Lorenzo Beretta
Copyright © 2020 Abigail Davies.
All rights reserved.
Published: Abigail Davies 2020
www.abigaildaviesauthor.com
No parts of this book may be reproduced in any form without written consent from the author. Except in the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a piece of fiction. Any names, characters, businesses, places or events are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, events or locations is purely coincidental.
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Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
Editing: Jennifer Roberts-Hall
Proofreading: Judy’s Proofreading
Cover Design: Pink Elephant Designs
Formatting: Pink Elephant Designs
Contents
PROLOGUE
FOUR WEEKS EARLIER
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
EPILOGUE
Acknowledgments
Also by Abigail Davies
About the Author
PROLOGUE
AIDA
My stomach rolled for what felt like the thousandth time that morning. Outwardly I was calm and collected, but inside I was a complete mess of emotions. I couldn’t pinpoint which one was strongest. Regret? Sadness?
Maybe a mixture of both.
I placed my palm on my stomach to quell my nerves and stared at myself in the mirror. I shouldn’t have agreed to this. I should have changed my mind.
But did I really have a choice?
From the time the first words were uttered, I knew my life had taken a turn—a turn I’d never expected. A turn I never wanted. But I was raised to confront challenges head-on—to never give in. So why did it feel like I was about to give away my entire life? Why did it feel like today would be the last day of the life I’d always dreamed of?
I inhaled a breath and gazed down at my shaking hands while trying to ignore the buzz of women around me. As soon as I’d opened my eyes this morning, everything had been a whirlwind of activity. The time ticked by, bringing me closer and closer to my final destination. It haunted me, promising that nothing would ever be the same again.
My finger smoothed over a bead on my white dress, causing a smirk to pull at my lips. The symbol of this dress was ironic. I wondered if the people around me truly believed I was a virgin? I may have been raised in an Italian family, but that didn’t mean I’d saved myself for marriage.
Marriage.
Holy shit. I was about to get married.
My eyes widened, and the long fake lashes one of the women had applied to me poked me in the eye.
“Fuck,” I murmured. Gasps echoed around me, but I didn’t care. I was doing this for the family.
My family.
His family.
I ground my teeth together and stepped closer to the mirror. My face was made up to within an inch of its life, and I could have sworn I had cracks in my makeup where it was layered on so thick. “No.” I shook my head and sidestepped the woman trying to push a veil into my hair. “No,” I said, louder this time. “Out,” I gasped, feeling the world starting to tilt beneath my feet. “Everybody but Noemi…get out.”
I spun around, waiting for them to exit the room we were holed up in at the back of the church. Apparently, it was tradition in his family, but at this point, I didn’t give a flying fuck.
“Aida—”
I held my hand up. “I mean it. Everybody out.”
There was a pause and then, “You heard her.” My big sister stepped closer to me. “Get out.”
It was only seconds until the room was empty, leaving just me and Noemi, and it was in that second, I knew I’d made a mistake. Maybe I could run away and forget all of this ever happened? Maybe I could dye my hair and move to another country? Maybe I could—
No. I couldn’t.
My family would be left behind, and I couldn’t bear to think about what would happen to them if I left him standing at the altar. I was fucked either way.
“I hate my life,” I groaned, turning back to the mirror and pulling off the fake lashes that weighed heavy on my eyes. I finally felt like I could actually open them properly. “I hate this dress. I hate this makeup.” I threw my hands in the air. “I hate it all.”
I knew I was acting like a teenager and not the twenty-year-old woman I was. Twenty. I scoffed. In a matter of hours, I’d be married off and have to live the rest of my life known as his wife. I was getting married to a man I barely knew. Sure, I knew of him, which also meant I knew exactly who and what he was. A dangerous man. A man who got everything he wanted.
Including me.
“I can’t do this,” I whispered.
“Aida.” Noemi rushed forward and planted her hands on my shoulders. She was always the impulsive one of the two of us. I was level-headed and planned things to a T. I even knew what college I’d be attending when I was nine years old. And yet, it had been me thrown into this situation. I didn’t do well with change, and my entire life was about to be turned upside down.
“You can do this.” She bent at her knees, so our eyes were level. “Think about what this will do for Mom and Dad. It’ll change everything.” That was what I was afraid of.
“But—”
“You can do it, Aida.” She nodded, almost as if she was trying to do it for me. “I have an idea.” She smiled, the kind of smile that told me she was about to go rogue, but at this point, I couldn’t bring myself to care. My skin itched from the layers of material I was wearing, and the pins in my hair pulled on my scalp every time I moved. “Sit.” She led me over to the chair I’d sat in for hours as people had transformed me into someone I didn’t recognize.
“We don’t have time,” I huffed out as Noemi rushed across the room and came back with her bag. “It starts in ten minutes—”
“I only need five.” She stood between me and the mirror as she pulled a wipe from the packet. “If he wants to marry you, then he needs to see the real you, not the you they all think he wants.” She swiped the wipe over my cheeks and eyes, and I finally felt like I could move without cracking. I closed my eyes and let Noemi work her magic. She started with my face, then moved to my hair and pulled every pin out of my head. “There. All done.”
I opened my eyes and stared in the mirror, only this time I actually recognized the woman staring back at me. A light layer of foundation along with a swipe of mascara and lip gloss was all I ever wore, and Noemi had stripped me right back to that. My wavy dark-brown hair came to the middle of my back, covering most of the lace on the huge dress.
Loud knocking rang on the door, followed by, “Aida, they’re ready for you.”
“One minute, Dad!” Noemi shouted. She pulled me up and dragged me to the screen I’d dressed behind. “Mom got you this the day we went dress shopping,” Noemi whispered. She pulled a box from under the chair and placed it on top. “Today isn’t just about what he wants.” She
put her hands on either side of my face. “Make it about you too, baby sis. Don’t let him decide the rest of your life.” I heard her words loud and clear.
“Get changed.” She undid the buttons on the back of my dress, winked, then stepped backward. “I’ll see you out there.”
The door clicked shut a couple of seconds later, and I reached down to open the box. My stomach rolled in excitement when I saw the simple dress I’d fallen in love with at the bridal shop. It only took me a minute to get out of the dress I hated and into the one I loved—a simple A-line with no sleeves, and intricate lace from my collarbone working down into the off-white material. It was a statement, one that I knew most of the people sitting in the church wouldn’t appreciate, but it was me. It was my style.
“Aida?” Dad called again.
“Coming!” I took one final look at myself in the mirror, pushed the comb of the veil into my hair, then stepped toward the door.
I worked on autopilot as we walked to the big, ornate doors of the church. This was it. This was the moment everything would change.
“You’re doing great,” Dad murmured from next to me. He was dressed in a perfectly pressed suit, something that I’d never seen him wear before. I was used to his usual T-shirt and jeans while he worked in the food store he owned. Even on Sundays, when we all came to church, he only wore a shirt with his jeans. But that wouldn’t suffice for today. Today I was getting married. I was about to promise vows to a man I barely knew. What the hell was I doing?
“I don’t think I can do this,” I whispered, glancing around to see if anyone heard. A few people were still milling about, but as soon as they went through the side door to the main part of the church, it was just my dad and me.
“Baby girl.” He turned to face me fully and clasped my shoulders. His brown-eyed gaze met mine, but I looked away, concentrating on his graying mustache that was perfectly combed and trimmed. I wasn’t sure what he was thinking, but as soon as I stared him in the eyes, I knew I wouldn’t have a choice. This wasn’t just about me. This was about all of us. With this one sacrifice, it would mean my dad wouldn’t have to work eighteen hours a day like he had for most of his life.
“If you don’t want to do this, we can walk out of here right now.” He squeezed a little and nodded. “You’ll always be my baby girl, and I’ll always protect you.”
I’d have been lying if I said I wasn’t tempted to take him up on his offer. No one was making me do this, at least not physically, but I knew what the fallout would be if I didn’t do it. My family would suffer. The family who had supported me every step of the way. The family who fought to make sure Noemi and I had a better life than they did. I couldn’t walk away because, if I did, I’d be turning my back on them all.
“No,” I croaked out. “It’s just nerves.” I tried to smile behind the veil and spun around to face the doors.
“If you’re sure…”
“I’m sure.”
I wasn’t sure, but it didn’t matter now. The doors swung open, the music started to play, and I took a step forward with my dad next to me. My legs felt like Jell-O, my breaths becoming pants, but I kept moving one foot in front of the other.
The pews were full to the brim, and there were even a few people standing at the edge of the church to witness this event. An event that meant more than just two people creating an unbreakable union. That was what I’d been told. I was making history. I was making a difference. I was helping The Family.
But at what cost? What was the price that I was going to have to pay? My freedom? My choices? What would happen after this? I was two steps away from the man waiting at the altar.
Two steps away from my life no longer being mine.
FOUR WEEKS EARLIER
CHAPTER 1
LORENZO
I closed my eyes and leaned my head back as she took as much of me in her mouth as she could. It wasn’t the best blow job I’d ever had, but it would be enough to erase the tension in my body—tension that had been building up from the moment my dad told me I had to attend this function with him. I fuckin’ hated these things. I despised being surrounded by rich assholes who thought they were better than everyone else.
As the oldest child, it was my job to set an example, to show a united front with the Beretta family. From a young age, I’d known what my role would be, and I was okay with that, but it didn’t mean I hadn’t envied my brother and sister, who had lived completely different lives than me.
My younger brother didn’t have to answer to our father in the same way I did. He didn’t have to learn the ins and outs of the business—both legal and illegal. He didn’t have to train in several martial arts, and he didn’t have to have the perfect aim while shooting a gun. But it was nothing compared to my sister and the protection from all the bad things surrounding us.
They’d lived a childhood that I hadn’t.
They hadn’t witnessed what was behind the curtain.
I had. I was shown exactly what our family was at a young age. I’d watched my father torture a man for lying to him. I’d been seven, and the screams of pain had woken me up. That was the first time I’d listened to someone begging for their life. Somewhere along the way I’d lost count, and the person causing the pain had turned from my father to me. I’d become his project, his work of art that he’d molded into shape.
I gritted my teeth as her tongue lapped around the head of my cock, and I tried to push all of my thoughts aside. I needed this, even if it was subpar. So, I took control. I weaved my hand into her hair, opened my eyes, and forced my cock down her throat as far as it would go. Shock flashed across her face as her gag reflex kicked in, but I didn’t care. This wasn’t about her—it was never about the women. It was about me.
“Fuck.” My muscles tensed as I exploded into her mouth, and as soon as I was done, I pushed her off, then zipped up my slacks.
“That was so…”
I blocked the rest of her sentence out, not wanting to listen to her grating voice. It was too high for my liking—too sickly sweet. I inhaled a deep breath, getting a lungful of her cheap perfume, and snarled at the smell. I didn’t want her around me. She’d served her purpose, so as soon as we pulled up outside the art museum, where the function was being held, I told her, “You can go now.”
“What? Lorenzo, I thought I was attending with you?”
I pushed out of the limousine and adjusted my suit jacket and tie. “You thought wrong.” I didn’t turn back to look at her as I strode over to the steps lined with red material. A smirk lifted on my lips at the color. It was appropriate for the Beretta family.
People milled outside with clipboards and headsets, but I didn’t look at any of them. I was here for my father, nothing else. If I had my way, I’d never attend another one of these fuckin’ things again. But Father said it was to keep the connection with the world everyone could see. Protection for the underground business only a select few people knew about.
Sure, they knew we were Mafia, but that didn’t mean they knew exactly what we did. The feds had tried to take us down countless times. Once, they even tried to frame my father for a crime he didn’t commit, but they were unsuccessful, and it would remain that way as long as we kept the peace.
“Good evening, Mr. Beretta,” a soft voice said from beside me. I raised a brow and moved my gaze to the woman in a slinky black dress with a headset placed over her perfectly straight hair. “I’ll escort you to your table.”
I didn’t grace her with a response, not that I needed to. Her arm brushed against mine as she led me into the vast entrance full of drapes covering most of the artwork. I scoffed. What was the point in using an art museum for a function if you were then going to cover up the art?
The woman pointed. “Your father is just over there.”
I tilted my head at her in a half nod, then stalked toward my dad. He was sitting at the table next to my mom, and they both looked perfectly put together. I could never remember a time when they didn’t. Outw
ardly they always presented the perfect picture, but those closest to them knew how much my mom hated this life and how much my dad loved it. He lived for the blood soaked onto his hands.
“Lorenzo.” Ma’s voice was a mere sigh of relief. She knew how much I didn’t want to come to these things. Sometimes I bailed to try and show that I couldn’t be controlled, but the older I got, the more I realized I needed to be here.
“Hey, Ma.” I dipped down and placed a kiss on her cheek. “You look beautiful, as always.”
She rolled her eyes, but you couldn’t misinterpret the smile pulling at her lips. “And you look handsome, my son.” She smoothed out the lapel of my jacket and indicated the seat next to my father. It was a silent command, one I listened to without any thought.
I undid the button on my jacket and lowered into the seat, not disturbing my dad, who was talking to someone on the opposite side of the table. Respect for my elders had been drummed into me from a young age, and I knew exactly how to present myself in the right way—in public at least.
A glass with a finger of whisky was placed in front of me—no ice—and although all I wanted to do was take the shot in one, I sipped on it, trying to look as refined as possible.
The string quartet playing and the eyes burning into the side of my face didn’t go unnoticed. “Lorenzo,” a voice to my left said. It was low and deep, a distinct tone that couldn’t be mistaken for anyone but my father.
I turned to face him, my gaze flashing over his strong nose and cut jawline. He may have been sixty-five, but he didn’t look a day over fifty. “Father.” I sat up a little straighter when his deep brown gaze didn’t move off my face.
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