Chapter Eight

Lore

When I woke, he was gone yet again, and I tried not to focus on that, choosing to relive the memories of the night before, wrapping them around me like a warm blanket, reminding myself that this was what I always wanted.

The goodness and softness of a hard man.

Something he saved just for me.

“You’re leaving?” Elian asked, jolting upright as I moved out of the door of the apartment that afternoon, determined not to sit around and get lost in my thoughts, knowing I would only start to mope as the hours passed, and Renzo didn’t come rushing home to me.

“Yes,” I said, nodding, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

“Good for you,” he said, offering me a small smile.

I half expected him to follow me.

But he seemed to be fixed on his post.

And I guess that made sense.

I knew that the bosses of these families were paranoid about their homes, never wanting outsiders to be able to get in.

My father had even been paranoid when my brothers started to date in their teens, bringing their girls home. As if the government might be recruiting and using teen girls as spies or something.

We never had cleaning ladies or even handymen in the house who weren’t in the family or close friends.

So I guess having a guard outside of Renzo’s door was one surefire way to make sure no one who wasn’t supposed to be there entered.

It felt strange walking out of that building. Almost like a teen sneaking out of the house for the first time.

I didn’t know this area well, but after I’d agreed to marry Renzo, I’d taken to studying maps of Brooklyn, wanting not to seem ignorant of my new home. So as I got a look at the signs on the cross streets, I felt I got my bearings well enough to continue in a direction.

I had emptied my bank account before the wedding, and everything I had to my name was in one of the bags in the closet.

I’d taken a small stack of it with me, not knowing what I might need as I walked around the neighborhood that Renzo called home.

It suited him, I felt.

Everywhere you walked around the Costa family’s headquarters was full of well-dressed people. Men in suits. Women with designer bags and heels.

This area was much more casual. Just normal people going about their lives.

I felt like I somehow fit in a bit more here as well as I dipped into a chain coffee place, getting my first fancy coffee—full of caramel and whipped cream and sugar—and nearly moaning at the taste as I stood there and sipped it.

With my latte to keep me warm, I moved back outside, and headed in the direction of my favorite book shop, a little independent place that specialized in fantasy and science fiction. But, given the popularity of the genre, it had a giant selection of romantasy books.

I’d been too busy with packing up my life and preparing for my new one for a solid month before my wedding to hit up any stores, and I was excited to spend an hour or so browsing the new releases.

As I sipped my coffee and perused the new release section, it struck me that this was the first time I actually felt like myself since before I agreed to marry Renzo.

I knew my money would run out quickly if I overindulged, but I felt like I needed the creature comforts of books around me to fill the never-ending days consisting of nothing but confusion and longing and that ever-present, dull disappointment.

So I bought a new reusable bag. And I filled it all the way to the top before making my way out of the store, and heading back home.

I hated to admit this even to myself, but my gaze scanned the streets as I walked, hoping to lay eyes on Renzo.

Much like I had the first time I’d come to Brooklyn, some babysitting money heavy in my pocket, and intent on checking out the bookstore that my brothers kept promising they would bring me to, but kept being ‘too busy’ to actually do so.

So, with a knot in my belly the size of a baseball, a heartbeat hammering in my ears at doing something I knew was forbidden when I was always, always someone who played by the rules, I hopped on the subway, navigated a small panic attack during a transfer in an unfamiliar area, then hopped on the subway that would leave me just a few blocks from my destination.

I arrived frazzled, excited, and proud of myself.

At sixteen, I’d gotten my very first taste of independence.

I’d been on cloud nine as I exited the bookstore, my reusable bag from home heavy with my goodies I told myself I would lie to my father about, claiming I’d bought them at the local bookstore, even though I had a new reusable bag tucked in with my books for my new favorite store in the world.

I had my mind on a coffee to bring with me, since it was a long way back to Manhattan. And it was in sight, so I started in that direction.

Only, apparently, to gain the attention of a crew of men who’d been hanging out on the sidewalk.

I felt my spine stiffening as they moved in behind me, calling to me, making comments on my young body.

I knew I had to just keep walking, to make it inside of the coffee place, which would offer a small amount of protection.

The guys would go away eventually.

Then I could rush toward the subway, and head back home.

The flaw in my plan had been expecting the guys to disperse, and not to look harder before I exited the coffee place, my latte hot in my hand.

“There she is,” a voice called, making my stomach tighten when I was a few too many steps away from the door to turn back in again.

“Where you going in such a rush, baby?” another asked, his breath warm on my ear, making bile rise up my throat.

“Come on, don’t you want to talk to us?” another asked, and I felt his fingers teasing across the edges of my hair.

“We’ll make it worth your while,” one of the others said as I forced my feet to keep moving forward.

But then panicked at seeing a small alleyway ahead.

They were behind and around me, making it impossible to turn around, but moving forward would make that alley loom closer. And these guys could easily push me into the alley and do… whatever they wanted to me.

“She’ll make it worth our while,” another voice said.

“Yo!” a voice suddenly called, making me stiffen, terrified it was another man to follow and torment me. “The fuck you think you’re doing?” he added, making my gaze turn to find, well, a god of a man jogging across the street toward us.

He was tall and fit under his black tee and jeans, an expensive-looking cross on his chest, and a watch on his wrist that looked even more pricey.

With a family like mine, I knew a thing or two about designer men’s jewelry.

But it was his gorgeous face that had my heartbeat going from a panicked hammering to an interested thrumming.

Those sharp angles, those nearly black eyes, that tanned skin.

“Get the fuck away from her,” he called, closing in on the sidewalk.

The men finally fell back, giving me enough space to actually suck in a breath.

“You can’t see she’s just a fucking kid?” he growled at the men who suddenly backed away from him, hands raised. Even though they outnumbered him.

“Whoa whoa…” one of the men said, backing up another step.

“Renzo, man, we didn’t mean no disrespect,” another said.

Renzo.

It wasn’t exactly a common name.

And this was Lombardi territory.

It had to be him.

Renzo Lombardi.

Enemy of my family.

Protecting me.

I had no reason to think he knew who I was. Sure, in Manhattan, everyone who needed to know, knew who the Costa women and girls were, and knew to stay away from them.

But we were far from Manhattan.

And I was a little old nobody to this crime family.

He had no idea I was a Costa princess.

He just knew I was a girl being harassed.

And he wanted to put an end to it.

“You think I’m gonna put up with this shit?” Renzo raged at the men as, suddenly, several other men appeared out of nowhere.

I knew enough about the mob to know guards when I saw them closing in, ready to take action.

“In my goddamn neighborhood?” Renzo asked, shoving his hands into one of the guys’ chests.

I took an instinctive step back, knowing where this was going even before the beat down started.

It was mere moments before the men who’d been harassing me were bloodied heaps on the ground thanks to Renzo and his men.

I seemed frozen on the spot, transfixed by the uncontrolled, righteous brutality of this gorgeous, strange man.

Then, suddenly, he turned, those dark eyes landing on me.

His gaze had impact.

A punch to the chest, leaving me breathless.

“You okay?” he asked, head tipped to the side.

“I… yes,” I said, voice sounding choked. “Thank you,” I added.

“For keeping you from getting harassed, kid? Nah, don’t need thanks for that,” he said, shaking his head. “Go on. You’ll be safe now,” he told me, nodding his chin toward one of his men.

With that, he turned and left.

Taking a chunk of my heart with him.

After that, I made my way back to the subway, aware of one of Renzo’s men following me the whole way.

I made the trip back to Brooklyn regularly after that. Every few months or so, when my book pile dwindled, and I felt like I had an ‘excuse’ to visit.

Even though, in my heart, I knew what I was actually doing.

Hoping to catch a sight of him.

Sometimes I was lucky, seeing him walking around, talking to people. Other times, I left feeling defeated and depressed, annoyed with myself for being so desperate.

It was a pattern I kept up until, finally, at eighteen, I forced myself to stop. To quit being so needy and pathetic and, well, creepy.

Then I tried my hardest to put my girlish crush on Renzo Lombardi behind me.

Mostly unsuccessfully, I might add. Because those dark eyes were always there in my mind, his deep voice a soothing balm on frantic days. And, well, in my sweaty, restless dreams.

But by the time I was twenty, I didn’t think about him all of the time anymore.

Until, suddenly, I walked in on a conversation in Lorenzo Costa’s—the Capo dei Capi—house one day, hearing that Renzo Lombardi wanted a marriage alliance with our family.

That one of us Costa women would need to marry him.

It all came rushing back then, those thoughts, feelings, memories.

There’d been no reasoning with me then.

It felt too much like fate.

I was going to marry the man who’d saved me once upon a time.

And here I was.

Married to him.

It was nothing like I’d dreamed of.

But I still couldn’t stop myself from thinking of him as I made my way back to the apartment where Elian was waiting, looking at my coffee and bag of books, then offering me a small smile before opening the door for me.

I fell into one of my books after that, cuddled in bed, pretending I wasn’t waiting for Renzo to come home, to reach for me again, to give me a taste of his attention.

The only kind he seemed inclined to give me.

But when I finally heard sounds from the floor below, it wasn’t just Renzo, coming home to see me.

It was him and all of his friends again, the sounds of their partying filling the apartment, making me very much feel left out and unwanted.

Once again.

I hated myself every second of it, but I sat there in complete silence, barely even letting myself breathe, in case I might miss the sound of Renzo calling for me, inviting me down, introducing me to his people, including me in their merriment.

But the call never came.

And as the stupid tears stung my eyes, I flung off the covers, taking myself into the bathroom, stripping, and climbing into the shower, scrubbing at myself as if I could wash away my own pathetic longing for a man who clearly never thought of me, save for when I was lying beside him.

Until, suddenly, the bathroom door was swinging open.

And there he was.

Despite the sounds of the party still playing out below us.