4. Luca
4
LUCA
Ana
I have to see you.
Fuck! I looked around the study where I’d been holed up with two of my sister’s lovers since this morning. One of them had killed Ana’s father the day before. The other two watched it happen, saying nothing.
The world was better for Gio Costa’s death, but I ached for Ana right now.
Me
Not right now. Nick and Lorenzo are here.
Ana
Already dividing their plunder?
Ana had wanted out for years, and every year she convinced her father to let her stay in school instead of marrying to cement an alliance or a business deal was one more year of freedom.
And now it was gone. She’d graduated. My sister killed her father’s henchman. My sister’s lover killed her father. Angelo Costa was a fucking psychopath. Her only option was marriage.
Fuck!
“You all right?” Nick Lombardi was remarkably calm for a man who’d murdered the head of one of Yorkfield’s most brutal crime families the day before. I suppose he had the right to be—my sister’s other lover was Sicily’s most fearsome assassin, and he’d protect Nick.
And so would my family.
“I’m fine,” I muttered, staring at my phone. Sofia was in jail, Gio was dead, and all I could think about was Ana—alone, miserable, and in need of a hug she didn’t know how to ask for.
Thirty minutes later, a blonde tornado whirled into the room. Lorenzo looked up with hope, but it was Ana, not Sofia.
“Y’all live like fucking pigs when there’s no one around to impress,” she snarled, sneering at the left-over takeout containers that littered the room.
I couldn’t take my eyes off her as she stood a few feet in front of the doorway, her hair a little wilder than usual, cheeks flushed, and taking deep breaths. I’d never seen her like this in public, and I shoved my chair back to go to her, damn the consequences of making our relationship public.
Her father was dead, so there was no reason to keep it a secret anymore.
She turned toward Nick, her eyes flashing, and I could see the pain in the set of her shoulders, the way she was holding herself together by a thread. “You killed my father,” she said simply.
“I did,” he answered. It was the right thing to do. He’d tormented my family for years, and now he could never do it again. But my heart ached for Ana, who’d lost her father.
“The Sicilian branch of the family is shipping me off to Europe,” she murmured.
My eyes shot to her, but she wouldn’t look at me, her gaze steady on Nick.
“When?” I asked.
When her eyes met mine, they were full of sorrow. “In a few hours.”
I stepped toward her, my heart in my throat, but she was already turning away. “Do you?—”
“Tell Sofia I love her,” Ana interrupted before I could ask if she wanted to go, if she wanted to stay, if she wanted to take my hand and run away, leaving the violence of our families and the chains that keep us apart behind. “Tell her?—”
She stared into my eyes, her expression softening and her eyes shining with unshed tears, and I wondered if she were trying to say something different, something to me. “Tell her I’ll see her again soon.”
“How soon?” I rasped, wishing I had the courage to say the unsaid out loud. I stepped toward her, and she held her hand up.
“Angelo needs to marry me off even more quickly than my father did. The people my father owed money to won’t forget his debts just because he’s dead.”
“Why don’t you just?—?”
Ana choked out a bitter laugh. “Run away? And do what? Leave everyone and everything I care about? Start over? Fall in love and live in a cottage with a white picket fence and spend the rest of my life worrying that the mafia’s going to find me and murder my family? Fuck you, Luca. Fuck you for being a man. Fuck you for not understanding a goddamned thing about the lives that women like Sofia and I lead.”
She was right.
We’d kept our relationship a secret because neither of our families would forgive the betrayal. The Costas and the Russos had hated each other for too long.
And now? My sister’s boyfriend murdered the head of the American branch of the Costas. They’d never forgive the insult if she ran away with me.
And me? My family would never forgive me. Or her. Running away with Ana was a death warrant no matter how we looked at it.
We stared into each other’s eyes until I couldn’t bear the pain any longer and looked away.
“Find a way to stay in touch,” Lorenzo said to her softly, giving her a hug, and I wanted it to be me whispering in her ear and reassuring her that everything was going to be okay.
Jealousy cracked through me like lightning. How many times had I wrapped my arms around her, to comfort her after she’d escaped a beating from her father? Or when she’d had to let some slime ball paw at her and just wanted me to fuck the memories away?
That’s how this all started. We’d known each other since we were kids, but never gave the other one a second glance until we were both hiding from our dates at a charity gala. Before I even realized what happened, we were fucking in a closet, desperate for an escape from our horrific realities. Our attraction blazed into a wild conflagration with the power to destroy everything in its path, if we didn’t keep it secret. When I realized how close Ana and my sister were, it only made each stolen moment more delicious.
“Ana, please,” I said finally, holding my hand out to hers, ready to beg. I didn’t know what I was asking for, just that my heart was cracking in two at the thought of losing her.
She turned to look at me one last time as a tear streaked down her face. Her eyes widened, as if she hadn’t expected it to fall, and she turned on her heel and strode out of the room without a backward glance.
Lorenzo raised an eyebrow. “Something you want to share with us, Luca?”
“After we murdered her father?” Nick said, pushing his chair away from the table with a harsh scrape. He patted me on the back. “I wouldn’t say a damn thing either.”
“She’ll be back,” Lorenzo said confidently.
Of course she would be. But would she ever forgive me for letting her walk out of my life as if she didn’t mean anything?
Me
Meet me tonight.
Ana
I’m leaving.
I stared at my phone, the breath knocked out of me by her silent refusal. Did she not want to see me?
I scoffed. Why would she? We’d been fucking for months, sneaking around, playing house in hotel rooms where we ordered room service, stealing away for weekends and giggling about our disguises. And now her uncle was stealing her away, sending her off so he could sell her off to the highest bidder.
Telling her how I felt would be cruel—it’s not like either of us could free ourselves from the chains that bound us to our families. She couldn’t stay, and I couldn’t offer her a goddamned thing except to stay my dirty little secret for the rest of our lives.
Realization hit me in the chest. The next time I saw Ana, she’d be arm-candy for some asshole, traded away to shore up the remnants of the Costa empire that my own sister was doggedly dismantling. She was so abused by her father, she was numb to it, didn’t even realize how awful it was half the time.
No, that was wrong. She deliberately ignored how awful it was because that was the only way she could survive.
I had to see her one last time.
Me
Please
The three dots blinked, cycling over and over, until I set my phone down and covered my eyes with my hands. Fuck. I was going to lose her, and she didn’t even know she was so much more than a casual fling to me.
Goddammit.
I cursed our families, I cursed the violence, and I cursed my two sisters who’d left—Ginevra because she wanted out, and Sofia to run her own goddamned crime family. My father never made a secret of the fact that he’d wished his daughters were men, heirs he could be proud of, instead of me.
Never enough. I wasn’t brilliant like Ginevra. Charismatic like Sofia. Ruthless like my father. Charming like my mother. Instead, I was competent. I ran my father’s operations and made him more money than ever before, but because I wasn’t flashy, he didn’t care. I was the best shot he had, but because I wasn’t carrying out hits myself, he didn’t care. And I sure as fuck had the loyalty of our men, but again, because I didn’t see the need to constantly test them, he didn’t care.
There was no space in his throne room for the sort of ruthless competence that ran American businesses in the twenty-first century. He’d eventually run the entire Russo empire to the ground, and I wouldn’t inherit shit.
But that didn’t make the sting of his disappointment hurt any less.
When my phone dinged, pulling me out of my spiraling thoughts, I scrambled for it.
Ana
Delayed by one day. Meet me at our usual spot. 10pm.
The wave of relief made my knees weak. A brief image of Ana tied to the hotel room bed, her legs forced open with a spreader bar, begging me to give her a break from making her come flashed through my head. If this was going to be my last night with Ana, I’d give her something to remember.
No, this couldn’t be about me. I’d give her one last night of peace and pleasure, the gentle escape she craved, even if I wanted to carve my name into her soul, make sure she knew who she belonged to, so that even if her uncle bound her to another man, she’d always be mine.
And I’d always be hers.
I shied away from the thought of the future, filing it for another day. Now I needed to make arrangements for tonight.
A soft knock followed by the whisper of the door opening over carpet drew me out of my reverie. I’d left Ana’s key at the desk with a hundred-dollar bill, ensuring discretion. I’d drawn the curtains and lit candles—Ana hated the characterless corporate interior of hotel rooms, but we hadn’t found a better way to meet in Yorkfield itself.
If my father caught her in my house, he’d never believe she was there for any reason but spying. And if I were to set foot in the Costa compound, they’d shoot me on sight.
Ana stepped into the bland hotel room then shut the door behind her. I drank her in, poured into a pretty summer dress, her perfect breasts high on her chest, the satin skin of her shoulders covered with the curly red wig she wore to our rendezvous, and big gold hoop earrings that she’d never otherwise wear.
Fuck, I couldn’t wait another moment to hold her in my arms.
I shoved her back against the door, spreading her legs with mine, and devoured her, inhaling her sweet citrus scent as if it were the last time I’d ever be able to. Maybe it would be.
Ana twined her arms around my neck and tangled her fingers in my hair, holding me close as my hands slid around her, cupping her luscious ass and dragging her against me.
Our tongues danced, stroking against one another. She was unbuttoning my shirt, frantically working down to my belt to unbuckle it, and I was sliding her panties down, and we were a desperate mess of arms and hands as we undressed. She tugged on her wig and tossed it to the ground, as if she couldn’t bear to wear it another moment.
Our bodies slammed together again, writhing against each other as if we couldn’t get enough skin-to-skin contact.
I’d tried to make our subterfuge into a game and only found myself falling deeper and deeper—no. Those thoughts wouldn’t help either of us right now. Tonight was about giving Ana one last distraction from her life, no matter how much it broke me to do so.
“Luca, I need—” she gasped, her plea breaking off into a whimper as I nibbled on the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder.
“I know, baby,” I murmured against her skin. I wanted to throw her on the bed, tie her up so she couldn’t move, and then eat her out until she begged for mercy, but that’s not what she wanted—not what she needed . I lifted her, wrapping her thighs around my waist and pressing her against the wall. “I need you too.”
She hooked one arm around my neck and reached between us with the other to angle my cock against her pussy, trusting that my arms would hold her.
“Fuck, you’re soaked for me,” I swore as she ran me through her folds, and I grinned when my piercing hit her clit and drew a tortured moan out of her.
“Always,” she said. The waver in her voice broke my heart, and I broke our kiss so I could look into her bottle green eyes.
“You okay?”
“Fuck me, Luca,” she commanded, without answering my question. I searched her expression for a hint of her emotional state. I didn’t move, and she shifted in my arms so she could lower herself onto me. The throaty moan that escaped her was the sexiest goddamned sound in the world. “I need you,” she said. “I need this .”
I couldn’t speak. Fucking Ana was like coming home every single time, as if inside her was exactly where I was supposed to be. When I let go of her with my right hand for a moment to hook her knee over my arm and open her up even more, she clutched at me, and shameful man that I was, I loved the feeling of her arms tight around my neck, holding onto me for safety.
“Fuck, baby, so good to me.” I lived for pleasuring this woman, for the mewls and whines that escaped her when we made love. Carefully, I pumped in and out of her, my pelvic bone sliding against her clit each time I filled her.
“More, please, Luca,” she gasped, flexing her hips and dragging me deeper into her.
“Such a good girl,” I praised her. “Telling me what you needed, coming here to take it from me.” Each snap of my hips up into her was heaven, our desperation making each moment more precious.
“Luca,” she whined. “I’m so close.”
I tamped down my selfish instinct to tease and edge her until she cried, instead continuing my litany of sweet words in her ear, telling her how beautiful she was, how perfectly she took me, how clever she was, how fucking tight her pussy was squeezing around me.
“Please,” she begged, the word a prayer on her tongue as she clenched around me.
“Say my name, baby. Tell me who you belong to,” I growled. She wouldn’t. She never had. Ana had never been mine, and no matter how much I might wish for it to be so, she’d never tempted fate by lying to me about it.
“Please,” she pleaded again.
I hitched her tighter around my waist, then pushed her hard against the wall. She dropped her head back against the door and let me fuck her the way I wanted to, until we were both crying out our releases. My rhythm slowed as I pumped in and out of her.
Fuck.
I hadn’t used a condom.
Warm pride spread through my chest. I loved the idea of filling her with my cum, of her going to sleep with me inside her, of putting a baby in this fucking goddess of a woman so she’d never leave me.
Ana slumped against me, her fingers trailing against the back of my neck. Instead of sliding her off me, I turned and carried her to the bathroom and set her on the counter beside the sink.
“Hey there,” she said, her lips forming a smile as she watched me draw a bath.
“Hey, you,” I said, smiling back at her. Ana kicked her feet against the cabinet door under the sink as I puttered around the bathroom, filling the tub with the luxury bubble bath she liked. When it was the perfect temperature, I scooped her up in my arms and deposited her in the water, delighted at her shout of shocked laughter.
“Join me?” The uncertainty in her eyes as she looked up at me broke my goddamned heart. She had to know that I’d give her anything, do anything she asked. If only she’d ask.
“Always,” I promised and slid in behind her, enveloping her with my much larger frame. She leaned back against me and let her head loll against my shoulder as we breathed in the steam together, coming back down to earth after our frantic coupling. “How’re you doing?” I asked knowing she’d lie.
“This sucks,” she answered, shocking the hell out of me. She drew shapes in the bubbles with her long fingers. “I’m not sorry he’s dead, though.”
I kissed the top of her head, but didn’t say anything.
“I wish I—” She cut herself off, then turned so she could see my face.
When Ana cupped my face with her hands, it was all I could do to stop myself from crushing her to me, making promises I’d never be able to keep, and begging her to run away with me.
She didn’t finish her sentence, so I leaned my forehead against hers. It wasn’t fair to tell her how much I cared about her now, not when she had to walk away from me forever when we woke up.
“Stay the night?” I asked her softly. She never did—it was too dangerous—but I always asked, just in case.
“Wake me up before dawn?” she whispered, surprising me again.
“Of course.” I’d have given her the fucking moon if she’d asked. Setting my alarm was the least I could do. She always came without her phone in case there was a tracker on it.
Silently, we washed each other reverently, carefully, until our touches turned frantic and we fucked again in the bathtub, then in the shower, then on the bed, until we fell into an exhausted sleep, tangled up in one another’s arms, each of us pretending to be strong for the other.
And in the morning, she was gone.