28. Surprise Baby for the Mafia Boss - Sneak Peek

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I watch myself in the mirror as I pull my jacket on, slowly, savoring the feeling of being wrapped in a cloud. I splurged heavily on this Vicu?a wool suit, but I need the men I"m meeting to take me seriously.

My steel blue gaze stares back at me as I straighten myself up, pulling my shoulders back and taking in a deep breath. Tonight"s meeting is about securing a new product source, something big for the family business.

Going home with this deal in hand will finally show the whole family that I'm more than just the pretty face of this business.

I've been trying to get my older brother to allow me to take on new meetings like this for three years, but only now does he feel I'm mature enough. Which is rich coming from him. He's been doing this since he was much younger than me.

But it"s always been assumed that he could do it while I needed to be micromanaged. This is the perfect opportunity to prove him wrong.

I crack my knuckles, enjoying the sound of my bones grating against one another. I imagine wrapping my fingers around the rising violence inside of me, strangling it back.

It has always been like this for me; the struggle to contain the wildness inside of me. It's part of why my brother, Enzo, has never trusted me to take on business deals on my own.

I admit that violence is like a high to me. Giving in to the wild thing inside of me always feels like a release. It's almost orgasmic, and I often get carried away.

But that doesn't mean that I like being used by my family like a beautiful sword that they almost never release from its scabbard.

I try to tame my unruly hair one final time before I turn away from the mirror. I always keep the sides short, but my barber left a little much on top at my last visit. My attempts are futile, these dark locks have a mind of their own.

As I grab my wallet and phone, I feel vibrating in my hand and realize I'm getting a call. It's my brother. No surprise, he's probably just trying to control this deal and how I handle it.

I love my family, but their lack of trust in my abilities really boils my blood.

I hit the silence button — I'll call him back after the meeting, let him know just how well it went without his help. I head out the door, feeling confident and almost smug.

I arrive at the posh bar where our business contacts decided to meet and slip through the door like a shadow. The cute little redhead at the hostess desk gives me a simpering look when I walk up to greet her.

I tell her who I have come to meet with, and she leads me to a private room at the back of the establishment with a phenomenal view of the city through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

I watch her plump ass swaying as she walks in front of me, and I muse on the thought of yanking her into one of the other rooms along the way to have my way with her.

I shake the thought away, however. That kind of distracted thinking is exactly why my brother doesn't trust me.

Stop thinking with your cock and your fists, Luca, he has said to me more than once.

I pull my shoulders back and settle for giving the redhead a wink before I saunter into the room she has led me to. I ignore her disappointed pout.

Pretty girls are a dime a dozen. She doesn't matter to me.

The meeting does go well.

These men are no pushovers, but with a little charm, and a lot of liquor, they are reasonable. I have a good list of negotiations to take back to the family so we can set this all in motion.

After they"ve left I throw back a few extra celebratory drinks before heading back to my room.

As I stumble back into my room, I knock my knee on the table in the hallway and swear loudly. I kick it over and feel an immense amount of satisfaction when it crashes over with a loud noise, sending the vase of flowers on top of it down to shatter on the marble floor.

My watch says it's almost midnight, but I'm riding a wave of pride at how I just handled this meeting and I feel like I could go another twenty-four hours without sleep.

It's never easy, navigating negotiations while building trust, and keeping my wits about me. But contrary to what my brother believes, I am just as capable as he is.

If he tries to dispute my abilities after this trip, I'll laugh in his face. My sister also thinks I can"t do this work, although she's usually quicker to give me the benefit of the doubt.

Thinking of my siblings reminds me to call my brother back. I can tell him his worries about my ability to handle this meeting weren't necessary.

Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I see he's tried to call me five more times. It just shows how hard he finds it to let go of the reins.

I feel a rush of resentment at this proof that he doesn't trust me at all.

He sent me here; why won't he just let me do my thing? Because he still sees me as his kid brother. That"s why. I know the reason, but it still annoys the shit out of me.

It's late, but I know he'll still be awake. I find his contact in my phone and press the call button. "Fuck him," I mutter to myself with annoyance. I let myself into my hotel room and kick the door shut behind me.

My brother answers almost before the first ring. "Jesus, Luca, where the fuck have you been?" He's yelling into the phone, so I move it away from my ear and put it on speaker.

"Calm down, man, fuck. I was in the meeting I told you about and put my phone on silent. I just saw your missed calls now." I"m lying, but his anger is not something I want to be dealing with right now.

"Okay, well in the future, wherever the fuck you are, and whatever the fuck you're doing, you keep your phone on. Got it?"

I sigh. "Got it." It's an old rule — keep yourself available at all times in case of issues.

The logical part of me knows why but I don't like the pressure of knowing other people can reach me whenever they want to.

"Ok."

He sighs and his tone changes from agitation to something I can't really place. "You need to come home."

"Yeah, sure. I've only got two more meetings to do tomorrow, and then I'm wrapping it up and coming home. I'll be there by Wednesday." I gave him my itinerary before I left, so he knows this.

"No, Luca. You need to come home now." My brother is good at bossing me around, but this sounds more like a desperate plea than a command.

"What happened?" I ask, my breath quickening.

My gut tells me something's not okay, and I think about the family members at home who might have been at risk before I left for Mexico.

My brother is clearly fine, but then I think about my sister. She's usually smart and good at keeping herself out of trouble. But if anyone has tried to harm her, I'd have their heads before they knew I was even coming for them.

"I don't want to have this conversation over the phone, Luca. Can you call the pilot and arrange an early morning flight back? As soon as you're home, I'll update you."

"Nuh uh, tell me now."

"Luca, I…" My phone screen suddenly goes black, and I realize that I've forgotten to charge it.

"For fuck's sake," I growl at no one but myself and run to plug it in. It takes a full three minutes to get it back on, and I dial my brother back as soon as it allows me.

"Luca," he answers in a solemn tone, not giving me a chance to explain what just happened. "It's Nonna. She's gone."

I freeze, the weight of my brother"s words sinking in like an anchor dropped to the depths of the ocean.

"Luca," he repeats. His words hang in the air, a painful echo reverberating in my mind.

Our grandmother, the anchor of our family, the woman who weathered the storms of our lives with unwavering strength, was no more.

A lump forms in my throat as I grapple with the sudden reality, one that feels inconceivable.

My mind races back to the last time I saw her, just a couple of months ago. We had laughed over coffee, discussing the places she wanted me to take her shopping upon my return. She seemed lively, full of the same vibrant energy that had defined her for as long as I could remember.

The idea that this lively, indomitable force had slipped away, leaving behind only memories, feels surreal.

"Luca?" My brother"s voice interrupts the flood of memories, pulling me back to the present.

"She held on for a long time," he continues, his own voice sounding raw with grief, "but this afternoon she took her usual nap, and when her nurse went in, she was gone. It was peaceful, and she was at home where she wanted to be."

She was almost eighty-seven years old, and it was to be expected I guess. But my heart feels like it isn't even beating anymore.

I just never thought of her ever leaving us. Not really. She always seemed so full of life. It was only in the last year or so that she even seemed sick, and she never let that fully affect her.

"Okay," I manage to utter, the word escaping my lips like a fragile whisper.

The room feels smaller, suffocating, as if the air has been sucked out. After losing my parents at a time when my core memories were still forming, Nonna Ginny became my constant, the guiding force that helped me navigate the tumultuous waters of life.

She wasn"t the stereotypical grandmother seen on TV, baking cookies and knitting in a rocker chair. No, Nonna Ginny was a force of nature, a woman who demanded respect and gave unwavering love in return.

My mind races through the lessons she imparted, the values she instilled. Loyalty above all, was her mantra, and she taught us how to stand by each other as family.

Nonna was the compass that guided us through the murky waters of life"s challenges, showing us the importance of holding on to each other in times of need.

She also had no problem telling all of us — family, friends, business associates — exactly what she thought about our attitudes, and giving us tips to improve them if she felt that's what we needed.

The realization that I could no longer seek her advice, share a laugh, or find solace in her comforting presence suddenly hits me like a tidal wave.

"Luca?" Enzo says to me, his tone cautious. "Luca, don't freak out."

I stare at the phone in my hand like I've never seen one before. I end the call and set my phone on the bed with shaking fingers.

The chaos inside of me feels like deep, dark water sucking me under. I grip my temples, trying to calm down, trying to get a hold of myself.

Nonna wasn"t just a grandmother; she was the heartbeat of our family, and I already know that her absence will leave an ache that words can"t capture.

I'm not sure I'm ready to say goodbye to the most important person in my life.

She was the only one I told about what happened to me when I tried to get out, tried to make my own way and work outside of the family business.

A collage of images rages through my mind: pain, unwilling attraction, injuries I couldn't tell anyone about. Hiding my shame, unwilling to admit that I needed to escape, break the cycle.

The pain coalesces inside of me and then implodes. A ragged scream tears from my throat, and I throw the bedside table to the ground, the lamp smashing to the floor, scattering crystal pendants across the floor.

I tear the room apart, the destruction the only possible balm for my rage, my fear, my anguish. When I finally calm down enough to stop breaking things, I stand in the destruction of my hotel room, panting.

My palm feels wet, and I hold up my hand to see that it's bleeding, a fresh cut tearing through the sensitive flesh. I mindlessly pull off my designer tie and wrap it around my hand.

I grab my phone from the mess on the bed and arrange for my jet to be ready to fly at dawn.

Then I curl up in the middle of the bed, cradling my injured hand against my chest, and drop into an uneasy sleep.