6. Renzo
For the next two days, I had no time to think. I lacked the time to feel anything other than suffocating frustration.
Leaving Giulia the way I had wasn’t easy, but those blissful, stolen moments in her room, when I played with her on her bed and made her come so beautifully on my hand, were all that kept me sane in her absence.
In Gio’s study, at the warehouse where soldiers and capos met, and in and out of other offices, I was thrust straight into all that Luka once had to handle. While I had been dismissed and free to do as I pleased, he had to speak with all these capos. He had checked in with soldiers. And he’d had his thumb on the pulse of so many secret operations that I felt overwhelmed by it all.
My life was no longer mine. My time was not mine to do with as I saw fit.
I was owned, ruled by the expectations of my father. Without Luka here to deal with all the business, I was screwed.
I didn’t begrudge him. He was killed, and I never would have wished him dead for any reason. But at the same time, I felt stuck and spiraling out of control.
If I wasn’t listening to the capos explain details to me, I was scrambling to remember who was who. And if I wasn’t paying attention to the autopsy that had been done on Luka—confirming that he’d ingested a poison placed in his drink at the wedding reception—I was nodding along and wondering how in the hell my brother had ever handled so many things at once.
No wonder he was such a cold-hearted, aloof asshole.
No wonder he looked vacant and sinister.
He’d never had a chance to live. To just be. And now, it seemed I wouldn’t, either.
Instead of mourning his death, Gio and the capos within the Family pushed forward with figuring out who’d killed him. If this was the death of an older member, someone expected to pass away, then yes, preparations would be arranged to celebrate the end of their life with meals, parties, gatherings, and meetings.
No one was celebrating a goddamn thing as the day of Luka’s funeral approached. We were all concentrating on identifying the killer. I was fixated on avenging him and killing his murderer. It wasn’t shocking that the funeral was to be held so hastily. Respect would be paid later, or as Gio worded it more than once with a nagging tone, I could pay the ultimate respect by filling his shoes and killing his killer.
Once I find them, I will.
I drew in a steadying breath as I stood next to my father at the funeral. Aligned with the top leaders and capos, I waited for all the guests to file in.
While none of us were in the mood to grieve Luka and succumb to the loss of a family member, we were alert and eager to see what developments could happen as he was laid to rest. Just like the wedding had been, this grouping of the Mafia’s elite could shake loose some clues.
I tracked the entrance of them all. Marcus and Nickolas Romano. Gio nodded at them, greeting them as they arrived, but I beat him to the punch, asking what he had to be struggling to understand.
“Where is Cecilia?” I asked, holding up the line at the entrance to the church. Other guests—minor associates within the Families—filed in around them, perhaps too inferior to suspect that they should pay their respects personally before the ceremony began.
Marcus Romano lifted his chin, eyeing me carefully. Even though he was about the same age as Gio, the Mafia lord looked good. Buff and fit, like he didn’t work out for the sake of staying healthy but to remind us all that he could still kick ass.
“She’s not here,” Nickolas snapped, implying I was an imbecile to inquire.
“Not here?” Gio furrowed his brow. “I don’t understand. She wasn’t married to him for long, but she was his wife.” He gestured toward the altar. Just three days ago, Luka and Cecilia stood at the wide level where a single casket stood waiting now. “How is she not here ?”
“She’s not available,” Marcus replied, smoothing down the lapels of his suit.
“Why not?” I persisted. “Where is she?”
“She’s not here,” Nickolas repeated, tense and impatient.
“I fucking see that. What I don’t understand is why she isn’t willing to come to her husband’s funeral.”
Gio shot me a stern look.
“Let us be seated.” Marcus dismissed me, looking further into the church and gesturing for Nickolas to go with him. His son wasn’t letting it go, though. He narrowed his eyes, seeming to dare me to speak up again.
Once they moved on, Gio caught my gaze and shook his head slightly.
“She married him and can’t fucking show up?” I hissed.
“She’s always been… delicate.”
I huffed, nodding at people as they entered. This tradition of greeting guests before the ceremony didn’t make much sense to me, but I appreciated the chance to notice who was where.
And who doesn’t bother to show up.
“Delicate. But you wanted Luka to marry her.”
“Don’t start,” Gio warned.
“Is she hiding?” I wondered aloud.
“It hardly matters now.”
I squinted at him, amazed that he could be this dumb. Cecilia was the first one who noticed Luka was dead. Of course that woman mattered in all of this.
Before I could speak with him any further, the Acardis arrived.
Isabella held her head up high, scanning the crowds as Rocco sighed. He nodded at me and Gio, a weak acknowledgment of a greeting, but like usual, he didn’t seem happy to be there. Giulia followed her parents inside, dipping her chin at me, then Gio.
I bit the inside of my cheek, watching this gorgeous woman as she made brief eye contact with me. That mere glance of her dark-brown gaze heated me up, and all I could think of was how she’d gasped against my mouth when she came. Licking my lips, I fought a growl of need, knowing that this wasn’t the time nor place to be fantasizing about tasting her tartly sweet lips again.
This was the first time we’d encountered each other since I snuck out of her room. I had no clue when I’d be able to steal another moment with her again. I was already overtaxed and too busy with this investigation into Luka’s death and taking over his role. Being interrupted from playing with her or fucking her sweet pussy was a punishment I didn’t want to suffer, but I knew that I couldn’t afford the distraction of wanting her.
I had to focus. I had to avenge Luka, and staring at this raven-haired beauty was not going to help that cause at all.
I straightened, severing this pull to stare back at her, and she moved along after her parents.
Telling myself to focus didn’t do a damn thing. All through the funeral ceremony, I fought the nagging draw to her. More than once, I caught myself turning her way and hoping to make eye contact. Simply knowing she was near had me on edge, and it became a habitual torture to forbid myself from seeking her out.
At the wake, I struggled even more. She remained near her parents, but without the setting of the church dictating that we pay attention to the priest and the casket holding my brother, it felt like a game to walk past each other without stopping to speak.
Even if I did find a chance to snag her and tug her aside for a private moment, I knew better than to take that risk.
Tensions ran high. Unlike the fake respect people showed at the church, here, over food and drinks, guests seemed looser and more prone to arguing.
No one got along, and as I finally headed toward the bar for a drink, I rubbed my brow and figured war would break out sooner than later.
Aside from the usual scrimmages and disagreements that always peppered the conversations in our world, accusations continued to be flung all over the place. No one was coming out and accusing anyone of killing Luka, but lips were loose. People talked.
And everyone made sure to keep their drinks close and covered with their hands. I couldn’t blame them for being nervous after the heir to the Bernardi wealth was assassinated at the last party.
Nothing new was learned, though. All through the wake, Gio and I conversed with many. We both checked in with the capos who were listening and sneaking around. This wasn’t just a send-off or mock celebration for Luka’s life. It was an opportunity to spy and learn who might have killed him.
Nothing. That was what we learned. A fat load of nothing. All the guests remained on edge, and the overall vibe of the gathering was one of anxiety.
Nickolas and Rocco fell prey to the tension first. I wasn’t near them when they broke into a fight, but two capos stood by in the parking lot as the men used their fists on each other.
And that was why when Giulia approached the bar, I sympathized with the fatigue and irritation shown on her expressive face.
The whole afternoon and evening, I did my best to avoid her, but I didn’t move away when she made it clear that she was coming for a drink. She looked like she needed it.
“Are they done out there?” I asked, mildly interested.
She sighed, shaking her head slightly. “I think so.” Casting a glance over her shoulder, she grimaced. “I don’t even want to know what that was about.”
I shrugged. “Tensions are high.”
“And Nickolas is an angry asshole who always wants to fight someone over something.”
I nodded, entertained that she knew this. He was my peer, and it was common knowledge that Nickolas Romano was a hothead. But no woman—no properly obedient and quiet Mafia daughter—would ever share her opinion like that so freely.
Except her.
“My mother’s going to be furious, nagging at him all night for ‘dragging down the Acardi name’,” she groused.
“She doesn’t like it when he fights?” I guessed.
“She doesn’t like it when he fights and everyone sees how weak and old he is and that he loses.”
Fair enough. It wasn’t a pretty image. Then again, if Nickolas offended Rocco, the man would have to stand up and fight back.
I couldn’t ignore how easily she confided in me. While I suspected she might only be freer with her words because we'd succumbed to lust, I knew I had to take advantage anyway.
Giulia knew the same people I did. She might not realize the worth of the nuggets of information people might share around her. Like the other women and daughters of our world, she filed into the background, submissive and not expected to have her own thoughts. If she overheard anything, something people might be too nervous to tell me …
“Giulia. We need to talk.” I slid my forearms along the bar top, edging closer to her without looking up and facing her. She caught on, not glancing at me either. We had to speak but not let anyone realize that we were. We were enemies, or at least our Families were.
“For fuck’s sake, Renzo. Here? Now?”
“Where’s Cecilia?” I whispered as I brought my glass to my lips, hiding the movement of my mouth in case anyone was watching us.
She stiffened. “What?”
“Where is Cecilia? Have you heard?”
Through my peripheral vision, I watched her frown. “I thought you’d want to talk about…”
“No.” I didn’t want to talk about how good she felt or gloat about proving her wrong, that I was thoroughly capable of pleasuring a woman—pleasuring her. If I had my way, I’d prefer to repeat that action, to steal her away and fuck her like I’ve been fantasizing about since the moment I first touched her pussy on the patio.
I dared to look at her, letting her see the desire I doubted I’d ever be able to dial down for her.
She swallowed. Her throat flexed with the force of that motion, and I felt triumphant to know I’d unsettled her and had gotten her this flustered.
“I don’t… know.” She cleared her throat again, dropping back into this secret conversation.
If she were any other woman, she’d fuss and insist that we talk about what we did or put me on the spot to demand more. Something. But she understood the assignment. I was only speaking to her to get intel, and she wasn’t going to withhold it or use that against me.
“She’s not here,” she added as she lifted her glass to also cover up what she said.
I know that. “I am capable of making that observation on my own.”
“But I heard a few asking about where she is. My mother is very curious about it too.”
I risked another direct glance at her, raising one brow. This was going somewhere now. Isabella Acardi always snooped in other people’s business.
“She’s been asking and gossiping,” she replied. “And it seems like many think Cecilia ran away and is hiding.”
“Where—” Fuck. I caught a reflection in a bottle on the bar’s shelves, and it was enough to make me shut up and leave. Speak of the devil. Isabella Acardi was coming straight for her.
Without finishing my conversation with Giulia, I was wrenched away from her once more.
I didn’t want to be caught talking with the enemy, and I didn’t want this woman to know I was sort of using her daughter as a secret source of intel, either. Keeping my distance from Isabella was necessary, but at the same time, I loathed how it kept me away from her daughter whom I craved.
After I left Giulia to deal with her mother, I ran into my parent. Gio stopped me in the hallway leading to the restrooms, and I sighed. I was exhausted of his presence. He wasn’t leaning on me for emotional support. I was just the shove-in, the replacement for the heir he’d lost. From a life of never speaking to him, out of sight and out of mind, this was a heavy adjustment to get used to.
“You need to figure out who killed Luka,” he reminded me.
I clenched my jaw, furious with his nagging.
I know!
I didn’t need him to tell me again. It went without saying that I’d be expected to avenge my brother. Regardless of how we’d never been close, I would never sit back and slack in this duty.
“I am counting on you to seek justice for him,” he growled. “And the sooner you can tell me that you’ve taken care of his killer, the better you can move forward as my next-in-line.”
I was sick of this. I knew. I didn’t require any more instructions, and I shoved away from him, desperate to have a moment to myself.