EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2018 Elena Kincaid
ISBN: 978-1-77339-589-0
Cover Artist: Jay Aheer
Editor: Karyn White
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
I would like to dedicate this book to family. They wanted to give their children a better life, so they uprooted theirs to give us one.
IN FAIR BRIGHTON
Star-Crossed Mafia, 1
Elena Kincaid
Copyright © 2018
Chapter One
Verona, Italy
The heavens were about to open up and pour. Sasha downed the last of her cappuccino and then threw down money for the bill. Her hotel was only five blocks away. “I can make it,” she mumbled.
She was wrong. One block’s worth of a light drizzle, turned into a torrential downpour. Leave it to me to visit Verona during one of the wettest months of the year and not think to carry an umbrella. By the end of the second block, she was completely soaked through from her head all the way to her damn, adorable, Gucci, four-inch heels, which prevented her from making a run for it. Instead, she slowed down her gait and embraced the soak.
Another block later, with the rain easing only slightly, Sasha found herself standing stock-still, while in the middle of crossing the street, after a loud boom resonated somewhere around her. Was that a gunshot? Frantically, she looked around her for the source, but when finally, realizing that she needed to get out of the street, it was a moment too late. A car was headed straight toward her, brakes screeching, and as if trapped in a slow-motion movie, her brain had time to process that she would not get out of the way fast enough.
Strong arms wrapped around her, jerking her backward, landing both her and her savior with their asses on the pavement. Those same strong arms lifted her and nudged her forward.
“Over here,” the man said loudly to compete with the sound of the heavy rain falling. They ended up in a narrow alcove, the front of a little antique shop which was currently closed. “Are you all right?”
She looked up at the tall, brunet male, stunned by the color of his greenish-gray eyes, and nodded as droplets of water rolled down his face. Her heart still beat frantically, leaving her breathless and unable to speak just yet. When she finally managed to catch her breath, she said, “I heard … I thought I heard a gunshot.”
His face turned serious, concern written on his handsomely rugged face, his well-defined jaw tense. “No, sweetness. Just a Vespa backfiring. With so much going on in the world, I don’t blame you for thinking that.”
Sasha inhaled deeply and then noisily exhaled, slowly feeling her heart rate return to normal. “Thank you for saving me.” She managed to give the stranger a shaky smile.
His answering smile nearly took her breath away. A small gap in between his front teeth was even more endearing on his otherwise perfectly straight pearly-whites.
“What’s your name, sweetness?” he asked her.
“Sasha.”
“Well, Sasha.” He took her hand in his. “I’m very glad to have been in the right place at the right time.” He brought her hand to his lips. “I shudder to think what could have happened.”
He released her hand, making her feel bereft of his touch.
“You didn’t tell me your name.”
He smiled again. “I’m Rome.”
She couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her. “All you need is an O at then of your name, and then you’re definitely in the right city.” She knew her joke was lame, but it got him to smile again.
His eyes sparkled. “Too bad your name isn’t Juliet.”
Oh my!
They stood staring at one another for some time after that, neither of them seemingly able to look away. For her, maybe it was sharing a life and death moment with this stranger, or the fact that her body had never had this intense of a reaction to someone she had just met, or ever for that matter. True, he was stunningly beautiful to look at, with his gorgeous face, and well-built, lean muscular body, but it was more than that. She felt an undeniable pull to him.
When the rain all but stopped, she realized she couldn’t simply walk away from this man and never see him again. “Can I buy you dinner?” she asked. She could feel her cheeks burning. She’d never asked a man out before. “To say thank you, I mean.”
“No, you may not,” he said with a smirk.
Disappointed and embarrassed, she was about to make her quick getaway, when he added, “My mother taught me from a young age that a gentleman never allows his date to pay for dinner.”
Date?
“Will you please allow me to take you to dinner tonight?” His smile faltered, as if he was suddenly unsure of what her answer would be, despite the fact that she had asked him first.
Meanwhile, she nodded her head, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically, like some love-stricken teenager. When he gifted her with another heart-stopping smile, she figured making a fool of herself was worth it.
“Shall we?” Rome offered her his arm, and she happily took it.
He led her two blocks down and pointed out a small and quite charming place, with a green awning over the entrance, called Trattoria di Bellezza. “Say 6:30 over there?”
She had eaten there before, alone, and found the food to be absolutely amazing. She told him so. Excited butterflies fluttered around in her belly at being able to eat there with him.
He cupped her cheek while leaning in to kiss the other. The touch of his soft lips on her skin caused her entire body to ignite with need. What could his touch, his kiss, do to other parts of her body, she wondered.
“I’ll see you soon,” he said after he pulled back and released her, his gaze upon her heated.
Sasha shamelessly ogled his fine jean-clad posterior as we walked away. She could see how well defined his back, shoulders, and arms were through his soaked white t-shirt.
Damn, that man had swagger, she thought.
When he was out of sight, she snapped out of her lust-filled haze and realized her hotel was just up the block.
“Buon pomeriggio, Signorina Francesca,” the concierge called out when she entered the lobby of her hotel.
She almost didn’t answer him, figuring he was talking to someone else, but she recovered quickly. “Buon pomeriggio, Alessandro.” She gave him a wave. “I got caught in the rain,” she added in Italian, laughing off her sodden appearance.
Alessandro simply nodded in understanding. “Succede.” It happens.
She gave him another wave before heading upstairs.
As soon as she shut the door to her room, her hands began to tremble. The full realization of what could have happened had finally hit her. Her legs suddenly felt unsteady, and she sank to the ground. She could feel the onset of a panic attack, but then the image of striking eyes and a killer smile invaded her senses, leaving her heart frantic for other reasons than sheer terror.
She hadn’t had panic attacks since she was a teenager, nor was this by any means her first brush with death, making her wonder why she was having one now. Maybe it was because she’d finally carved a life out for herself away from all the violence, and perhaps the possibilities the sexy stranger enticed her with made her hopeful for the future, something she never bothered to think about. Sh
e knew all too well how easily someone’s future could be snuffed out of existence.
Sasha picked herself up from the floor, decided she would not think at all, about anything, and went to get herself ready for a date with Rome, the gorgeous stranger she owed her life to.
Chapter Two
Rome was waiting for her outside of the restaurant, his face brightening as soon as he spotted her. His gaze traveled up and down her body as she walked toward him, causing one side of his mouth to quirk up. At that moment, she was grateful she managed to pack a little black cocktail dress in her suitcase. Every girl should own one, she figured. Hers was sexy with its lace trim, off-the-shoulder look, fitted on top and flaring out to her mid-thigh. Her three and a half-inch nude-colored strappy heels completed the look. Her bag however…
“You look stunning,” Rome said as soon as she reached him. And then he laughed and jutted his chin out toward her large floral print tote bag. “Is that your suitcase?”
“It’s my life in there,” she said with mirth. It pretty much was, with all the essentials, money, IDs, cell phone, laptop, and notebooks, and this time, she’d remembered to stick her compact umbrella in there as well.
“And you look quite dashing, yourself,” she told him. Gone were the t-shirt and jeans, and as fine as they were on him, he’d replaced them with a crisp, white button-down shirt, the top two buttons undone, and neatly pressed black slacks, adding some suave to his rugged. He also gifted her with one of his amazing smiles again, easily making her go weak in the knees.
The restaurant was full, but luckily there were two tables left, and one of them seated two. She remembered how awkward she had felt eating here alone the last time she had been in Verona. The lights were a little muted, with lit votive candles inside frosted glass, setting the perfect ambience for romance. The larger tables had been filled with families or groups of friends, talking, laughing, much like tonight, while she had been typing away on her laptop or writing notes, all in between delicious bites or sips of wine.
“Buonasera, allora cosa vi porto?” the waiter said when he came over to them to take their order. Good Evening, so what can I bring you? He placed fresh bread on their table and poured oil on a mini plate, which was set in front of each of them, chatting them up in the process. He seemed pleased that Sasha was able to speak fluently in Italian, and he complimented her on her accent. Rome spoke a little, ordering his meal in Italian as well, though the waiter joked good-naturedly that he had to work on his.
The sommelier came by shortly after, leaving the bottle of red wine on the table after he poured each of them a glass. When he left, she and Rome dug into the basket of bread. The smell alone made her mouth water, and the taste of the warm, soft center, dipped in oil, was pure heaven.
“So, what brings you to Italy, Sasha?” Rome asked. “Business or pleasure?”
“Well, I always love coming here, so it’s a little bit of both I guess. I’m a travel writer.”
Rome raised his eyebrows and nodded, seemingly impressed. “Cheers to the famous writer,” he said while raising his glass.
She clinked her glass with his and then took a sip. “Yep, that’s me, Sasha Palmer, famous travel writer extraordinaire.” Shit!
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
He must have read something was the matter on her face. “Nothing.” She waved a hand in the air dismissively.
It wasn’t nothing, though. She had given him a last name, leaving her taken aback by her slip-up. No matter, she thought. It wasn’t as if he would be able to trace her anyway. She freelanced, and the only address her employers ever had on file for her was a P.O. box she never used. She was being paranoid anyway. Even her father’s men never usually knew where she was, which peeved him greatly. And something in her gut was telling her she could trust this man. He did save her life after all.
Steering the conversation over to him, she asked, “So is it business or pleasure for you, Rome?”
“Definitely pleasure.” He smirked, making her cheeks flame in the process. “The pleasure of your company.” He took another sip of wine right after he gave her a devilish wink. “It was actually supposed to be business, but…” he waved a hand in her direction. “I got distracted, and now my business is concluded.”
She wanted to say sorry, but she wasn’t sorry at all. “Will you get in trouble?”
He shook his head. “It’s a family business, and nepotism definitely has its perks. Besides, I haven’t had a vacation in years. I’m definitely due for one.”
“You must be very good at your job to have a city named after you,” she joked.
Rome smiled, but Sasha noticed it didn’t reach his eyes. “What is it that you do?”
“My family manufactures suits,” he answered, his voice monotone. “I was just trying to get a leg up on some competition.” He continued without passion as he talked more about his family owned company. It sounded more like a well-rehearsed speech, and he seemed unhappy in his position.
“You don’t like it.” It wasn’t a question.
The waiter brought over their appetizers and set her tomato and goat cheese soup in front of her, and risotto with black truffle in front of him.
The silence stretched for a bit as they ate, until he finally answered, “No, Sasha. I don’t. Sometimes my job feels like it’s sucking the life out of me.”
“Why don’t you find something else to do then?”
He gave her a sad smile. “If only it were that easy.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t pry.” She also didn’t want to put a damper on the evening talking about a subject he was clearly uncomfortable with, so she changed the subject. “How long are you staying then?”
His playful smirk returned. “How long are you staying?”
“A few days.”
“Hmm.” He paused, looking mockingly thoughtful. “What a coincidence. That’s exactly how long I’m staying.” They both laughed.
She was surprised at how easy their conversation went after that. Instead of picking and prodding at too many personal details, which even without her circumstance, she would hate to do on a first date, they talked about the places they had been to, covered art and literature, and even realized they were both history buffs. They were like any other couple in the room sharing a delicious meal. It all felt so normal. She both longed for and liked this normalcy.
“Sweets for the sweetness,” Rome said as he took the proffered dessert menus.
Sasha was stuffed to the brim, but she’d eat her weight in dessert if it meant spending more time with Rome.
They ordered two desserts to share, a mango sherbet, and a chocolate mousse cake, along with an espresso for him and a cappuccino for her. In her mind, she equated both desserts to being better than the best sex she’d ever had, though she imagined it would certainly not be the case with him.
He drove that point home with his touch alone when he used the pad of his thumb to swipe the chocolate off her lips, and then he brought his finger to his mouth and sucked it clean. Suddenly, she became warm all over, and yet she could feel gooseflesh forming on her bared skin.
He cleared his throat, and she noticed a slight flush appear on his cheeks. Apparently, he was not unaffected by the mood either.
“Do you have plans tomorrow?” he asked
“I am going to check out some touristy sites and a few off the beaten path.” She’d be writing about the locations, atmosphere of the crowds, as well as vendors, and checking out the shops. “I wouldn’t mind company if you’re not opposed to being dragged around all day.”
She nearly choked on her coffee when he said, “There are worse things in this life than being dragged around by you.”
She had no witty comeback.
They walked around a bit after they finished eating. Rome hadn’t been kidding about refusing to let her pay. He wouldn’t even let her leave the tip. In fact, he looked offended by it, and she didn’t offer again that night when they stoppe
d for gelatos.
Sasha didn’t want the evening to end. She had never done the one stand thing, but then again, her body had never reacted to anyone the way it did to him, but only having just one night with him would never be enough. His mark on her already ran deep, and he hadn’t even kissed her yet.
He walked her to the front of her hotel, looking just as reluctant for the evening to end, and then he cupped her face in both hands this time, and kissed her. As soon as their lips met, she opened for him, and he took full advantage. The kiss was slow, their tongues and lips exploring, tasting, causing her heart to thump wildly in her chest. Stabs of desire coursed through her lower belly. She hadn’t even realized she was fisting the front of his shirt until their kiss ended.
“Until tomorrow,” he whispered while still cradling her face. He then skimmed his nose against hers and placed a chaste kiss on her lips, before releasing her.
Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough, she thought as she walked into her lobby alone, feeling his gaze follow her in.
Chapter Three
Sasha and Rome walked hand in hand down the narrow street leading to Casa Di Giulietta. The sky was fortunately clear today of any clouds. Just being in the place that inspired Shakespeare gave her an excited chill, and the gothic style house up close was beautiful, complete with balcony and a statue of Juliet. Naturally, there was someone posing for a picture with their hand on her boob. Someone else was on the balcony shouting, “Wherefore art thou, Romeo?”
“I didn’t know you can go up on the balcony,” Rome remarked. “Go up there and I will serenade you.”
“Romeo didn’t really serenade Juliet. First, he startled her, and then he professed his undying love.” She playfully bumped her hip against his. “We’re going to go inside and take a tour.”
In Fair Brighton Page 1
