Finding Forever (The Rose City #3)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

W hen in doubt, hide behind the dessert buffet. That nugget of advice had saved Luciana Barone at family gatherings more than once, and it served her well now. The fact that her cream-colored dress—chosen for its subtlety—camouflaged nicely with the mascarpone trifle was a happy coincidence. The mountain of cream puffs, trays of tiramisu, and the seven-tiered cake that tilted like the Leaning Tower of Pisa provided a distracting cover, allowing her to be inconspicuous in the three hundred plus Italian wedding reception happening before her.

Safe. For now.

After spending the last several hours being interrogated by everyone from her aunts to her godmother’s neighbor’s daughter about her relationship status, when she might settle down, or when they could introduce her to the friend of a friend of her cousin twice removed, Lucy was desperate for a time out. Reaching for the nearest cream puff, she shoved the whole thing into her mouth and sagged behind the mound of puff pastry.

Honestly, there wasn’t much difference between the matchmaking schemes in the historical romance novels she favored and the average Italian family at any point in history. If you were past a certain age and single, then there was something wrong with you, and at least a dozen mamas were out to find you a husband. They weren’t discreet about it, either. And an enormous wedding like this one was their preferred place to strike. It was for the best her own mother wasn’t there.

With her parents both bedridden by a nasty flu, and her glamorous sister working on a movie set up in Canada, Lucy had been the lucky one who got to board a flight from San Francisco to Portland and represent her family at her cousin Mariana’s big day.

One more hour and it would be midnight, an acceptable time to slip out of the wedding without being questioned as to why she wasn’t having fun, or if she had someplace better to be. Until then, she’d remain in her current location and attempt to disregard the growing pressure in her bladder. She would have hidden in the bathroom, but that was dangerous territory. There she’d run into someone who wouldn’t hesitate to give her the third degree about why, at the ripe age of twenty-nine, she’d attend the most upscale wedding of the decade without a date. It didn’t help that the newlywed Mariana was four years younger than her.

Lucy sighed as she reached for another cream puff. What the hell, the skirt of her satin dress was pleated, understated, and elegant but, more importantly, it provided plenty of room for bloating...or whatever name you gave it.

“Aren’t those addicting?” Nico Barone asked as he sauntered up to the buffet. He was in his mid-thirties, good looking in that typical Italian way. Olive skin, sharp features, dark hair slicked to the side. He wore a navy suit and smelled of fresh cigarettes and expensive cologne. It didn’t overpower, nothing like her Zio Gambo, whose fragrance rivaled the perfume counter at Milan airport’s Duty-Free shop, but it wasn’t subtle either. “I’ve already had at least three, but I can’t resist one more. I hear Mariana had them flown in from New York. We can’t let them go to waste.”

As he leaned over to grab a cream puff, his arm grazed Lucy’s boobs. Instinctively, she almost slapped his arm away, but his impassive face left her unsure whether he even noticed or if invading her personal space came naturally to him. So, she settled for a small side-step in the opposite direction.

Good Lord, just when she thought she’d survived the worst of the night.

He shot her a cocky grin before taking a slow bite of his cream puff, and it took everything in Lucy not to gag. Nico. Her father’s cousin’s son. Which made him her second cousin. A man who existed solely to ruin her life. Not that he saw it that way. No, Nico thought he was God’s gift to the Barone family. The personal Messiah come to save her father’s cabinet-making company from extinction.

“You know,” he said, chewing thoughtfully. “This could be our wedding someday.”

Lucy tried to stifle her choke, but the damn pastry got caught in her airway and there was no hiding the retching sound she made. After a few seconds of hacking and Nico awkwardly patting her back, she cleared her throat and caught her breath.

“Are you okay, cara mia ?” he asked, sounding more embarrassed than concerned, his gaze darting around to check for witnesses. “You shouldn’t take that big of a bite next time.”

Clutching her aching throat, she gaped at the sheer nerve of this man .

“It wasn’t the bite, Nico,” she croaked. “It was your suggestion that we’d ever get married.” It was impossible. For so many reasons.

“Ah, bella . Don’t get too excited. There’s much that needs to happen between now and then.” And just when she thought he couldn’t get any more delusional, he held his hand out to her. “Dance with me.”

Situations like this were tricky; she had to tread carefully. Nico was part of the family. Her father loved him, intended to entrust his entire business to him. A business she’d wanted and lived for her entire life. She had to keep her eye on her goal. If she ever had any hope of taking over Barone & Sons, being nasty to Nico wouldn’t help her cause a single iota. But Nico, like her father, enjoyed a good negotiation. Maybe she could reason with him. So she went against her instinct to punch him in the nose and put her hand in his.

With a victorious smile, he led her to the dance floor filled with glittering dresses and tailor-made suits, then looped his arm around her waist, drawing her closer to his chest than she needed to be. She angled her nose away from the waft of cologne that stung her already sensitive throat.

Focus on your goal.

“So, um, Nico,” she started as she swayed side to side with him. The live band was playing a more upbeat song, but Nico had set a slow pace, leaving Lucy to rock along awkwardly. “Don’t you miss Udine?” She referenced the province in Italy her family was from.

He’d been here for the last year insisting her father needed help easing into semiretirement. A fact that irked her daily.

His shoulder shrugged under her hand. “More opportunity in America. ”

Yeah, like taking over my father’s company . She shoved away the bitterness that crept around the edges of her mind. No point.

“I don’t want you to have unrealistic expectations, cara mia , but when we marry, it will benefit both of us. The family will be stronger, more unified. We can merge my father’s business in Italy with the one your father built in San Francisco.” His grip on her waist shifted as he moved them deeper into the crowd of dancers. “Once you’ve helped me settle in as head of the company, you can take time for yourself, have a couple of our children, raise the family.”

Lucy rolled her eyes. Who was getting ahead of themselves now?

“Look, Nico, I understand you came here intending to demonstrate your interest in our families’ businesses, but you should know”—she twisted in his arms so she could catch his eye— “we’re never getting married.”

The poor fool looked truly shocked.

“And,” she continued, keeping her voice neutral. “I have no intention of letting my father hand his company over to you, not when I’ve worked for it my entire life.”

To her surprise, Nico smiled and pulled her closer. “Of course you’ll marry me. It makes the most sense for the family, especially because you are so familiar with the business. Cara , you know your father doesn’t wish for you to take over his company without a man by your side. He named it Barone & Sons after all, did he not?”

Thank you for rubbing that one fact into my face, cuz . The one burn she’d never soothe. After immigrating to America, her father had built a successful cabinet-making business. Luciano Barone had achieved the immigrant fairytale using nothing but hard work and long hours. For her entire childhood, he’d been at the shop seven days a week, only lately allowed himself Sundays off as he eased toward semiretirement.

In retrospect, she, her younger sister, and their mother lacked nothing. She and Vanessa had enjoyed a childhood filled with activities like swim and dance lessons and movies with friends. In Lucy’s case there were frequent trips to bookshops, and in her sister’s, endless visits to the mall—all while her father was at his cabinet-making shop. And she didn’t have a single memory of him complaining. She didn’t even remember him taking a sick day. She admired him more than anyone. He’d been her hero her entire life.

And she’d been nothing but a disappointment to him from the moment she’d entered the world. Because no matter how hard she worked, studied, and shadowed him at the office and workshop, picking up the trade as she went, she’d never be what he truly wanted. A son.

Nico was the closest thing her father had to a son. His favorite cousin’s son, eager and willing to immigrate to America and take over her father’s company. Barone & Sons…run by her second cousin. Despite her being right here, ready and dying to do the same thing.

A familiar temper slid through her, filling her with anger and frustration, and Lucy twisted in Nico’s arms, needing the space to cool her rapidly heating mood.

Annoyingly, he just tugged her closer. “Luciana, listen to me. Being married will be as good as having the company yourself. You will have title and none of the work. You can enjoy the exact life you have now. But as my wife.”

Ya, no. Lucy pushed back with as much effort as she could without causing a scene. He allowed some space between them but didn’t let her go.

“Nico, listen to me. I will never stop working at Barone & Sons. I love my job overseeing the finances and coordinating the bigger projects. You do know I got us the last three big contracts, right? I’ll get more too.” A lot more, she was just getting started putting their name on the map. “But more importantly, you and I will never be married. We can’t be married.”

“Nonsense. Second cousins can be married in America. I checked. An estimated 0.2 percent of marriages in America are between second cousins.” He sounded like he’d memorized the first statistic that had popped up on Google. “It’s not as uncommon as you think.”

Right. Because that was the statistic she wanted to be part of. “That’s not what I mean,” she clarified, and a different pain lanced her chest, tearing an old wound. Memories flashed, but she shook her head clear of them. Don’t go there. There’s enough shit happening right now.

“ Bella , you don’t need to worry about what people will think. No one will even have to know about our family connection.”

“Nico, please.” This was ridiculous. His audacity had become intolerable. She struggled away once more.

“May I cut in?”

Lucy froze. The voice had to be a hallucination . She was in Portland at her cousin Mariana’s wedding. Far, far away from San Francisco and the ghosts that haunted her there. This must be because she’d almost thought about him. Her over-active imagination had conjured his disembodied voice. Nothing more.

“Excuse me?” Nico said to the phantom voice.

If he heard it too, then there was no denying reality. A chill swept through her, followed immediately by a hot sweat. Her body recognized him before her eyes saw him, his energy consuming the surrounding space, his scent—an addictive blend of bergamot, fresh wood, and him— filled her, soothing her raw throat, and warming her lungs.

Nonononono . What was he doing here?

“We aren’t finished dancing,” Nico said in a clipped tone.

“Yes. You are.” Joel Morgan’s rich baritone wrapped around her like her favorite memory…and her worst one, before he moved into her peripheral vision.

And then there he was. Every gorgeous, masculine inch of him, dressed in a black tuxedo befitting the occasion. His gray eyes sharp and piercing, though they had not yet moved to her. They were fixed, cold and hard, on Nico.

Four years had passed since Joel had been this close to her. She’d gone to great lengths to make sure of that.

What was he doing here now? In a different city? At her cousin’s wedding?

Nico tensed, his position threatened, and his grip tightened around her waist. Lucy twisted out of his hold, but he yanked her back, his fingers digging into her hips as he secured her against him. She pressed her palms against his chest, intending to shove him away, when she caught a muscle jump in Joel’s jaw.

Uh oh.

Some men yelled when they became furious, some punched walls or slammed doors, others got sullen or grumpy. But when Joel Morgan got angry, his jaw ticked.

And he hadn’t even looked at her yet.

“You are interrupting our dance,” Nico bit out, his Italian accent clipped and sharp.

“Let. Her. Go.”

Nico scoffed. “Why would I do such a thing?” His gaze flicked to her. “ Cara mia , let me take you away from this mad man.” He shifted to leave.

Lucy’s feet decided now was a good time to remain stuck in place, as if she wore cement shoes. And the way her insides churned, she may as well have been.

“ Cara ?” Nico looked at her, confusion marring his bravado.

“I—I’m not going with you,” she managed, wishing the ground would open and swallow her whole. Put her out of this misery and humiliation.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Nico grabbed her arm roughly, tugging her in his direction, and Joel’s hand shot out in a blur, gripping Nico’s wrist with so much force he released her in an instant.

“Last warning,” Joel growled, his natural authority infusing each word. “Get your hands off my wife.”