretti apologized to no one. “For?”

  “Your father. I’m starting to wonder if things hadn’t turned out the way they did, whether it would be you standing at my side right now, engaged to Lena.”

  The tension in my neck returned. Lifting the glass, I swallowed the rest of the bourbon in one gulp. He wasn’t saying anything I hadn’t thought myself a million times. But I was only interested in the part where I was engaged to Lena; I’d never want to be his right-hand man.

  “Your father would be proud of you, following in his footsteps, joining the family.”

  He was wrong. There was a good chance my father would find out, and when he did, he’d be pissed. But I stayed silent, letting Moretti believe what he wanted.

  He clapped his hand against my shoulder, before turning to the bar and polishing off his drink. My eyes peered over his head at the entrance when I saw Lena stomping her way back into the room, looking even more angry than when she’d left. Lorenzo was at her back, his hand snatched her wrist, yanking her to a stop. He whispered into her ear and her face paled.

  I knew I needed to put an end to this shit. Soon.

  Moretti had caught onto the scene. He straightened, his anger and frustration evident.

  “Let me talk to her,” I offered.

  “Fine,” he grumbled. “But if she continues to make a scene—”

  “She won’t.”

  Accepting me for my word, he nodded. I waited for Lorenzo to walk away from Lena before intercepting her near our table. “Let’s go.”

  “Where?”

  “To talk.”

  She glanced over my shoulder at Lorenzo, who’d joined Moretti at the bar, then spun on her heels, leading me to the exit. I stopped her with a hand to her arm, shaking my head, then nodding toward the far corner of the room. It was far enough away from prying ears, but visible enough that the two of us sneaking off wouldn’t raise suspicion. It also gave me a good vantage point to keep an eye on Moretti and Prescott.

  “I hate him,” she hissed as we came to a stop away from the crowd. Her whole body was rigid, her hands trembling as she flexed them at her sides.

  “I know.”

  “I refuse to marry him.”

  “I know.”

  “I’ll kill myself before—”

  “Stop!” I commanded, my tone stern.

  She bristled.

  I reached out for her, barely stopping myself before running the hand through my hair. “Fuck,” I muttered under my breath. There were moments every man questioned his abilities, his strength. This was one of those moments. After being tested at every turn, I was on the verge of losing my shit tonight. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you more, but I never want to hear you say those words again.”

  “I didn’t mean it.” She crossed her arms.

  “I know,” I said ruefully. She was just pissed and ranting, but the thought that she’d ever hurt herself... “Listen to me, as much as I hate to ask you this, I need you to not aggravate your father and Lorenzo any more tonight. I can’t focus on what I need to do and worry about you at the same time.”

  “What is it you need to do?” she pried.

  I scanned the room for my targets before returning my eyes to hers. “Look, just do this for me, and I promise I’ll tell you everything.”

  “When?” she pressed some more. She was fed up.

  Knowing it was time to come clean with her, I told her, “This weekend. Tell your father you need time away. He’ll insist you don’t go alone. I’ll take you, and we can talk.”

  “Okay,” she agreed reluctantly.

  I wanted to pull her in my arms and kiss the hell out of her in that moment, make her feel the promise my words held, reassure her it was in her best interest, or I’d never ask her to do this for me. She was off-limits, though. So, I didn’t do any of those things. Instead, I watched her walk away from me.

  13

  Lena

  I was pissed. I was trapped in a world I wanted nothing to do with and had no easy way out. The one man who I thought understood basically asked me to fall in line, do as I was told. Though I knew Mario’s reasons weren’t the same as Lorenzo’s or my father’s, it still hurt. The only plus side was knowing he would finally tell me why he’d chosen to work for my father.

  Picking up a glass of champagne from a passing tray, I forced a smile on my face and joined my party, choosing to stand near Ariana. Besides Mario, she was the only person I could somewhat stomach to speak to in our circle.

  I gulped down the golden bubbles, earning me a
nother cold stare from Lorenzo. I gave him a mocking smile and then polished it off, quickly swapping it out for another glass as a server went by.

  “Don’t you think you should slow down, mi cara?” The warning was implied in Lorenzo’s tone and the muscles ticking in his jaw.

  I opened my mouth to smart-off, but thought better of it, guzzling down more of the champagne. I’d promised Mario I’d behave. There was no need, anyway. Ariana had put in her two cents before I could say a word.

  “Let the girl live a little…” She touched his shoulder, his eyes locking onto her hand as if it carried a deadly disease. "Besides, it won’t be much longer and she’ll have your children taking up all her time.”

  The thought made my stomach roll, all the food and alcohol threatening to come back up.

  “Children?” a humorous voice I vaguely recognized asked from behind me.

  Whoever the man was who’d just invited himself into the conversation had brought out the devil in my father’s eyes. His whole demeanor changed from casual to domineering. Lorenzo was less subtle. His normally detached stare morphed into one full of promising threats, ones that had the blood in my veins running cold.

  “That’s right”—he snapped his fingers—"I guess congratulations are in order,” the man continued, seemingly unaffected. He was either unaware of the reactions he was evoking, or just didn’t care. Something told me it was the latter.

  “Declan. I didn’t realize you were in town,” my father finally spoke, his voice low and full of grit.

  “Ah. Then maybe you didn’t receive my message.” The man stopped beside me, his hands casually going into his slack pockets, completely at ease with the murderous stares directed at him.

  My breath faltered as I finally saw the man who belonged to the confident voice. His lips were turned up in a broad smile, a drastic contradiction to my father’s and Lorenzo’s expressions.

  “But then again, I received yours, so I have a hard time believing that.” He winked—the man was suicidal—then turned to face me, offering his hand. “Declan Connolly, I don’t think we’ve officially met.”