Chapter 6
6
Layne
O f course, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Beta is a De Luca. Out of all the people in the world I could have helped, it had to be him because, clearly, I don’t have enough gangsters in my past.
The big difference between Rocco and Matteo, aside from their designation, is that Matteo is no wannabe gangster. He is the real deal.
After Jana’s warning, I spent time familiarizing myself with who’s who in this zoo. Being ignorant is not only a choice, it’s a dangerous one. It only took me a handful of hours of reading news articles to determine the main players. The Albanians and the Irish deserve more of my time, but as Jana said, this area and a lot of the surrounding cities fall under the rule of the Italians—otherwise known as Cosa Nostra.
The Italian Cosa Nostra is embedded in global history as much as their counterparts—the Irish Mob, the Russian Bratva, or the Japanese Yakuza. More often than not, one Family rules absolute back in the motherland, but Kings and Queens don’t get involved in the day to day. They have appointed representatives, who are as dangerous and driven as they are. Here, the Gambrillos rule on behalf of the Cosa Nostra. The Gambrillos include another family, De Luca. They might have different names, but they share their Mafia heritage and syndicate pedigree with those in Sicily.
Like Jana warned, the Italians own this town, which is why I haven’t stepped a foot out of the zone marked safe. At least, until now. Not once in the past few weeks did I even look outside of the neutral zone, and now I was standing in the house of one of the key players in the criminal world, wearing his jacket after saving his ass.
I know exactly what’s going to happen next; it’s like a Hollywood script. He even alluded to it already.
Before I can open my mouth to plead my case about letting me go, he squeezes my hand, not even keeping up the facade of limping anymore, dragging me deeper into the lion’s den.
Because that’s what I walked into.
The home ripples with energy, and it’s hard not to get caught up in the lethal seduction and the blatant displays of power and strength. They don’t hide their wealth, either. They unashamedly rub it in the face of every person who walks through their home, with expensive artwork and prize collectables hung or displayed like trophies everywhere.
Matteo squeezes my hand again before guiding me past a Banksy original, hanging opposite a tableful of relics that look like they’ve come straight out of a museum and straight into a sunken living room with the biggest black leather sectional I’ve ever seen. I honestly want to start rolling around on it, like a kitten in heat, covering myself in their scent. It literally calls to me like a siren’s song.
“Matteo, you’re back…” A voice pulls my attention away from all the things I want to do, to the shadows past a doorway.
I forget to swallow, hell, I barely blink or move a muscle when the shadows fall away from the Alpha who spoke.
He is obnoxiously good looking, and I’m happy with him believing he is at the top of any goddamn pyramid, because by god, I believe him. If lethal is your thing, that is.
His hair is black like night and glossy, it looks a lot like polished ebony. His jawline is sharp enough to cut glass, and his cheekbones are to die for, but all the romantic descriptions stop when I look into his eyes. If eyes could stop traffic, his would be the ones to accomplish it. A vibrant blue—nearly electric—that holds hypnotic, god-like properties. As I look into their depths, I have no hesitation saying he has little to no fear too.
He stares at me as much as I do him. I’m pretty amazed I got it so right with the apex predator thing, because this Alpha doesn’t think he is the top—he is the top. The way he has all my senses and reactions starting to blitz out should have me running for the hills. But I know, as clearly as I know my own name, that if I run, he won’t stop chasing me.
I’ve never felt as much like actual prey as I do at this moment. Instead of laying off and giving me a break from his intensity, from the captivation of his gaze, he adds even more fuel to the fire when he stalks closer. Slowly.
“You never mentioned you were bringing a guest with you. Such a fucking stunning one too.”
Matteo chuckles softly. “Not just a guest.”
“How so?” the Alpha growls without breaking the way he’s trapped me with his eyes.
“She saved my life.”
The scoff that bubbles out of my mouth snaps the strange but sizzling hold the new guy has over me. And as soon as it breaks, I manage to take a step away from him and Matteo. The distance helps clear my head, and one step turns into two, but before I can take another, I walk smack-dab into something.
Spinning to see what I backed into, I realize it’s a mirror, and before I can add seven years of bad luck to an impressive list of this morning’s achievements, I reach out to catch it. But instead of a cold surface, my fingers dig into an arm. An arm that belongs to the man that was just behind me.
I never believed in paranormal activity until that point.
“You good, baby?”
I do one of those cartoon double takes before realizing Alpha version 2.0 is wearing a black shirt instead of a white one. His voice is lower, lazier, but it’s a ploy to drag you closer until he can get you. I’d put money on him being the devilish one.
I look up at his ebony hair, expecting small curling horns on his forehead as proof, but get sidetracked, my thoughts blitzed by his wicked smirk.
“Matty, who’s this?”
The white-shirted Alpha answers. “She saved Matty’s life.”
“You need to nearly die more often.” The devil has an alluring chuckle—of course, he does. Like black magic, it dances over my skin, making me shiver.
I manage to let go of his arm before I take a few small, measured steps, to make sure I don’t trip on anything or anybody else, and the four of us end up forming a perfect square. At least, this way, I can see the three of them.
“Speaking of dying, I need someone to help me out. But like I said in the car with our guys, we need to talk.”
“About?” I interrupt.
“You want a drink before we start talking about what you’re hiding under my jacket? I mean, I probably won’t bleed out if you want to talk first. I'm just concerned about infection,” Matteo says, aiming for helpless, but I’m catching on to his acting skills.
“You got shot?” The guy in the black shirt laughs. And, like my first assessment, the way he laughs is pure evil. My body reacts again, this time with goose bumps. I thank god for Hannah suggesting I use the scent blockers and suppressor tabs. If I were an unmedicated Omega in the presence of these three, I’d be doing a lot worse than I am now.
One thought of Jana, and I panic. “Shit!” I hiss.
Almost as quick as I flipped, they do too. The mood twists again as the three of them take a step closer, and instead of being stalked, being looked at like they want to eat me up or torture me with their endless teasing, they get very serious, and very protective, in no time at all.
“What?” they say as one, all taking a step closer.
“Stop!” I hold my hand up. “Stop walking. Stop talking. Maybe stop breathing… And you try not to die.” I pin Matteo with a glare, stopping him from moving, before asking nicely, “Did you happen to grab my phone?”
Matteo wets his lips, and already, I see him lining me up for something. “In my pocket. I can’t move, though.” He winces. “Feel free to dig through my pants and see what you can find, like last time.”
Black-shirt guy next to me laughs, dirtier this time. “What happened last time, Matty?”
“She totally felt me up.”
“I did not,” I squawk, blazing red like a tomato. Before this can get any stranger, I cross over to him and hold my hand out expectantly. “Please, I need to call Jana.”
“Who’s Jana?” black-shirt Alpha asks.
He glares expectantly, and since it’s not a huge secret, I don’t have a problem answering. “My boss. She and her pack will be worried if I don’t call or check in.”
Then his twin starts his interrogation. “You live with them?”
“Not your business,” I offer blandly.
“Wrong.” He scoffs, tugging on the sleeve of his white shirt. “Everything about you is my business, now that you’re in my home. Answer the question—do you live with them?”
I consider staring him down, but that would be like trying to climb Mt. Everest in a pair of flip-flops. Damn near impossible, and dangerous. The way he looks at me has the words forming on my lips before I can stop them.
“I borrow the use of a room they own. It’s above the restaurant where I work. Who are you, by the way?”
“Valentine De Luca.” He grins like a shark before pointing to his brother, acting like a condescending prick when he points out the obvious connection they share. “My twin is Dante. And the three of us are Pack De Luca.”
Figuring that’s enough sharing, I hit call and walk into a room adjoining the living room, one that is a lot lighter and a lot less heavy with their presence.
Jana picks up after a couple of rings. “You want to come up for breakfast? Hannah is making pancakes.”
I can see them now, all sitting around their marble island, drinking their coffee, chatting about the reservations for the night, because that’s how it’s been every time I have joined them.
“Not today. I’m not home, actually.”
I hear her smacking the countertop, and the chatter falls away. “Are you safe, Layne?”
That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? And the answer is strange. On one hand, I do feel safe, despite being in the home of known players in the Mafia. While Matteo shares features with the twins, suggesting they’re sharing DNA, there are enough differences to make me think Matteo might be a cousin or something. But how they’re related isn’t really my concern—my safety is. Jana’s question makes me double-check how I’m feeling, and it’s an easy answer, surprisingly.
“I am.”
“Where are you?”
I take a slow, steadying breath, feeling like I’m about to disappoint someone more like a mother or grandmother. “You wouldn’t believe what happened earlier, but all that matters is that I do feel fine. I helped someone, and I’m still with them.”
“Are you intentionally being light on the details, or are you in a situation where you can’t freely speak?”
“Light on the details. If I wasn’t feeling safe, you know I’d do something about it.”
And Jana does know, because I told her what happened with Rocco and how I got myself out of a dangerous situation already.
“And you know I trust you implicitly.”
She trusts me, and I know it too. I have all the details to her business that I’m not sure some of her long-term staff know, including bank details, where the safe is and the code. I have keys to her penthouse, plus keys to the restaurant. It’s never been a test of loyalty with her; it’s about giving me power because that’s the type of person she is. Now she’s giving me that same respect.
“I’ll see you at work,” I say. “I’m working dinner service.”
“If you need us beforehand and it’s unsafe, just text anything random, and I’ll track the phone.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“Be safe, Layne. Don’t forget, you’re a good judge of character. I mean, look at us, we’re family now.”
“True. See you in a bit.”
She doesn’t do that passive-aggressive double-checking of my decision-making thing where people say one thing but don’t mean it. Instead, she hangs up, trusting me but also reminding me to trust myself.
I might have stumbled into the world of the De Luca Pack, but my instincts are telling me these three are fierce protectors and jumping the gun I’m also going to say they would be exceptional, dominant lovers.
I have no excuse for the way my imagination locks on to the lovers thing, but this pack is literally sex on a stick. Clearly, it isn’t the right time, but there’s no fighting my imagination running rampant with the wild lion, apex predator thing. I have to stand in the hallway, squeezing my eyes shut, shaking some logic and survival sense back into myself for a few minutes before I go in search of them. I follow the sound of the three of them talking and find them in the kitchen. Matteo is standing in a tight pair of black Calvin Klein boxer briefs, and spread out on the island is a medical kit with all the trimmings. Dante is already at work, and considering the way he focuses and how quickly he sews, it’s obvious this isn’t his first time fixing a bullet hole.
As I stand and watch, no one says a word. Dante finishes up quickly, then walks out of the kitchen.
“You good?” Matteo asks as he starts cleaning up.
I should answer, but a half-dressed Matteo is enough to make my head explode. Matteo looks damn fine in a suit, but out of one? Jesus fucking Christ. The flash of skin I saw in the alley did not prepare me for how incredible his body actually is. I am so used to being with Alphas, their size and presence stealing the opportunity to notice the other details, but this Beta has me enthralled. He has a special something about him that fans the simmering connection we share.
When I stop ogling him, my eyes move to his, and the thing between us is well on its way to being a raging firestorm.
His brown eyes smolder with desire, and he does nothing to hide it.
Desire is easy.