Mafia Prince: A Second-Chance Mafia Romance (Moretti Mafia Book 1)

by Lucia Black

  6

  Alessandro

  Alessandro understood how exercise could be a good distraction. Physical activity released endorphins in the brain and made everything feel okay for a while. It gave you something to concentrate on, something to take your whole attention away from whatever you didn’t want to think about. Alessandro understood because he’d been there. He’d tried to escape after that summer with Lorna. He’d run and fought and lifted until he couldn’t breathe. Because if he couldn’t breathe, he wasn’t focusing on her.

  It was the same now for Giovanni, and he could tell. He didn’t want to think about Lorna either, just for entirely different reasons. Alessandro stepped back to avoid a kick, then blocked a punch instinctively. Giovanni sighed and nudged his brother’s elbow to push his arm into the right position for a block.

  “I know,” Alessandro said. He moved in and out of the position a few times to prove he knew it.

  Giovanni raised his eyebrows, amused. “If you know, then why don’t you do it right?

  Alessandro shoved his shoulders, which didn’t do anything except make Giovanni laugh. The gym was warm in the way only a gym could be. Noisy fans spinning with Sisyphean effort, and sweaty bodies radiating heat with every labored exhale. The smell of burning calories and potent deodorant thickened the air and made it more difficult than it should have been to breathe.

  “Come on,” Giovanni took a ready stance. “Again.” They sparred once more, and Alessandro did the block correctly. Giovanni nodded and ran a hand through his hair. “Better. Again.” He threw another punch and Alessandro blocked. After four more times, Alessandro wandered to the edge of the mat to find his water bottle. As he drank, he noticed Giovanni focused on a group of children running in circles on the mats to one side. His mouth curled up in a half-smile, his eyes were soft with a sort of gentle admiration.

  Alessandro followed his gaze to the children’s instructor, Delilah. Her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, but her plum-colored leggings were tighter. She seemed at ease with the children, encouraging them with a chipper tone and a wide smile, clapping her hands and matching their energy level. But Alessandro knew she could be a tough instructor. She didn’t go easy on Giovanni. He often swore with a fond smile that she liked to see him suffer.

  Alessandro recognized the look on his brother’s face. It was the same one he wore when he looked at Lorna. He’d suspected for a while. Alessandro wondered how difficult this must be for him as well. He never complained, always faced his duty with resolute confidence. He clearly cared about Delilah, but he would push that aside and marry a woman he didn’t know, one that tolerated him at best, and could make his life a living hell at worst. There was so much pressure on Giovanni to be the perfect heir, and he never complained, but Alessandro felt for him.

  He walked up and slugged his shoulder playfully. “Ready for more?”

  Giovanni snapped out of his Delilah-induced trance and cracked his knuckles intimidatingly. “Bring it on.”

  They fought, each trying to surprise the other and mostly failing. They knew each other well enough to anticipate the next move. Giovanni ducked away from a lunge and tsked at his brother. “Sloppy.”

  Alessandro blocked a punch successfully and returned it to Giovanni’s shoulder. “Speak for yourself.”

  Giovanni’s eyes narrowed, and he smirked. When Alessandro came in, his brother used Alessandro’s momentum to flip him onto his back. “I’ll let my skills speak for me,” he grinned and looked over at Delilah who threw him a thumbs up. He practically glowed in her mute praise.

  The bastard was showing off for her. Alessandro stood up and brushed himself off. He offered his hand. “Good game.” As soon as Giovanni took it, Alessandro threw him to the ground. But he hardly got a chance to smirk before Giovanni pulled him down and shoved a knee in his back with his arm twisted to near dislocation. Alessandro tapped out. “Jesus, Gio.” He rubbed his shoulder when Giovanni let him up. “Take a joke.” But they were both smiling.

  Giovanni sat cross-legged on the mat in front of his brother and reached for his water bottle. “Delilah’s got a new class for toddlers. Beginning gymnastics. They do little somersaults and stuff. It’s sort of endearing to watch her interact with them.”

  “Gonna put your kids in gymnastics someday?” Alessandro teased, then realized what that implied. Gio was supposed to marry Lorna in a month, and any kids he had would be hers. All the joy in Giovanni’s face faded, and Alessandro regretted ever opening his mouth. Gio had always wanted kids, and Alessandro always thought he’d be a good father, certainly better than theirs. But Lorna threw a wrench in all of that. Gio wanted a nice little family with a dog and a house with a white picket fence. The proverbial American dream. He wanted to keep them totally separate from the business, totally safe, totally protected. But Lorna was already as much a part of the business as he was, and she wouldn’t step away from that. Alessandro knew how those shattered dreams must hurt his brother. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Giovanni spoke.

  “When you picked her up, did she seem . . .” he trailed off, at a loss. “Does she want this?”

  Alessandro shook his head. “No. She doesn’t want this any more than you do.” But she wouldn’t complain either. They were alike in that way. They took whatever was handed to them and made the most of it. They were both really good at that. But that wasn’t a basis for a marriage.

  Giovanni tossed his water bottle between his hands. “I’m supposed to take her on a date tonight after we have dinner at the house,” he said with the same enthusiasm as a person speaking about going to the dentist. Alessandro didn’t know how he was supposed to respond to that, so he didn’t. Giovanni held his water bottle in both hands and looked up at his brother. “I don’t even know where to take her.”

  Alessandro hummed. What could he say? That it didn’t matter where he took her, he would never win her heart? That he could marry her, but she would always belong to Alessandro? He couldn’t.

  “You know her, right?” Giovanni asked. “Where would you take her?”

  Alessandro shifted on the mat to think about it. Lorna liked activity, competition, trying new things. Alessandro might take her kayaking, or rock climbing. Go out of town and go white-water rafting. He might take her to a science museum where they would show each other up on who knew more or see who could find the most ridiculous artifact to use as a weapon. He might take her to an amusement park and hold her hand in the front seat on every rollercoaster to listen to her scream.

  “You should take her to a movie,” he said. “That new musical one. She loves music.”

  “Thanks.” Giovanni nodded importantly, his gaze shifting to watch Delilah once more.

  The family had heard, of course, how she studied music and art in undergrad. They were aware of her talent and her accomplishments. And every time she was brought up, Alessandro had to keep quiet. What they hadn’t heard was that Lorna and Alessandro shared a bed for a summer. That he knew the curves of her body, and the way her legs shook when she came. He knew how she chewed her lip when she sketched, how she stabbed her food with her fork just a little too forcefully when she was wound up, and how beautifully and passionately she played the piano when she needed to pour her emotions out.

  She would hate that movie. He almost felt bad for telling Giovanni to take her. She liked psychological thrillers, not cheesy movie musicals, and sitting in a room staring at a screen instead of talking to each other constituted the worst date ever for two strangers who were supposed to get married in a month. He almost felt bad. Almost.

  7

  Lorna

  Lorna didn’t hate movie theaters. She didn’t hate popcorn and big cups of soda and boxes of milk duds. She didn’t hate huge screens and booming sound effects that drew her into the larger-than-life world of someone’s imagination. She didn’t even hate Giovanni sitting next to her sharing her popcorn.

  But Lorna hated movie musicals.

  She knew the plot bef
ore she even sat down. Guy gets girl or girl gets guy after some ridiculous miscommunication. Spontaneously bursting into song solved or created all their problems and dance breaks counted as character development. Everything was overacted, and it felt like every problem in the plot could be solved if the characters weren’t complete idiots. And why did they have to sing?

  Giovanni didn’t seem to be enjoying himself any more than she was, which begged the question, why were they even there? He ate his popcorn neatly, one piece at a time while Lorna shoved a whole handful into her mouth. Flashing lights from the screen highlighted his sharp jaw, strong nose, high cheeks. He wore jeans, a designer t-shirt, and a casual jacket zipped halfway. She almost hadn’t recognized him without an expensive suit. But that was unfair of her. She needed to start thinking of Giovanni as a three-dimensional person instead of Alessandro’s cardboard-cut-out brother.

  He winced at a particularly high note at the climactic moment of the latest spontaneous musical number. Lorna sighed. There was no reason for them both to suffer through this. Except that if they didn’t, they’d have to actually talk to each other.

  Lorna could deal with her completely neutral feelings toward Giovanni. She could tell he didn’t want this any more than she did, and it wasn’t his fault. She didn’t resent him. She did actually respect him. And while that might not have been the ideal basis for a marriage, it was better than disliking him. And what if when she got to know him, she didn’t like him? She couldn’t live like that. So it was better to not know.

  Their hands brushed in the popcorn bowl. No sparks flew, no jolt of any sort of emotion other than ‘whoops’ flashed across Lorna’s mind. They both whispered apologies, and like a gentleman, he let her grab a handful of popcorn first.

  She was disappointed if she were being honest with herself. It would all be easier if there had been some magic spark between them. Like the couple in the movie who barely went on any sort of date but were madly in love the moment they saw each other. If that were the case, every aspect of Lorna’s life would be easier. Telling Alessandro to fuck off would be a breeze. Merging the two families into one unrivaled organization would be a piece of cake.

  The leading lady started crying on the screen over something so minute, Lorna couldn’t even remember what it was. She couldn’t hide her sigh and eye-roll. Giovanni noticed and leaned over just close enough for her to hear him whisper, “Do you want to leave?” Giovanni got points for being respectful and for not being a creep. He could have pressed his lips right to her ear like Alessandro would have. But she and Giovanni didn’t have that kind of rapport, and Mrs. Moretti didn’t raise any assholes. Mostly.

  She picked up her bag and nodded. They snuck out of the theater while every character on screen cried and looked out rain-streaked windows longingly.

  Giovanni apologized on their way out of the theater. “I don’t really like those kinds of movies.”

  Lorna shook her head. “Neither do I.”

  “I thought you liked music?” He probably didn’t intend it as a question, but that’s how it came out.

  Lorna swung her bag onto her shoulder. “I do. I love music. I just don’t like musicals.”

  They stopped at Giovanni’s sharp, but understated sports car. He forced a smile that didn’t remotely reach his eyes. “Guess that’s something we have in common.”

  Lorna looked at him. “You don’t have to pretend.”

  He relaxed for the first time the whole evening. They took their seats in the car and he leaned against the steering wheel. “I don’t want you to take it personally.” He looked up at her with genuine concern. “I mean—”

  She held up a hand to stop him, laughing lightly. “No. I get it.”

  They fell into silence as he drove her home. Not comfortable, but not uncomfortable. He took a breath like he was going to speak a few times before he actually did. “I think my father is right and we should keep . . . dating.” He didn’t seem to like the word. “It’s a pretty big jump to go from barely acquainted to married, so if we were at least”—he searched for the word and stopped at a light. “Friendly?”

  “Yeah. Friendly sounds good.” She felt bad because she didn’t dislike him, but she would never love him. But he was right, and maybe they could be friends. That would be better than nothing. The rest of the drive was silent. He pulled up to her building to drop her off and offered to walk with her to her apartment.

  “Here is fine, honestly. My doorman is right there,” she said, and he nodded. She gave a little wave as she walked into the building and he drove away.

  “Ms. Bianchi,” the doorman greeted her.

  “Thanks, Fred,” she said in return, smiling at him and walking inside to the elevator.

  As soon as the doors shut, she let the fake smile on her face fall away. This was a disaster. And it was her life.

  Her heels clacked on the floor, echoing in the silent hallway. She let herself into her apartment, ready to flop onto the couch and watch some over-dramatized nonsensical crime show to escape it all. But as soon as she looked up, she let out a startled shriek.

  Alessandro reclined against the couch cushions; feet propped up on the coffee table like he belonged there. One hand behind his head had his arm straining the seams of his button-up shirt. Apparently, he still liked clothes a touch on the snug side to make his muscles look bigger. Not that they really needed the assistance. He turned his head to look at her, dripping sex appeal.

  “Welcome home,” he said. She stood there speechless for a moment. She knew in the back of her mind that he had the ability to break into places, but she hadn’t considered the fact that he would invade her space like this. He smirked and stretched on the couch, cat-like and proud. “I told you I’d see you tonight.”

  “What the fuck are you doing here? Get out of my apartment,” she ordered. He shouldn’t be there. Not only was it enormously improper while she was engaged to his brother, it was exceedingly impolite because he hadn’t been invited. Furthermore, it was terribly inconsiderate since she wasn’t mentally prepared for it.

  He took his feet off the coffee table and leaned forward on the couch. “No, I don’t think I will.”

  Lorna gritted her teeth and pointed to the door. “Get off my fucking sofa and march your sorry ass out the door.”

  He raised his eyebrows and tilted his chin in mock innocence. “Or what?”

  Lorna slammed her purse on a side table, shaking the lamp. “Why are you here, huh?” she demanded. “What do you want?”

  He shrugged helplessly and looked at her with dark eyes shining in the low light. “You.” That hung in the air for a moment before a slow smirk spread across his face. “I thought I made that obvious.”

  Lorna could have strangled him. She told herself that the reason she didn’t was the strain it would put on her relationship with her future in-laws. He had made it obvious. He had made it unfortunately obvious. “I’m going to marry your brother.”

  “But you don’t want to,” he said thoughtfully, and tapped his lip with one finger.

  She didn’t want to. But he didn’t have the right to point that out. “Leave. Before I call my guards.”

  He actually laughed. Smacked his thighs and ducked his head down before looking up at her. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone, holding it up and offering it to her. “Here. Go ahead. Use mine. I know Logan and the rest of them live across the hall. Go ahead.” He waited for her to respond, but she couldn’t. “You won’t call your guards because you don’t want anyone to know I was here.”

  Her heart leapt into her throat. Damn him for being right. He had no reason to be here, and she had no desire to explain their past. “Go fuck yourself,” she hissed. He raised his eyebrows, then leaned back on the couch and ran his tongue over his teeth before he settled a hand between his legs to palm himself through his jeans. Insufferable. Lorna raised both fists to her forehead to fend off her impending headache. “Get. Out.”

  He sighed languidly a
nd raised his hands in surrender. “Make up your mind, princess.”

  “I am not your princess. You have to stop calling me that. I am going to marry Giovanni.” She hated how he got under her skin and made her heart beat a little too fast. He’d been hot before, but he’d grown up. His jawline was more prominent, his body and face more filled out, his muscles thicker. She knew what he could do back then. What he did to her, and how it made her feel. Now he was toxically seductive, and she swallowed his bait—hook, line, and sinker.

  He rose to his feet. “You keep saying that like if you don’t remind yourself, you might forget.”

  “You keep denying it like it won’t happen.” She stood tall and defiant. He was right, but so was she. There were certain truths that couldn’t be avoided. Her marriage to Giovanni was one of those. Denying it didn’t make it better. She’d tried that for a decade. It didn’t work. “A month from now, I will walk down the aisle—”

  “The only way you’ll walk down that aisle is if I’m standing at the end of it.”

  Silence hung around them, thick as fog. He seemed just as surprised as she was. But he’d sounded so sure. She had no doubt he meant it. Perhaps he hadn’t meant to say it, perhaps he hadn’t even quite put the thought to words in his own mind.

  “You don’t mean that.” Her soft voice shattered the silence and wiped the shock from his face. “You’re not serious.”