Chapter Fifteen

Lore

Three days later, though, nothing had changed.

And now I had a shiny new fear of leaving the apartment to contend with, so I was just staying inside, feeling sad and anxious and disappointed that Renzo was still working his intolerably long hours.

There was a knock at the door—Elian’s little warning that he was coming in before he did—and then the door inched open.

“You have… a visitor,” he said, looking as surprised as I felt.

A visitor?

One of my brothers, maybe?

Nico?

“My brother?” I asked, hearing a hopeful squeak in my own voice.

“Right. Like one of them is going to swallow their pride, trek down here, and admit they… whoa,” the newly familiar female voice started as she pushed past Elian, only to freeze a foot inside the door as she got a look at me.

Honestly, in the long list of family members I thought might show up to see me, she was almost at the bottom.

Avery was the wife of my cousin, Emilio. Who was the Capo dei Capi’s right hand man.

She was a pretty blonde with a somewhat round face and light blue-gray eyes.

When I gave it a second of thought, though, it made sense that it was Avery.

Because Avery was a Lombardi.

Well, sort of.

Avery had been the stepdaughter of a Lombardi capo.

She’d actually met my cousin Emilio when Renzo had used her to spy on the Costa family.

So if anyone was going to feel comfortable traipsing into Lombardi territory, it was someone who’d lived in it most of her life, who knew all the people.

She shot Elian a pointed look that had him clearing his throat and walking out.

Then Avery was rushing across the room to me.

“Tell me he didn’t do this,” she said, eyes pinned to my face.

I could see the thoughts swirling around her head as she likely wrestled with the idea of having to go back to the Costas and give them this update.

“He didn’t do it,” I said, shaking my head. Then, a little firmer, “He didn’t do this. I was mugged.”

“Mugged,” she repeated. “You, a mafia boss’s wife, were mugged?”

“Yes. But… um… let’s just say that he learned his lesson,” I said.

“He better the fuck have,” she said. “I mean who in their right freaking mind busts the face of Renzo Lombardi’s wife? I mean, unless they were looking forward to a wired jaw. Oh, is that coffee?” she asked, but made her way into the kitchen without waiting for an answer.

I liked Avery.

In a family of a lot of women who just seemed to have it all together, Avery was a breath of fresh air. Because she could be a mess sometimes. Always babbling, cursing constantly even when she means not to, tripping and spilling stuff, crying randomly, laughing so hard she snorted. She helped me feel a little less awkward.

She was opening and closing cupboards, looking for a mug as I moved closer, seeing some long white and gray hairs on her dark pants from her cats.

“Where’s the sugar?” she asked, opening more cabinets.

“There is none.”

“What do you mean there is none?” she asked, whirling on me, eyes horrified, making my lips curve up, the scab on my lip pulling. I’d been trying so hard not to pick at it.

I’d been to Avery’s house on several occasions and on coffee dates with her a few times too.

She liked her sugar.

Her coffee concoctions were often more complicated than mine.

And she knew I liked things sweet too.

“What? Like, you ran out?” she asked, giving me the benefit of the doubt.

“I haven’t bought any.”

At that, Avery’s brows drew together as she suddenly turned to whip open the fridge. Then the freezer. Before turning back at me.

“What’s going on here, Lore?” she asked, head tipping to the side. “You can be honest with me. They’re both, for all intentions, my families. I know the good and bad of all of them. Like, that one out there,” she said, waving toward the door.

“Elian?”

“Yeah. He is quiet and sees everything. And that guy Dav? All that charm? Covers up a dark side. My brother? A complete fuck-up, but has a good heart.”

“And Renzo?” I asked.

To that, she took a deep breath.

“So, Renzo forced me into a job he knew put me in danger,” she said. “And he wasn’t easy on me, either, when I was not getting results. He’s harsh and demanding and often unfeeling. But when I fell for Emilio and failed the job, he came to my apartment when I’d been falling apart. And he’d… given a shit. I mean, he’s not a touchy-feely, warm and tingly kind of guy by any stretch of the imagination, but he… he cared in his own gruff kinda way.

“He kind of told me I had to get my shit together because he wasn’t going to visit me if I went on a slipper sock vacation. Then, when I couldn’t stop crying, he gave me a pill and knocked me out,” she admitted, shaking her head. “I half-expected not to wake up, to be honest.”

“I didn’t know that,” I told her.

To that, she shrugged. “It wasn’t my finest hour,” she admitted. “But love can make us act really fucking crazy. Crazy enough… to marry the enemy of your family without knowing a damn thing about him.”

“What?” I asked, heartbeat tripping into overdrive, a frantic pounding against my ribcage.

“Oh, come on. Listen, I love you Lore. But you really weren’t the self-sacrificing for the good of the family sort, right?” she asked. “I mean, you never dig your heels in about anything. So when you decided this, I had a feeling you might have a crush on Renzo or something.”

“I guess,” I admitted.

“It’s not just a crush anymore, though, is it?” she asked.

“No.”

“But he’s still… Renzo,” she said.

“Yes,” I agreed, feeling so seen right then that I wanted to cry.

“To understand Renzo, I think you need to know how fucked up this empire he inherited was. Like, you know how the old Costa boss was a tyrant?”

“Yeah,” I agreed, nodding. The stories of his cruelty were endless.

“Well, it was worse around here. Like, a lot worse around here. The former bosses and capos were callous and cruel. Sometimes just for shits and giggles. They got off on their power. The problem was, they didn’t have the stranglehold on the area that the Costas did on their turf. There’s a lot of crews in this area. Who got sick of the tyranny of their reign. And so what Renzo inherited was a massive turf war and lack of respect for his name.

“He had to work his ass off to get respect around here again. I mean, I don’t think I ever saw him not working.”

“It’s that way now,” I admitted.

To that, she nodded.

“And you want him here with you,” she guessed. “And he, being a guy, is too fucking thick-headed to understand that you might want him around.”

“I just want you to know,” another female voice said, coming into the apartment, “how embarrassing it was to order this fucking drink. What—oh,” Cinna broke off, gaze landing on Avery.

“Cinna,” Avery said, offering her a small smile.

“Avery dropped in to check on me,” I explained, taking the extra large latte from her, and pouring half of it into the mug Avery had pulled from the cabinet. “Thank you for this,” I said, smiling at Cinna, who’d sent me a text that she was grabbing a coffee around the corner if I wanted anything.

We didn’t text a lot, but she’d been available to me when I reached out. And I had a feeling that, over time, it really could become the friendship I said I was seeking. And one she seemed to need as well.

“I’m kind of surprised half a dozen Costa men haven’t broken down that door yet,” Cinna admitted, nodding her head toward it.

“Oh, they want to,” Avery said. “I said I would come to try to ease their anxiety.”

“What are you going to go back and tell them? That their girl is in love with a stupid fuck who doesn’t deserve her?” Cinna asked.

“He’s been good to me,” I insisted, getting a dubious look from Avery and a raised brow from Cinna.

“Keeping you in an orgasm haze doesn’t mean he’s been good to you,” Cinna objected.

“Not that we’re knocking the orgasms,” Avery said. “Because, you know, good for you,” she added with a smile.

“He found the guy who attacked me.”

“I’m not saying this to be cruel,” Cinna started. “But he would have done that to anyone who put their hands on any of the Lombardi women. It’s about the disrespect to the family, to him.”

What hurt the most about her words were the fact that I knew they were true, that she was right, that tracking him down had to do with the family, not necessarily me.

Part of me wanted to tell them about the way he was sweet with me, was soft with me.

But… they weren’t wrong about that side of him being reserved for, well, sex. For the intimacy directly during and after.

I mean, I was pretty sure the only time I’d actually talked to Renzo outside of the primary suite was during the party. And then, only for a minute or two.

“Say sorry,” Avery whisper-yelled at Cinna.

“I’m not apologizing for telling the truth,” Cinna whispered back.

“No, it’s okay,” I said swallowing past the lump in my throat. “I know you’re right,” I said, nodding.

He didn’t know me enough to attack someone out of genuine affection for me.

But maybe not all of that blame was on his shoulders.

Maybe I hadn’t been putting any work into getting to know him, or letting him get to know me.

“Are you going to tell the Costas about her face?” Cinna asked Avery.

To that, Avery snorted. “I don’t know if I want to be the person to spread that information around. Or be responsible for the repercussions.”

“Don’t tell them,” I said. “Things are… okay here,” I told her. “I don’t want them all rushing over, puffing their chests, and accusing Renzo of not protecting me or something like that. I think tensions are still high enough without everyone knowing about the mugging.”

The two women shared a look.

“I’m not saying we never tell them. Just… not until some time has passed. There’s no way for them to figure it out,” I added. “I’m not going out until my face is better.”

“Alright,” Avery agreed, sipping her half of my latte. “So, now, circling back to the orgasms…”

“Oh, god,” I said, feeling the flush rush up to my cheeks.

“That good, huh?” Avery asked, beaming at me.

“This seems wildly inappropriate,” I decided.

“Why? He’s not actually my blood,” Avery said. “Or Cinna’s for that matter. We’re all just girls here. Does he dirty talk? I bet he dirty talks.”

“He… does,” I admitted, not sure I could get any redder. “But, like, not just… not just… narration.”

Cinna and Avery shared a confused look.

“He… he has nice things to say,” I said, wishing I’d never opened my mouth.

“Renzo gives praise in bed?” Avery asked, mouth falling open. “You lucky duck, you.”

I did feel lucky about that, actually.

Even just remembering those words he said to me when he was touching me or buried in me made my insides flutter and swoop like birds taking flight.

And sometimes, if I thought about them long enough, I found myself wet and aching for him.

Insatiable, that was how I felt about him.

“Did you, like, seduce him?” Avery asked. “I mean, I think most of us figured this was, you know, an arrangement. Like you know how Isabella wasn’t expected to bang Primo Esposito when he made her marry him. I mean, at least that’s my understanding.”

“I, uh, I don’t think I’m capable of… seduction,” I admitted.

“Oh, come on. You’re a fucking bombshell,” Avery gushed.

“It’s not… it’s that… I hadn’t…”

“Oh,” Avery said. “Oh,” she added, voice more airy as she and Cinna shared a look of, I don’t know, confusion and concern intermingled. “Oh, Lore…”

“You don’t need to—“ I started, but trailed off, not knowing what to say.

“Did he know?” Cinna asked.

The way my gaze skittered away must have told them all they needed to know.

There was a long moment where no one spoke. But it was Avery who broke the silence. “I mean… I guess it’s good to have your first time with someone as experienced as Renzo, though.”

“Right?” Cinna asked with a snort. “I got popped in an alley between buildings at sixteen by a guy who snuck me a beer and told me I had great tits. It lasted all of two minutes and the only memorable thing about it was how he tripped over his own pants afterward.”

That got a laugh out of Avery.

“Hey, I mean, you do have great tits,” she said.

“And now only worthy men get to rest in the hills,” Cinna said, patting the center of her chest.

“How come Dav isn’t worthy?” I asked, enjoying this very adult-feeling conversation. I’d never really had girlfriends to talk to. And never about sex, for obvious reasons.

“Not to be crass,” Avery started.

“Since when?” Cinna shot back.

“But I was once at a party where Dav had two girls in the bathroom with him. They both were… having a really, really good time. I’m pretty sure that guy would eat like a starving man.”

“That’s never going to happen,” Cinna said, shrugging it off.

Avery and I shared a look that said we both now were invested in it actually happening. But Cinna missed it as she reached for her phone as it buzzed.

“Okay. I have to run.”

“Of course. Asses to kick. Glass ceilings to break…” Avery said, getting something dangerously close to an actual smile out of Cinna.

“Something like that.”

“Thanks for the coffee,” I said. “Even if it hurt your pride to order it,” I added.

The conversation after Cinna left was much more casual, just filling me in on the goings-on with my family before, eventually, she had to get going too.

“Please keep in touch, though, okay? Especially with Nico,” she implored at the door. “He’s not handling this well.”

“I will,” I said, accepting the hug she offered. “Thanks for checking in on me.”

Alone, I thought about what they had to say.

About how they clearly both knew Renzo better than I, his wife, did.

An idea formulated.

“Elian,” I called as I opened the door, finding him seated there.

“What can I do for you, Mrs. Lombardi?”

As much as I secretly loved being referred to as Renzo’s wife, the affection I was starting to feel toward Elian made me kind of wish he would use less formality with me.

“Do you know how late Renzo is working tonight?” I asked.

“I can ask.”

“Okay,” I said, nodding. “Also, I have all this cash, but I don’t have a card to use to place an order with. Could I, like, pay you the cash, and have you order some things for me?”

“Anything you want,” he said. “I’ll go grab it. Someone else will be here soon to take over.”

“I don’t want you to have to do it. I was going to order.”

“It’s not any trouble,” he insisted with that raised chin that all of these mafia guys used to assert that they were going to be stubborn about something.

Feeling bad about it, I handed over my long list to him.

And an hour after he was off his shift, there was a knock, and a ton of groceries waiting for me.

“Thank you so much,” I said, giving him a big smile.

“Don’t mention it. And I may have… suggested to your husband that he might want to be home before morning tonight,” he added, handing me the bags, then turning to leave.

So then, I set my plan in motion.

To make my husband dinner.

Where I hoped we could actually sit and have a conversation, get to know each other. With our clothes on.

I didn’t cook often, much to the chagrin of my family, who claimed I was the best at it. Cooking kind of reminded me a lot of my mom, of those long afternoons and evenings in the kitchen, learning at her apron strings how to make all the recipes that went back generations in her family.

After her death, cooking usually filled me with a sense of grief and longing so thick you could slice it. And I didn’t like serving up my grief on a platter.

So I just… chose not to do it.

Tonight was different, though.

Tonight, I wanted to show off in front of my husband.

I wanted to watch him dig into a meal I’d painstakingly cooked.

I wanted to watch him enjoy it.

And maybe be pleased with it enough to actually… you know… come home for dinner sometimes.

With the food cooking, I set the table, pulling out the candleholders and pillars I’d asked Elian to pick up as well, before dressing myself in the nicest thing I’d brought with me from home—the simple black dress I bought to use for any ‘formal’ family gathering.

I never liked dressing up, always feeling that “nice” women’s clothing showed off too much—too much leg, back, or chest. Or it clung to every inch of the body, leaving nothing to the imagination.

And I just… never wanted to draw attention to myself, to be looked at that way. So I avoided it at all costs.

Now, though, for Renzo? A man who seemed to worship every inch of me, I was suddenly okay with it.

I slipped on the dress, then went back downstairs to finish cooking.

Then waited.

And waited.

And, you guessed it, waited.

Sometime much later, I heard voices in the hallway.

Several.

Too many to just be Renzo talking to the guard.

He was having people over.

Again.

Just… completely disregarding the suggestion from Elian.

Angry tears pricking my eyes, I jumped up, taking everything I’d cooked, and tossing it in the garbage, then turned, and ran up the stairs, taking myself across the catwalk and to one of the guest rooms just as the crowd moved into the apartment.

I wasn’t going to share a bed with him.

I wasn’t going to let him come in during the wee hours of the morning and reach for me.

Because I knew my traitorous body would give in.

I would let him touch me.

I would allow those gooey sex hormones to twist and warp my vision of my marriage yet again.

Maybe it was time to finally accept that this was never going to be the relationship my heart was aching for. That Renzo was never going to be the partner I wanted him to be.

And once I accepted that, I had to figure out how to hell to navigate a future where I wouldn’t have my own happily ever after like I read in all my books. Like I’d been dreaming about for years.