by Lucia Black
“Tony’s,” Alessandro asserted.
Mrs. Moretti’s hand flew to cover her heart. “Tony’s?”
Lorna ping-ponged between them, not sure who Tony was or why he had caused Giovanni, usually so calm and collected, to rush out of the house without so much as a goodbye.
“Arson?” Don Moretti asked, a threat behind his voice.
“I don’t know.” Alessandro stood up. “Gio—”
Don Moretti waved a hand dismissively. “He knows what he’s doing.”
Antonio stepped toward the door. “I’ll bring some guys.”
Mrs. Moretti looked a bit panicked. “Is it that bad?”
“Better safe than sorry.” Antonio and Alessandro said at the same time in freaky twin synchronization. The eerie atmosphere chilled Lorna. She felt like such an outsider. A foreigner witnessing some strange native ritual in a language beyond comprehension. She gripped the chair beneath her to anchor her to something, but she didn’t dare speak and disrupt whatever was going on because it was obviously important.
“Go. Be safe,” Mrs. Moretti said quickly, standing up and walking to her sons.
“We will, Ma,” Antonio responded, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “We’ll call you.” He left the room at a nod from his father, who had started dialing on his phone.
“I’m so sorry, dear.” Mrs. Moretti seemed to suddenly remember Lorna’s existence. “This is . . . well, it’s not the norm. I—”
Don Moretti snapped his fingers at Alessandro while lifting his phone to his ear and jabbed a thumb at Lorna then pointed a finger toward the door.
Alessandro nodded his understanding and crossed the table to lift Lorna from her seat by the arm. “You need to go. I’ll walk you to the car,” he informed her. As if she couldn’t tell.
She didn’t hear what Don Moretti said into the phone because her heart pounded in her ears too loudly when Alessandro touched her. He closed the door to the dining room as soon as they were on the other side of it.
“What is going on?” Lorna demanded. She’d put together that some place called Tony’s was on fire and that was a bad thing. But she still had a lot of blanks to fill in.
Alessandro took a breath and didn’t let go of her arm. “Tony’s is on fire.”
“Yes, I figured that much, thank you,” she snapped. “What is Tony’s?”
He made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat and squeezed her arm tighter. “Tony’s is a boxing gym where we all work out.”
A gym? All this fuss over a gym? “A gym is on fire, and the entire Moretti family goes nuts about it?” She pulled her arm out of his grip. “That seems disproportionate, don’t you think?”
“You wouldn’t understand.” Something was bothering him. More than the usual stick up his ass.
She laughed. “It must be built on a gold mine or have diamond in the walls, because—”
“Lorna.” He stopped her and looked her in the eyes, and it took her breath away. She’d been doing her best not to look at him all night. He knew how to drive her crazy, how she thought he looked good in blue, and she could feel the heat of his gaze for most of dinner. But she knew if she let him get to her, she couldn’t keep up her professional and polite act. And the last thing she needed was to lose her composure over Alessandro in front of all the Morettis, including her future father-in-law.
Now she allowed herself to look at him. To take in the strong lines of his face, the tasteful dark stubble over his chin, the feverish heat behind his eyes. He was beautiful and she couldn’t deny that. No one could, with his broad shoulders and romantic curls swept to one side. This was the face she saw when she closed her eyes at night. The one that tortured her dreams.
“Lorna,” he repeated, sounding exhausted. “It’s not just the gym.”
“Obviously.” She shook her head slightly. “Then what is it?” He stepped away and opened the door for her. She didn’t move. She wasn’t about to let him tease her with information too. “What is it?”
He sighed. “Listen, princess, we love having you around and all, but it’s time for you to go home.” There was a hard edge to his voice. One that he didn’t use with her, but it was clear what it meant.
That part clicked. This was business. This was a family matter, and she was intruding. She nodded once at Alessandro and walked out the door, turning her head slightly and looking at him from the corner of her eye as she exited. “Not your princess.”
She walked to the car where her driver waited, hearing the door shut behind her. Settling in the back seat, she couldn’t help but think—hope—that maybe whatever was happening with Tony’s gym would delay the wedding. After all, business matters got in the way of life all the time.
10
Alessandro
Alessandro drifted in a daze. He hadn’t slept at all. Hadn’t even laid down. His father’s voice sounded like it came through water. Fuzzy and distorted. Not quite real. Giovanni sat next to him, nudging, or pinching him when it looked like Alessandro might crash.
It had been a long night. He could still feel the heat of the fire on his skin, hear the firetruck sirens ringing in his ears. Luca wasn’t there to cool Giovanni with his logical frankness, so Alessandro stepped up to be a calming presence. Giovanni did not calm down no matter how many times Alessandro said freaking out would only make matters worse. That exploding wouldn’t help anyone. No matter how many times he repeated that it was clear the fire was a message to the Morettis—and not meant to hurt Delilah—Giovanni couldn’t accept it. He couldn’t see past his anger, or his fear of losing her.
Smoke still clogged his lungs and panic clutched at the edges of his chest, a moment away from reclaiming him. His throat felt sore and scratchy, like he’d been screaming all night. Dust motes swirled in front of his father’s desk in the early morning sunlight. A pine-scented air freshener in the corner did its best to cut through the smell of burning wood and melting plastic that still filled Alessandro’s nose.
“No one threatens me or my family and gets away with it.” The danger in his father’s voice cut through some of Alessandro’s haze. He focused on his father past the dust particles dancing in the light. The severity on his face made the panic in Alessandro’s chest grip a little tighter. His father turned a charred brick over in his hands, reading the white painted letters for the hundredth time that morning. Nothing elaborate. A simple threat. A message to Bruno Moretti.
“I’ll find out who did it.” Giovanni’s hands clenched the fabric of his dirt-and-smoke-streaked pants. The look on his face promised death to whoever was at fault.
“Like hell you will.” His father narrowed his eyes. “I want Alessandro to deal with this.”
Alessandro blinked, unsure if he had faded in and out again and missed something else important. Giovanni’s face said he had heard correctly, and that he plainly disagreed. Alessandro swallowed around the lingering bitter taste of smoke. “Why me?” he asked respectfully.
His father looked between them. “Giovanni is getting married in less than a month.” Giovanni’s body bristled, and he felt could feel the tension radiating off him. Their father continued, staring him down. “I want you to take Lorna out of town for a while.”
Giovanni hissed a breath through his teeth. Alessandro put a hand on his brother’s arm. Last night, his brothers held him back as the flames raged, bringing Tony’s to the ground. They didn’t question it for one second as they silently dug through smoldering bricks searching for any sign. The only word Gio said was Delilah. Just as it was last night, so it was still the case that Lorna was the furthest thing from the top of his priorities.
It wasn’t until Giovanni’s phone rang. He saw the caller ID and answered, finding out that Delilah and her father, Tony, were fine. Giovanni had covered his mouth with one hand, cradled the phone like the most precious treasure, and sank to his knees in the ashes of the place where he had fallen in love. Flashing red lights sparkled off the tears that streaked soot down Giovanni’s sharp chee
ks. He could claim that the smoke irritated his eyes, but Alessandro recognized love when he saw it. It was the only beauty in the chaos of the night. The gym was gone. The bones of the structure scattered on top of each other where they fell, marred and blackened by flame. Memories, afternoons, a lifetime of laughter shared with his brothers, gone up in smoke.
“Yes, sir,” Giovanni agreed, wisely.
His father nodded. “Alessandro, I want you to track down the arsonist and find out who sent them, and why they thought threatening me was a good idea.”
Alessandro felt himself bow his head and say “Yes, sir.”
His father waited a moment, then shooed them both away. “Go.”
Alessandro and Giovanni stood and left the office. As soon as the door was closed and they were down the hall, Giovanni’s hand landed on Alessandro’s shoulder. “I can’t do it.”
“Can’t do what?” Exhaustion clouded the edges of Alessandro’s thoughts. Physical exhaustion, sure, but more mental and emotional exhaustion from trying to be the beacon of calm in the chaos of the fire, from trying to hold Giovanni together until he found out that Delilah was okay, from the sheer emotional rollercoaster of finding out their safe space, their haven, had become a target. And so had their family.
Giovanni looked at him intently and squeezed his shoulder. “I can’t leave with Lorna. I can’t. Not when Delilah might get caught in the crossfire.” His voice was hard and unmoving. “I know it’s . . . I know it’s not what is supposed to happen, but Delilah—”
“I know. I’ve known for a while.” Alessandro clapped his hand over his brother’s shoulder so they held each other up.
“You didn’t say anything,” Giovanni said, though his tone was more of a question.
“Didn’t think I needed to. You love who you love. What is there to say?” Alessandro looked at his brother, and Giovanni nodded a tightlipped acknowledgement before Alessandro continued. “Look, to be honest, I would rather lock myself in a room with an angry Lorna for the rest of my life than let you down and fail to protect Delilah.”
“I need you to swap with me.” Giovanni stared at him, a silent exchange. They knew what they were doing. It was dangerous territory, in more ways than one.
“Swap? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Alessandro pulled his mouth into a weary smile. “Dad told me to take Lorna to safety and lie low while you get to the bottom of this.”
Giovanni pulled his brother’s head to his shoulder and wrapped his other arm around him. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you.”
Alessandro hugged him back. He smelled like heavy smoke and his face was still streaked with soot, but it didn’t matter. He would have traded tasks even if he didn’t like Lorna. Even if he didn’t love her. Even if she meant nothing to him. Because Giovanni needed him, and he would do anything for his brothers. It just so happened that Lorna meant a great deal to him, and he couldn’t have come up with a better way to have her to himself.
They clapped each other on the back, walking out of their parents’ home with their secret pact and not another word spoken.
The coffee Alessandro chugged on the way to his apartment barely kept him awake. Once he got home, he nearly fell asleep in the shower. He felt like a zombie as he flipped through shirts and finally decided on something blue. It was Lorna’s favorite color on him, and she probably wouldn’t be thrilled with the situation. He needed whatever tools he could use to soften the blow.
When he arrived at her apartment and knocked on the door, he half expected she wouldn’t open it. That they’d have a shouting match through the door about his father’s orders. But she did answer. Albeit with a scowl that could sour milk.
“Good morning, princess.” He took a drink of his third cup of coffee and appraised her. Her hair was pulled back in a neat French twist with little curls framing her face. He didn’t think she had plans for the day, but she was still dressed in a matching cobalt blazer and skirt with a ruffly top underneath. Her shiny lip gloss accentuated her frown.
Her eyes said, “How dare you show your face here again?” but her mouth said, “What do you want?”
He’d now consumed enough coffee that he could smile broadly at her. “I’m here to pick you up. We’re leaving town for a little while.”
Lorna stared at him. “Why on God’s green earth would I go anywhere with you?”
He sighed. “The fire last night.” Again, he saw the angry burning red and gold against a black sky, felt the smoke clogging his throat, the heat against his skin. Heard the sirens and his brothers’ shouting. “It was a message. A warning. We’re playing it safe.”
She crossed her arms. “You came to babysit me?”
“No.” Alessandro leaned against the doorframe, bringing his face close to hers. “My father sent me to make sure you’re safe.” He dragged the back of a finger over her cheek. “You are his most valuable asset right now.”
She swatted his hand away and stepped backward inside her apartment. He followed and closed the door behind him. She made a face and spoke in the tone reserved for very young children or very small puppies. “Lil’ baby Lorna can’t deal with scary arsonists. It’s not like she owned Los Angeles for years or anything. She needs big, tough Alessandro to come defend her from the bad men.” She rolled her eyes. “Ich.”
Alessandro hadn’t had enough coffee to combat that in kind. He raised his eyebrows earnestly. “Lorna, this is serious.”
Exasperated, she flopped onto her couch longways with her feet propped up on the armrest. It caused her skirt to ride up a little and expose a tempting few inches of thigh. “What’s the deal with this gym?”
He made his way carefully to the armchair across from the couch. “Tony’s was our safe haven. We went almost every day as kids. They had classes. We all trained there.”
Memories of his brothers pushing each other on the mats, racing around the gym, trying to lift weights larger than they were, flitted across his mind. He and Antonio hiding Luca’s shoes. Giovanni dumping his water bottle over Alessandro’s head. Luca always pushing Giovanni into Delilah whenever he could, knowing he had a crush on her. Alessandro and Antonio wearing matching clothes and trying to perform routines in perfect unison or claiming ‘twin powers’ and reading each other’s minds which never quite worked out. As they grew up, they worked out their aggressions on those worn blue mats. They shared secrets, spoke openly with each other, and learned how to win, how to lose, how to get up, brush themselves off, and keep going.
Alessandro realized he was staring into space and blinked to focus back on Lorna. “It raised us as much as our parents did. It was more than a gym, it was—” he cut himself off before he said home. “It was somewhere we were safe.” Lorna didn’t look impressed. He sighed. “The owner and his daughter, they’re important to us. An attack on Tony’s is an attack on our family, and the person that did this knows that, and we can’t let it slide.”
She sat up and crossed her legs, just shy of Basic Instinct. “So I have to be hidden away for a while because I’m marrying Don Moretti’s son. Why isn’t my fiancé hiding with me?”
“Do you want your fiancé to be hiding with you?” he challenged, reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone. It was a bold move, but he felt like he had the right hand.
Silence.
“That’s what I thought.” Alessandro stood. “Pack for a few days.”
“I don’t need to go into hiding,” she stated. “You said so yourself, I could take down someone three times my size.”
“I’d like to see you use marital arts on a fire or a bullet.” He finished his coffee and tossed the empty cup in her garbage. “This is for your safety.”
She sprang to her feet indignantly. “That’s why I have my own security detail.”
He leveled a look at her that was more honest than he’d been since she got back. On his face, he wore his weariness, his worry, his apprehension, his grief, and his desire for her to kiss away all the pain.
Whatever argument she was going to throw at him died on her lips. She threw him a dissatisfied frown and went to pack. He leaned against her counter and decided to use her Keurig. He needed more coffee for the long drive. She appeared with a suitcase as he was taking his first scalding sip.
“Ready?” he asked.
“I don’t recall giving you permission to use my appliances.” She dropped the suitcase in front of him. In response, he took another long drink, ignoring the way it burned his tongue, and picked up her suitcase like a proper gentleman. They walked in silence to the car where Alessandro had a thermos of coffee waiting.
11
Lorna
Alessandro didn’t drive recklessly, per se, but the longer they spent on the highway, the more Lorna wanted one of those passenger side brakes like they have in the cars for driving students. He swerved around a minivan only speeding ten miles an hour over the speed limit and Lorna clasped her hands together in her lap. They’d been driving for two hours and were solidly upstate. She snuck a glance at him. He gripped the steering wheel loosely with one hand, the veins and tendons prominent through the skin as the light filtered through the windshield. His expression was unreadable, apparently focused on the road ahead. But he nearly plowed through the car in front of him, only slowing down when Lorna faked a cough. He was distracted. And not by Lorna, which was new to her.
“Are we there yet?” she tried to bait him when he took an exit, but he was a million miles away, and merely grunted in response. It wasn’t that she really wanted to have a conversation, but she did want some reaction. It wasn’t fair that he could get to her just by being in close proximity, and he seemed totally unaffected. She fiddled with the hem of her skirt again, restless.
“If you don’t stop that, I will lose my self-control, and I don’t think that’s what you want.” His low voice startled her into lifting her hands from her thighs to cross them over her chest. She’d wanted a reaction, but now that she got one, she didn’t like it.
