by Bethany-Kris
Christian went nowhere alone.
Renzo was still trying to figure out why he was following this fucker. If he went by the information provided to him in the file—which, honestly, didn’t mean much when M could easily not include relevant details about Christian—then it might have something to do with Christian’s involvement in the drug trafficking trade. Maybe this Italian was encroaching on M’s business in a way, but he needed to know it for sure before he acted on it.
It could be a lot of things.
None of them mattered right now.
Renzo had to move as Christian was now standing on the side of the road, and looked as though he was going to head for that club. Business or pleasure? He didn’t know, but it seemed like he was going to get to see the inside of a club for the first time in God knew how long.
Thankfully, Christian hadn’t noticed Renzo tailing him for the week he’d been in New York, but that was kind of the point. He suspected the man regularly had paranoia about being followed anyway, so he took extra precautions when it came to the Italian just to be safe.
Like now.
Renzo waited until Christian had crossed the street with his driver, and then disappeared into the club before he too got out of his vehicle. There was no way he was going to get past the idiot at the front manning the doors and deciding who could get in or out of the business. Instead, he slipped into an alleyway beside the club, and looked for … there it was.
An exit door.
And it had a lock on the outside, too.
A pickable lock.
Renzo grinned, bent down a little, and pulled the tool from the back of his jeans that had served him well over the years. Even before he was brought into The League, he’d been damn good at picking a lock. It got him out of some tough situations.
This was cake.
Before long, Renzo was standing in the middle of the club’s dance floor. In the swell of moving people, he was able to blend in better as he searched the tables and booths for Christian. Apparently, he had been looking in the wrong place.
Renzo found the man in the VIP section.
Maybe that wasn’t surprising.
But the fact he was sitting across the table from Johnathan Marcello certainly was fucking surprising, and confusing.
It had been years since Renzo last laid eyes on Lucia’s older brother. The last time, the man had been dragging her out of an apartment in San Francisco after letting his men beat the shit out of Renzo. He might have been pissed to see John again after all this time, if not for the fact that Renzo was starting to feel like something wasn’t right here.
Christian had been in Cali, too.
Near Lucia.
And here he was in New York, talking to her brother?
What was going on?
Nothing good, he suspected.
• • •
“John, you still working that Capo job for your family, or have you gotten yourself something better since the last time we met up?”
Johnathan Marcello’s head snapped up at the sound of Renzo’s voice. Renzo grinned, and stepped out of the alleyway, the cigarette on his lips bouncing with his chuckles. The Marcello man’s gaze landed on him, and for a second, he looked as though he didn’t believe what he was seeing.
He’d just stepped out of his club—yeah, Renzo heard someone talking; the place was John’s—about thirty minutes after Christian left. He’d managed to get close enough to their meeting that he heard some of the details. Drugs, imports … Lucia came up once, which made his blood boil because apparently Christian had taken a liking to her.
John didn’t seem to notice.
Renzo did.
“Ren,” John murmured.
The man held up a single hand, and the two men close to his back instantly moved further away whereas they had looked as though they might try to take Renzo on.
They were welcome to try it.
He might get some anger out breaking their faces.
Who knew?
“You’re looking well,” John said, “and yes, to your question … I have moved elsewhere.”
Renzo arched a brow, and took a drag from his smoke. “Doing what, because I heard Andino is heading the Marcellos now, right?”
“I control the old Calabrese faction in the city.”
He nodded. “Nice.”
“Suits me well.”
“I imagine.”
“How’s The League?” John asked.
Renzo stiffened, and the smoke drifted from his lips in curling tendrils toward the sky. “How the fuck do you know—”
“I have always known.”
Huh.
“It breaks you,” Renzo offered, saying nothing else.
“Yeah, I bet.” John cleared his throat. “Something you want, or what? Because as far as I know, you’ve still got a contract with The League, don’t you? Pretty sure you’re not supposed to be around this area unless it’s for a job.”
Renzo laughed. “Ah, and it is. Right you are.”
He was also concerned how or why John seemed to know so much about his business with The League, but that was a conversation for another day. He would deal with it later.
“Christian Savino,” Renzo said.
John tipped his chin up. “What about him?”
“Do you wanna tell me why you’re having meetings with a man I’ve been delegated to babysit from afar while he’s on this continent?”
“I—”
“Or why I heard him mention Lucia’s name when I know he’s also been at her place of work in California, too?”
John’s lips flattened into a grim line. “My business with Savino is just that—business. As far as Lucia, I know he brought over an art print that he needed validated, but the only one capable here was the same gallery where Lucia interns. Circumstance and coincidence, that’s all. Probably not something you should worry about, Ren.”
Yeah, but that was the thing.
Renzo didn’t believe in coincidences.
“Why the hell am I following him, then?”
John gave Renzo a shrug. “Well, I have no fucking idea. Ask your boss—whoever that is.”
“I would,” Renzo said, “if I knew my boss.”
“Shitty luck for you, then, I suppose.”
Maybe.
Renzo grinned. “You know, I still owe you a punch in the mouth for that shit in San Francisco five years ago.”
John cleared his throat. “But not tonight, huh?”
He sighed. “No, but someday.”
That was a promise.
He liked to keep those.
“I don’t doubt it, Ren,” John murmured. “I’ve been waiting for it, honestly.”
Good.
He liked when people saw him coming.
EIGHT
“Miss, your breakfast …” The server slid the plate of waffles in front of Lucia, and offered her a bright smile. “Enjoy.”
“Grazie.”
The girl gave her a nod. “If there’s anything else I can do, don’t hesitate to let me know.”
“Will do.”
Once the server was gone, Lucia went back to her breakfast. Usually, she would take her meals right in her hotel room, but this morning, she decided to try something different. Her short stay in New York had turned into three weeks, now. Not something she had expected, but … well, she wasn’t ready to leave.
Plus, her father wasn’t quite finished his treatments. Almost, though, which was one good thing. Nonetheless, she wasn’t ready to head back to Cali until she thought it was the right time. Lucia didn’t have any idea when the right time was, but she knew it wasn’t now.
Add in the Renzo thing a week earlier, and … yeah.
Maybe she kept looking over her shoulder, expecting him to be standing there again. Watching her, but unmoving like a statue. Yet, with eyes still so expressive and full of a soul she hadn’t felt in far too long.
She wanted to find him standing there.
He wasn’t.
Lucia wasn’t ready to give up, though.
Taking a sip of the orange juice in the crystal glass next to her plate of food, Lucia’s gaze drifted to her cell phone on the table just as it started to buzz with a text. She quickly picked it up, and unlocked the screen to see what the text said.
It was her mom.
Your father sent a driver to the hotel whenever you’re ready, Jordyn had wrote.
Lucia smiled. Thanks, she wrote back.
I love you, quickly came the next message.
You too, Ma, she typed, ending the conversation.
Her mother wasn’t going to say it, sure, but Jordyn was ecstatic that Lucia was making an effort where her father was concerned. It was all her mother wanted. Lucia wasn’t willing to explain to her mother that, no, she hadn’t exactly forgiven her father, but she was putting it aside for the moment.
It was something she would come back to later, and then she and Lucian could hash out everything that had happened in the past.
Now was not the right time.
Lucian had a treatment today at the hospital, and since Jordyn had something else she needed to take care of, that meant her father would have to go it alone. Lucia didn’t like the thought of that, and while sometimes, the treatments made her father sick and moody, she would rather be there to give him someone to talk to while he did the chemo.
Hence, the waiting driver outside.
Probably a Marcello enforcer.
It would have to be someone she recognized—they wouldn’t send someone random. Once she finished her breakfast, she would go out and meet the driver, then, head to the hospital to sit with her father during his treatment.
Lucia was half done with the waffles when a familiar voice had her lifting her head. Instantly, her gaze landed on the tall, handsome man walking her way. He grinned at the sight of her—showing off perfect rows of white teeth with an easy, charming smile. His three-piece suit looked tailored to his fit form, and covered his broad shoulders well. His cropped hair had been slicked back, and his brown eyes lit up with his happiness.
She, on the other hand, froze.
Christian Savino.
“Lucia, dolcezza, what are the chances you would be at this hotel, too?” he asked, coming closer to her table with every single word. His stride was easy, and confident. If he noticed her discomfort at seeing him there—in New York, at the same hotel as her like it had to be a coincidence—then he didn’t show it. “The Astoria does have the best of the best, doesn’t it?”
She took entirely too long to respond, which was a fucking mistake. Mostly because her hesitance gave Christian more than enough time to get to her table, and sit down across from her. You know, without being invited to do so.
Sitting across from her, he let out a laugh, and reached over to pick up her hand. He brought her knuckles to his lips, and pressed a quick kiss to her skin. She resisted the urge to tug her hand back, but only because she didn’t want to purposely be rude to this man. Sure, she didn’t share the interest he seemed to have in her, but that didn’t mean she needed to kick his ego while she was at it, too.
That seemed like a bit much.
Besides, Italians always did want to get close. That was how they expressed everything in life. Quite literally. From their anger, to their joy, or love. It was all expressed through physical actions. Like a kiss to the cheek, or a smack to the back of the head.
Or even a kiss to someone’s knuckles. It didn’t have to mean something specific—it just was. Except … she knew this man had an interest in her, so she was inclined to believe that for him, it meant more than just a sweet gesture.
“Christian,” Lucia said, keeping her tone pleasant. “I’m surprised to see you here.”
Not a lie.
Had he just come to New York because that’s where Kelly told him Lucia had gone? Because if so, that was a little creepy.
Christian smiled, and waved a hand. Finally, he let go of her hand, too, and she took the chance to hide her hand under the table where she wiped off the feeling of his lips on her knuckles against the skirt of her spring dress.
“Business,” he said. “The deal I was trying to make with someone in Cali—separate from the art print I brought along with me—almost fell through, and I figured coming right to his home territory might … well, change things. Or that’s my hope.”
Huh.
“And what is your business?” Lucia asked.
Christian shrugged. “A little of this, and a little of that. I import and export, essentially. Someone needs something specific, and I have the means to get it to them.”
She didn’t think he was telling her the entire truth considering the sly smile he sported, but Lucia opted not to press. She had learned over her life not to ask too many questions about someone’s business because like her family … well, it might not be all legal. She didn’t need the details.
“But lucky me,” Christian said, “because I get to see you again. I would like to do that more often, Lucia. See you, I mean.”
She blinked.
Wow.
That was … forward.
She gave him points for his confidence and arrogance, anyway. Not that it was going to make a difference to the news she was about to deliver to him.
“Not even beating around the bush, huh?” Lucia asked, half joking.
Christian flashed her with a another charming smile, and even tossed in a wink for good measure. For another woman, that alone might have been more than enough to have her agreeing to whatever he wanted. Truth was, this man wasn’t bad looking. He didn’t give her a bad vibe, either. He clearly had wealth, status, and class.
Every woman’s dream.
Just not hers.
“Listen,” Lucia started to say, hoping to let him down easy, “it’s not the right time for me to be … dating.”
Yeah, that sounded okay.
Mostly.
Christian’s smile didn’t falter at all. “Why not, bella donna?”
“For a lot of reasons.”
And none that she wanted to share.
“Not even for dinner?” he asked. “A drink, maybe? Or … what if, as friends, or even … hmm, I happen to know a new gallery that’s opening, and there’s a painting I have interest in. Perhaps you could accompany me to it, and let me know what you think of it and if it’s worth the price they’re asking. Then, it’s all business—nothing else to it, sì?”
Lucia could have agreed to that, if only to appease his request and get him off her back. The thing was, she seriously suspected that if she said yes to his offer, then he wasn’t going to get the hint that she wasn’t interested.
“Sorry,” Lucia said, “I can’t. I’m a little busy with family stuff while I’m here, that’s all.”
“Shame.” Christian’s smile softened. “Could I at least give you my number? In case you change your mind—not that I expect you to, of course.”
“I—”
Quickly, he leaned over the table, and his hand came up to brush the loose waves of her hair over her shoulder. It was an easy touch—soft, and gentle. “You don’t have to call, mia cara. It’s a … just in case, kind of thing.”
Fine.
“Sure,” Lucia said, picking up her screen to unlock it.
Despite that, Christian didn’t move. He didn’t lean back to give her some space. No, he stayed incredibly close, and in fact, continued tucking her hair behind her ear. He had just taken the unlocked phone from her hands when a form over his shoulder caught her eye.
She blinked.
Breathed.
Her heart ached from the sight of the man walking toward them. Leather jacket on, dark eyes blazing with fire, and his gorgeous face searing into her memory. The reaction her body felt at seeing him was visceral, and raw.
Renzo’s stride was not quite the same as Christian’s as he approached Lucia’s table. Instead of easy, smooth steps, his were firm and determined. He looked ready to tear something apart, but
the only thing he was looking at happened to be her.
She sucked in a quick breath.
It ached.
It didn’t feel like enough, honestly.
So many questions ran through her mind at the sight of Renzo. She had a bunch of shit right on the tip of her tongue—a breakdown was heavy in the back of her mind. He was too close, and yet, not nearly close enough.
This close, she was able to get a better look at him. He wasn’t the same—the changes were small, but they were there. His hair was a little shorter. His gaze, a bit colder. Gone was some of the softer lines on his face that had given him his youthful appearance the last time they had been together, and in its place were the rough, hard lines of a man. The nose ring was new, too, but fuck … she liked it. A lot like the ink peeking out on his hand, and his throat.
New things for her to discover, maybe.
Jesus.
She went there quickly.
Finally, Christian seemed to notice Lucia’s distraction as he went to hand the phone back over. It took one glance over his shoulder for him to see Renzo, but it was too late for him to say anything. Renzo’s angry expression turned into something softer, and sweeter. He even smiled.
Showing off his white teeth, he winked at Lucia, and bent down to sling an arm over her shoulder, and kiss her right on the top of her head.
The action was familiar.
God.
He still smelled the same.
Leather, musk, and man.
“Hey, babe, sorry I’m late,” he murmured against her hair. “We should head out of here, yeah? Don’t want to be late.”
Late for what?
What was he talking about?
Renzo didn’t give Lucia the chance to ask those things before he helped her up from the table, and gave Christian a grin. “Sorry to cut this short—next time, maybe? I’m Ren, by the way.”
Christian didn’t miss a beat. “Christian.”
Lucia was still wondering what just happened.
• • •
“What are you doing?” Lucia hissed as she tried to yank her arm from Renzo’s firm grasp. He held tight even as he led her out of the hotel. She didn’t actually want him to let her go—she liked the way his fingers felt curving around her arm, and keeping her close to him. But that was the problem … it left her confused and sad. “Let me—”
