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

by Lucia Black

  Lorna returned in a bathrobe with her hair wrapped up in her towel. Alessandro didn’t wait for her to throw some insult at him. He closed himself in the bathroom and found old shampoo bottles and bar soap in the linen closet. He scrubbed the lingering smoke off his skin, wrung it out of his hair. He didn’t mind the lukewarm water. Maybe it would cool some of his anger.

  He realized after he shut the water off that he hadn’t brought a change of clothes with him. He looked in the mirror and sighed at himself. His overall mood matched his face. His eyes were swollen and dark from lack of sleep. He rubbed the heels of his palms into them and wrapped the towel around his waist.

  He walked into the room to see Lorna was already in bed, but not asleep. He stopped under the scrutiny of her gaze and subconsciously puffed his chest. Her honey-brown eyes traced over his skin, and he loved it. Hunger lurked behind her attempt to look blasé. A lousy attempt because she was obviously impressed. She had every reason to be. Alessandro had worked hard in the ten years since she’d last seen him shirtless. He’d filled out a little, matured, grown into his body. Surely, she could appreciate that.

  Yet, neither said anything. They had a fragile truce made from necessity, and either of them acknowledging their attraction would shatter it. He couldn’t wink at her or take a suggestive pose. He couldn’t acknowledge how easy it would be to drop the towel and climb into bed with her. He couldn’t ask her if she would like it if he did. Whatever her answer, it would ruin everything. One of them would end up on the couch, and there would be resentment.

  Alessandro knew that, so he said nothing and turned away to put on some sweats and a t-shirt. He climbed carefully into bed on the other side and turned off the lamp, wrapping them in velvet darkness and continued silence.

  As he laid motionless, waiting for sleep, it became apparent it wouldn’t come. He still saw fire every time he closed his eyes. Could still see the sheer panic on Gio’s face—a face that was usually so composed and professional. The utter helplessness in his gaze when he thought he’d lost Delilah. He still saw Antonio, covered in soot, holding a brick with trembling, angry hands. He still felt smoke choking his lungs, heard sirens, and felt the heat of the flames.

  He rolled over in place, trying to stay as far from Lorna as he could. Because he could tell himself that she was hot and there was just something about her that made him want to fuck her brains out, but if he was honest, he still loved her. He wanted to protect her. He didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable. He wanted her to trust him and rely on him. He didn’t want to cross a boundary he couldn’t come back from. Lorna deserved all the stars in the sky, and he would still bring her the moon if she asked him.

  He shifted again, trying to get comfortable, and accidentally touched her hand. Before she could pull hers away, he grabbed it and held on. He wouldn’t push her past that, but when he held her hand, he smelled lilac instead of burning memories, and saw golden, sun-drenched afternoons instead of crumbled victories.

  He held her hand because he needed to. He needed her. Usually it was the other way around. He held her hand to comfort or reassure her. Maybe she wouldn’t see this as the vulnerability it was. She would think it was just more flirting. She might lay into him for it tomorrow, but tonight she allowed it. And he would rather face the fire in her soul than the fire that burned behind his eyelids any day.

  It was in that comfort that sleep found him through the familiar warmth of Lorna’s hand in his.

  13

  Lorna

  Lorna woke up feeling cold, with itchy eyes and a runny nose. She sat up in an empty bed and noticed the window had been cracked to let in the cool night air. She stumbled over to close it, which barely dampened the noisy birdsong that must have awakened her.

  She rubbed her eyes. Her seasonal allergies weren’t usually this bad. There must have been something blooming out here that didn’t make it to the city. She’d complain about it later when she found Alessandro. She made her way to the dresser, trying to remember which one she put her clothes in. The top drawer had Alessandro’s shirts, folded, but carelessly thrown in no particular order. It was so like him, the Alessandro she knew from school, and the one she spent a summer with when they were eighteen. Careless, but not. Lazy, but not where it mattered.

  The second drawer was Alessandro’s pants. The third was Lorna’s clothes, laid out in pre-planned outfits to make things easier for her. All casual, all comfortable. She chose a dark green shirt and black leggings.

  Alessandro was up rather early for looking like he hadn’t slept in two days. She could tell he was running on caffeine and not much else. She hoped she wasn’t the reason he was already awake. Not that she wanted to wake up with him, just that if he were still asleep, he might be less grouchy. And it would be easier to complain to him if he were here.

  She walked downstairs. Luca and Caroline sat in the living room, Luca focused intently on scrolling through his phone, Caroline picking at a plate of eggs, completely ignoring each other. Alessandro stood leaned against the kitchen counter eating a bowl of cereal. He didn’t look as dead on his feet as yesterday, but he still looked tired. He wore a flannel shirt half-tucked into dark jeans. He fit right into the cabin aesthetic. Lumberjack chic. Lorna acknowledged him with a nod and started opening cabinets to find something edible.

  “Good morning,” Alessandro said politely. She hummed a response and pulled down a box of granola bars. She didn’t love artificial cherry flavor, but it would do. Alessandro set his bowl on the counter. “Did you sleep okay?” It was almost an apology.

  She shrugged. “Fine.” She ripped open the box. “Did you sleep at all?”

  He didn’t look away, something soft around his eyes that she hadn’t seen since she came back to New York. “Yes,” he spoke quietly. “Thank you.” His gratitude was conveniently ambiguous. He could be thanking her for asking, or thanking her for sharing his bed without making a huge deal about it, or for holding his hand all night. Probably some combination of the three.

  She opened a granola bar. “Yeah.” It tasted like fake cherry and she didn’t like it, but she ate it anyway. The silence between them was heavy. Lorna tossed the granola bar wrapper and looked around. “What is there to do here?” she wondered.

  Alessandro let out a long breath. “Not much.”

  She’d figured that much out. The oppressive silence between Luca and Caroline in the sitting room hung over the whole house like a dark cloud. The ticking of the clock was torturous. The sounds of Caroline’s foot as she bounced her leg over and over. Someone was breathing slightly louder than everyone else.

  She couldn’t stand it. “I’m going for a run,” she announced.

  “I’m going with you,” Alessandro said. “Let me change.”

  She gave him a hard look, but he looked pointed at his brother on the sofa and back at Lorna. His message was clear. He didn’t want to be stuck in the middle of that any more than she did. She rolled her eyes and walked out the door to wait for him.

  The spring air felt nice in her lungs, sharp and clean, unlike the air in L.A. or New York City. The sun was already high overhead, peeking through wispy clouds. The ground lay thick with flower petals fallen from the blooming trees, some new and white, some trampled into the soft earth by deer and rabbits. Spring was supposed to be a time for rebirth, for new beginnings. But Alessandro’s shadow in the corner of her eye hung like a weight on her soul.

  She looked out at the grassy knoll surrounded by tress. “I assume you know some paths.” She looked at Alessandro. He’d changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt.

  The sunlight reflected golden off his skin and set his dark hair ablaze with heavenly fire. He smiled. “Yeah. I used to.” He started jogging, and she followed him to a deer path entrance to the woods. The sunlight through the leaves cast a jade light over everything and made the very air seem alive. The forest smelled green and growing, full of life. She breathed deeply as she jogged, hoping to cleanse herself in the purity of the atmos
phere. Her thoughts about her fiancé and her soon to be brother-in-law were not so pure, and if she could wish away her feelings at a magical well in these woods, she’d do it.

  Watching Alessandro run in front of her did not help matters. His broad shoulders bounced lightly, throwing colored light off his shirt. And his pants hugged his hips in a way that wouldn’t let Lorna forget that she knew what he looked like without them. Or had ten years ago. Was his ass the same as it had been?

  “There’s a cool tree up here.” His voice pulled her thoughts from his posterior. She ran beside him so she didn’t have to look at him. He pointed up at a tree branch bent at a perfect right angle. “See?” She did see. It was impressive, and she hadn’t seen anything like it. A tree older than bones with a branch bent just perfectly like that didn’t seem natural. “They say Native Americans used to do that to saplings to mark paths.” He answered her unvoiced question.

  “What are you, a nature guide?” She rolled her eyes despite the fact she thought it was interesting. She picked up her pace a bit to run in front of him.

  He matched her, laughing. “Yeah.” He pointed to their left across Lorna’s chest. “Those berries are poisonous.”

  Lorna hummed. “Good, now I know what to make a pie out of.” She sped up again, and so did he. Their eyes met in a silent challenge. They both ran gradually faster, pushing low-hanging branches out of their way and leaping over fallen trees and decomposing stumps.

  Lorna’s heart beat harder with every step and the clear, green air suddenly seemed oppressively hot and humid. Sweat beaded at her temples and ran down the back of her neck. Alessandro faired no better. Little wispy curls stuck to his forehead and his shirt clung to his back.

  A tree directly in front of them. They looked at each other and understood with no words spoken. It was a race. Their hands hit the tree trunk at the same time.

  Lorna tried to hide how out of breath she was, but Alessandro leaned against the tree panting too. “You wanna race, princess?” he asked between breaths.

  Lorna lifted her chin, stubborn pride getting the best of her. “Only if there’s real stakes.” She’d had enough of the bragging rights competitions between them. She needed something solid to hold over his head.

  “Name your prize,” he agreed, an ornery glint in his eyes.

  “If I win, you sleep on the couch.” She didn’t hesitate. It would probably be more comfortable for both of them.

  He hummed and scratched at his stubble. “If I win, I get to kiss you.”

  A shiver ran down her spine, despite the heat. “Fine.” It was gutsy, but she couldn’t back down. And maybe if she were really honest with herself, some small part of her wanted to lose.

  “Back to the cabin. First to touch the front door wins.” He laid out the rules with every challenge in his eyes and every confidence in himself in his posture.

  Lorna took a breath. “Ready . . .” She turned her head to look back the way they came and rolled her shoulders back, ready to sprint. “Go!” She took off as she said it and had an easy lead for a little while, leaping over and ducking under natural obstacles, taking up as much room on the narrow path as she could so he couldn’t pass her.

  The path widened, and he did pass her, body as graceful and lithe as a predatory cat. Her lungs burned and her legs complained, but she pushed onward and passed him again as they broke out of the trees and into the clearing. She could feel him right at her heels, hear his breathing so close. They took the last few yards neck and neck. She thought she could do it. She really thought she could win, just jump up the stairs and dive at the door. But Alessandro had longer arms.

  His hand spread wide over the door underneath hers. She collapsed against the porch railing, grateful for its support for her jelly-limbs. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d run that hard. Her lungs couldn’t hold any air, and her heart thundered in her ears. And she wasn’t the only one. It took a long moment for Alessandro to recover enough to stumble over to her, caging her against the porch railing. He raised a hand to her cheek. “I won.” His voice was sin. All breathy and slightly raspy and low. It sent sparks through Lorna’s body. She told herself it was anger at losing. He was enjoying this too much, a lion playing with his food, and something hot curled in her stomach. Anger, she told herself.

  He caressed her cheek, fucking caressed. No other word could describe the gentle brush of his fingers over her skin, the way the pad of his thumb swept over her bottom lip. He lowered his face to hers slowly, too slowly. She could feel the puff of his breath against her lips, but he was still toying with her.

  “If you’re going to kiss me, hurry up and do it,” she said. “Fucking tease.” He pulled away laughing and stepped back to reach for the door. “What are you doing?” she asked, confused. He wasn’t one to relinquish any rights won in a competition. Especially not with her.

  He smirked. “I said I get to kiss you. I didn’t say when.” He watched her react to that. “I’ll choose when to claim my prize.” He turned and walked through the door.

  It was a threat. One that she should resent. So why did she feel so light and tingly inside? It had to just be exertion from running. And anger because he won. She touched her cheek where he had. That was it. She was angry and still catching her breath.

  14

  Alessandro

  Alessandro stood next to the front window surreptitiously watching Lorna lean over the porch railing on the phone with his father. She gestured sometimes, kicked her feet around while her hand was in the pocket of her khaki shorts, tilted her head. But he couldn’t see her face or tell what she was saying.

  Luca sidled up to him. “So, Lorna . . .” he prompted as though he thought Alessandro would tell him anything.

  “She’s on the phone with dad explaining how she loves it here with Giovanni, and that he’s making her scrambled eggs for breakfast every morning. She just couldn’t be happier,” Alessandro said too brightly.

  Luca watched her through the window for a moment. “Giovanni doesn’t want to marry her either.”

  “I know.” It was obvious to anyone with two eyes and half a brain cell unless he was around their parents. Then he did a good job pretending. He was a better actor than Alessandro, but Alessandro knew him too well to believe his performance, and Giovanni would never degrade him by expecting him to.

  “So that’s why you’re here?” Luca asked and pointed his chin at Lorna through the window. “Because Giovanni doesn’t want to marry her?”

  Alessandro stepped away from the window to wander the room. “You know how he is with Delilah. He wants to protect her and get to the bottom of this threat, not sit around for a week pretending to be interested in the woman he doesn’t want to marry.” He sank heavily to the sofa. “I wanted to give him a last chance at freedom.” Giovanni would never call it freedom. He was too goal-oriented and dutiful to admit to himself that he didn’t have freedom. As far as he was concerned, it was still his choice, not their father’s. Sometimes it was easier to lie to yourself than to admit that you were a prisoner in your own family.

  Luca crossed the room to sit beside him, humming a noncommittal agreement that sounded more than a little sarcastic.

  “Why else would I be here?” Alessandro challenged.

  Luca looked at him innocently. “I don’t know, maybe you like her.” He raised his shoulders and his eyebrows and held them for a moment. “Maybe you’ve grown overly fond of our brother’s fiancé.”

  Overly fond. Alessandro didn’t like that phrase. It had connotations of being mistaken. He wasn’t mistaken. He knew he loved her. He also knew that didn’t give him the moral high ground in this situation, but what was he supposed to do? Just let her go? Watch her wilt in a loveless marriage? And watch Giovanni do the same? “I’m here because I love Giovanni. Lorna has nothing to do with it.” It was a bald-faced lie, but he delivered it with conviction.

  Luca sighed, and Alessandro knew he didn’t believe him. “Look, I know you flirt with
everything that has a pulse, but I’ve seen the way you are around her. It’s different.” He spoke gently, in the patient tone of voice he took when they were kids and Alessandro didn’t understand his math homework.

  Alessandro didn’t enjoy being talked down to. Nor did he enjoy this line of questioning. It wasn’t like Luca didn’t have anything to hide. “Butt out unless you want to explain why Caroline is alive.”

  Luca sat back against the sofa, looking out into space, completely separate from this reality. Alessandro waited. Luca did this when he needed to formulate his thoughts into words. If he weren’t going to speak, he would have dismissed the question. And Alessandro was curious why his usually pragmatic brother would choose to go against their father’s orders.

  Luca opened his mouth and took a breath, still looking into the void at something Alessandro couldn’t fathom. “I couldn’t kill her.”

  “That’s it?” Alessandro was incredibly underwhelmed. “You couldn’t kill her?”

  Luca shook his head slowly, finally returning to reality, and focusing back on Alessandro. “She’s a whole person.”

  That simple phrase meant so much. Alessandro understood. It was easier to carry out an execution when you didn’t know the subject. When it was a name or a photograph and not a life. He didn’t know how many people Luca had killed before, if any. They didn’t talk about that. They knew it would happen and accepted each other in spite of it, but they didn’t discuss how it felt, or what it meant, or how it changed them. Luca had followed Caroline for a while, trying to get close enough to make it look like an accident. He must have seen too much of her. She became a whole person. It’s hard to kill a whole person with a whole life filled with hopes and dreams and family and friends and connections. A name wasn’t a whole person. A face through the scope of a sniper rifle wasn’t a whole person. Even a warm body that bled when you shot it wasn’t a whole person. But Caroline had become a whole person to Luca, so he couldn’t kill her.