Chapter 7
Luciano
“Here.” I slide the phone box across the library table toward Frankie.
She eyes it warily, her big blue eyes narrowing into two suspicious slits as she picks it up like it might explode. “What’s this?”
“What does it look like?” I retort, settling into my seat next to her. “It’s a phone.”
“I can see it’s a phone,” she says, turning it over like contraband. “Why are you giving it to me?”
“Because you don’t have one, and I’m sick of hauling my ass to the library, thinking you’ll bail if I’m late again.”
“I would. I’ve been watching the clock. A minute later, and I wouldn’t be here.”
“Oh, I know.” I smirk. “That’s why you’re getting the phone. So you don’t ditch me if I’m two seconds late.”
“Doesn’t mean I’ll wait for you either way,” she quips back nonchalantly. “But that’s beside the point. I can’t take this.” She slides the phone back toward me.
“Yes, you can. And you will.” I push it right back.
“No, Lucky. I can’t.”
“And why not?”
“For so many reasons.”
“Name one.”
“For starters, I wouldn’t be able to pay you back for it.”
“Hence why it’s a gift,” I say slowly to drive the point home. “You don’t need to pay me back.”
“I still can’t keep it,” she insists. “I wouldn’t even have the money to put minutes on it anyway.”
“It’s a company phone,” I say simply. “Already paid for.”
Her face immediately twists in suspicion again. “Company?”
“Yeah. My dad’s.”
“Then hell no.” She shoves the box back at me. “I’m not taking a phone your father paid for.”
“It’s a write-off, Frankie. Don’t even sweat it.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Goddamn it, Frankie, just take the phone!”
A few people turn to stare, whispering amongst themselves, teasing grins all over their stupid-ass faces.
Frankie immediately shrinks into her chair, her fire dimming under the weight of their attention.
I hate that. I’ve noticed it before. She seems to pull inward as if trying to disappear whenever people focus on her. It’s so unlike her, and well, I don’t like it.
Fuck it.
“Grab your stuff,” I say, shoving her books into her bag.
“What are you doing?” she protests, but I’m already slinging her backpack over my shoulder.
“I’m getting us the hell out of here. If I wanted to be gawked at like a sideshow freak, I’d join a damn circus.”
I grab the back of her chair and gently nudge it out, helping her up before guiding her toward the exit.
“You’re not dragging me into the woods again, are you?” She eyes me skeptically. “Because we both know how well that ended last time.”
“I don’t need the reminder.” I grimace.
My junk still hasn’t forgiven her for that little stunt she pulled on me a week ago.
“So where are we going?”
“Not Uncle Sal’s mansion, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Her brow furrows. “Wait… Uncle Sal? So you weren’t lying. That really wasn’t your family’s house?”
“I told you it wasn’t.”
I should have kept that tidbit to myself since, as far as the world is concerned, Uncle Salvatore’s mansion is my family home. But I got a kick from her eyes almost popping out of their sockets when she thought we had more than one house.
In truth, we have more property in Chicago than even I know about, let alone around the world. But home… There’s only one place my siblings and I call home, and it’s nothing like the lavish mansion she visited.
“Did I meet him?” she asks, trying to recall if she was introduced to anyone named Sal that day.
“Can’t meet the dead.”
Her face immediately softens. “Oh. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” I say with a shrug. “I never met him, either. He was gone long before I was born. But he was like a father to my dad, so I guess that makes him what? A grandfather figure to me, maybe? I don’t know. But his memory lives in us, that’s for damn sure.”
There wouldn’t be an Outfit without Uncle Sal.
“You sure do have a big family,” she says softly, a strange sadness coloring her voice.
“It’s bigger than you think,” I say with a grin—one that vanishes the second I catch her frown.
Shit. Why do I always forget she doesn’t have a family?
The only people she’s got are the other orphans, like Darius, and the nuns, like her precious Sister Margaretta. Neither of which exactly rolled out the welcome mat for me.
Tact, asshole. Tact.
I clear my throat. “Anyway, I’m not taking you back to the mansion. But I do have the perfect place for our study sessions.”
“The library was fine.”
“Was it?” I arch a brow.
“Yes.” She levels me with a sharp look. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you get weird when people walk past us? It’s like you don’t want to be seen with me.” I clutch my chest dramatically. “Talk about a blow to the ego.”
“And we all know you have a big one.” She grins, her usual sass creeping back in.
“Trust me, Frankie. My ego is the smallest thing I have in comparison to my other God-given attributes.” I wink.
“Oh, yeah? Like what? And don’t you dare say your dick,” she warns.
“I was going to say my winning personality, but I have to say I’m flattered how your mind immediately went there.”
I shit you not, but Frankie blushes with my statement. Blushes. It throws me off so hard that I almost trip over my own damn feet.
Damn, she has a pretty face.
No, not pretty—stunning.
Full, cherry lips. Light cerulean eyes. Long lashes. A cute-as-hell button nose. Cheeks that practically beg to be bitten. And don’t even get me started on her body.
How the fuck did I never notice her before?
Fuck…maybe it’s a good thing I didn’t. Because that would’ve meant breaking my number one rule—never messing with girls who had a hard life straight out of the gate.
Though for Frankie …
I shake off the thought threatening to take root in my mind and grab my phone, shooting Enzo a quick text. He’s somewhere in the school stalking his recent victim, aka Father Torres, so I’m sure he won’t mind catching a ride with someone else so he can have a little more time to seduce the priest.
Me: Taking the car. Find your own ride home.
Enzo: Fine by me. Busy anyway.
Me: Busy trying to get into the priest’s pants?
Enzo: Wouldn’t you like to know.
Me: Careful. Don’t think his boss isn’t watching you.
Enzo:
Me: Aren’t we touchy?
Enzo:
Me:
Enzo: What about you and your nun? You tap that yet?
Me:
Enzo: Look who’s touchy now
“Everything okay?” Frankie asks after I’ve shoved my phone into my front pocket.
“Everything is fucking peachy,” I groan, rushing my steps to get out of this fucking school and put some much-needed distance between me and my infuriating twin.
I hate that he knows what I’m thinking before I even think it. It’s fucking inconvenient sometimes.
Thankfully, my sour mood is forgotten by the time we reach the parking lot. I swing open the car door for Frankie and usher her in.
“You pulled out my chair earlier. Now you’re opening the door for me?” She tilts her head to the side, studying me. “I never took you for the chivalrous type.”
“I’m not,” I lie. “I’m just in a hurry.”
Truth is, I didn’t even realize I was doing it.
Probably something I picked up from my dads. They do this kind of sappy shit for my mom all the time, and I guess it rubbed off on me.
Why I’m doing it for Frankie is beyond me.
“Get in, Frankie,” I sigh. “We’re losing precious daylight, and I still have shit to do.”
“Some new prank?”
“It’s brewing,” I smirk. “Just needs a few more weeks to perfect it.”
The next prank Enzo and I pull off has to be legendary—bold enough to be unforgettable but clean enough to leave no trace. The kind of stunt that has everyone talking, even if no one can prove it was us. But pulling off something that smooth takes time. And lately? Time’s been in short supply.
Enzo’s been obsessed with his priest.
And me? I’ve been too busy… tutoring.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Once she’s safely inside, I shut Frankie’s door and jog around to the driver’s seat. As soon as I shove the key into the ignition, I notice she’s still wrestling with her seatbelt. After a few seconds of fumbling, she lets out a frustrated sigh and shrugs at me.
“It’s fine. I’ll go without.”
“The fuck you are.” I arch a brow. “You do know that in most car accidents, it’s the passenger who takes the brunt of it, right? Safety first, O’Malley.”
Without thought, I lean over and grab the belt, but the second I do, her scent hits me all at once. Vanilla and cream, with just a hint of spiced cardamom. Unexpectedly piercing yet tender like a sharp tongue hiding a kind heart.
My fingers hesitate on the buckle as my throat tightens, my chest suddenly feeling too damn small to hold in all its parts. For a second, I forget what the hell I’m even doing and force myself to focus, clicking the belt into place and pulling back.
“There. See?” I fake a teasing grin. “Not so hard, was it?”
Frankie shakes her head, eyes locked straight ahead, her cheeks flushed pink.
Interesting.
A pissed-off Frankie is a menace to society.
But a flustered Frankie?
That’s a sight I wouldn’t mind seeing more often.
I file that little discovery away into my treasure chest and start the car, pulling out of the lot.
Before I can take her to our new tutoring spot, I have to make a quick stop at my grandfather’s gym. Normally, I drive like a bat out of hell, but today I force myself to stick to the speed limit—no point in scaring her off just yet. We pull up to Nano’s Gym a full twenty minutes later than I would’ve on my own. The second Frankie spots the sign out front, she scowls at me.
“A gym? Really? Is this some kind of joke?”
“Am I laughing?” I wink at her. “Just sit tight. I’ll be back in a jiff.”
I hop out before she can argue and head inside, already knowing exactly where to find Marcello.
Sure enough, my brother’s in the ring, pummeling some poor bastard’s face.
“Yo!” I call out, only for his trainer to immediately glare at me.
“Your brother’s busy.”
Marcello throws one last brutal punch, dropping his opponent flat on his back.
“Now I’m not,” he says, hopping out of the ring and strolling toward me. “What do you need?”
I wait for the trainer to check on the poor fucker inside the ring before flashing Marcello a grin so bright it could sell toothpaste.
“What makes you think I need something? Maybe I just wanted to see my big bro?” He cuts his eyes at me, and pins me with a look. “Fine. Do you still have Jude’s spare keys to his place?”
Marcello grabs a towel from the bench and wipes the sweat from his face. “Yeah. Why?”
“I need them.”
He studies me through narrowed lids, skeptical as hell. “For what?”
“I’m taking Frankie there. To tutor her.”
Marcello stares at me as if I’d just told him I’d joined The Boy Scouts or some shit.
“Tutor?” he repeats slowly.
“Yes, tutor.” I cross my arms. “What else do you think I’d want Jude’s apartment keys for?”
“Not tutoring.”
“Jesus, Marcello. It’s not like that.” I groan.
“It’s not, huh?” He folds his arms over his chest, amusement flickering in his eyes. “So you don’t need our brother’s penthouse just to make a move on your new little study buddy? Is that what you’re telling me?”
“I hadn’t even considered it.”
His stare sharpens as if trying to read me.
Here’s the problem—I hadn’t considered it until both Marcello and Enzo put the idea in my head.
But now? Now it’s all I can fucking think about.
Sure, Frankie and I are polar opposites. And yeah, she infuriates me like no one else.
But…
Would it be so crazy if I did try to put the moves on her?
I mean, if Enzo can pull a priest, I can pull a would-be nun… right?
Damn you, Marcello. Why the fuck did you have to say that shit for?
Still, I keep my face blank.
Marcello watches me for another beat before sighing. “Fine. I’ll give you the keys.” He moves further away from the ring, his opponent still out cold on the mat despite his trainer slapping his face countless times.
The girls watching from the weight racks practically swoon as he walks past, but as usual, Marcello ignores them.
Seriously.
Annamaria might want to be a nun, but it’s Marcello who’s taken a vow of celibacy.
Fucking waste.
He tosses me the keys from his jacket pocket that was hanging on the wall, and I catch them easily enough.
“I’ll be home for dinner tonight, so I want those back.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I flash him a cocky grin, already planning to make a copy for myself before I return them.
But before I can take a step, Marcello plants his hand on my shoulder to keep me in place.
“Do you trust this girl?”
“Trust the girl that a couple of weeks ago punched me in the face in front of everyone? Sure.” I laugh, only Marcello doesn’t find me funny. “I trust her enough,” I add more seriously.
“Fine. But at the first sign of a red flag, I want you to put an end to this tutoring. ” He emphasizes the word as if it means something else.
I don’t tell him that’s easier said than done, nor do I tell him that tutoring Frankie is the only way I’ll be able to graduate. I don’t tell him any of it, because it’s irrelevant for Marcello. If he wants a person gone, they’re gone.
Marcello has always been wary of strangers. Anyone new that steps into our family sphere raises his hackles. I saw the dirty looks he gave her last Sunday. He wasn’t pleased with her being there in the slightest.
But that’s Marcello’s baggage. Not mine.
However, I know my brother. If I don’t play by his rules, I’ll eventually suffer the repercussions of breaking them.
“First sign, she’s gone,” I lie with a straight face.
But when his tense shoulders don’t relax, I know he read the lie written all over me.
He then leans in and whispers in my ear, “At the first sign, she better be. Or I’ll make sure she is.”
Fuck.
Okay… I love my brother.
Fucking love the moody fucker.
But sometimes, I’m not entirely sure if it’s my brother I’m talking to or someone else.
Especially when he gets that damn manic look in his eyes.
“You got it. Can I go now?” I ask, not even trying to hide the fact that he’s pissing me off.
He gives me a nod and then walks away, not bothering to say anything else.
A cold shiver runs down my spine when I hear him call out, “Next.”
Yeah, I wouldn’t want to be the next guy to go into the ring with him.
Not when he looks like…
Fuck, I have no idea what he looks like.
He looks like a made man. Deal with it. That’s probably how you’ll look like, too, after a few years working for the syndicate, my conscience whispers in my ear.
Never.
I’ll never flip the switch to my humanity like Marcello has. Enzo and I are going to do things differently. We’re not going to lose ourselves for the famiglia.
Fuck that.
I hang back a few more minutes just to get my composure in check, so I don’t freak Frankie out. It’s bad enough that I’m freaked. By my own flesh and blood, no less.
When I finally return to the car, Frankie still has the seat belt on, looking frazzled.
“We should’ve stayed at Sacred Heart,” she mutters.
“And deal with all those pompous assholes?” I scoff. “Nah. The only asshole in your life I want you paying attention to is me.”
“Well, at least you own up that you’re an asshole.”
“Never said I wasn’t.” I chuckle, starting the car.
Doechii starts playing through the speakers as I pull onto the main road, weaving through the busy city streets of Chicago. Ten minutes later, I park in the underground garage of Jude’s penthouse and lead Frankie to the private elevator.
She’s gripping the straps of her backpack as if it were a lifeline, her fingers curled so tight her knuckles have gone white.
“You’re safe with me, Frankie,” I say as the elevator starts to climb. “I know I come on strong, but if you’re worried I’m going to hurt you or something—”
“I’m not,” she interrupts.
“Are you sure?” I tilt my head toward the way she keeps tapping her foot. “Because that suggests otherwise.”
She follows my gaze and sighs, realizing her foot is bouncing uncontrollably against the floor.
“Fine,” she grumbles. “You’re right. I’m jittery. But that’s because you and I don’t have the best track record. For all I know, you could be some serial killer luring me into a trap. If I see plastic on the floor, I’m out.”
I bark out a laugh. “Jesus, you’re dark. How the fuck are you gonna be a nun when your mind works like a made man’s?”
“A made what?”
Fuck. Now, I’ve said too much.
“Forget it.” I clear my throat. “Just trust me. There’s no plastic, and I’m not gonna whack you.” I flash a grin. “Just tutor you.”
Her stare tightens as if she’s mentally dissecting me. “That better be the case. Or you’ll see more than my fist.”
“Warning taken,” I grunt as the elevator dings.
The doors slide open, and I walk ahead to Jude’s penthouse, unlocking the door and making a big production of pushing it open.
“Ladies first.”
Frankie hesitates, scanning the space as if expecting to find a murder scene. After confirming the absence of plastic wrap, she takes a step inside.
Her gaze sweeps over the apartment, looking at the high ceilings, the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, and the sleek leather couches and Italian furniture.
“Wow. This is…impressive.” She lets out a breath. “How am I not surprised that your family has an apartment in the city, too?”
I smirk, shutting the door behind us.
“You really haven’t figured it out yet, have you?”
“Figured what out?” she asks suspiciously.
“That my family?” I lean into her ear, my voice dropping just slightly. “We own this city.”
“Funny.” She rolls her eyes at me, taking a step away, completely unaware of how true my remark really is. “Does this apartment belong to your uncle, too?”
“No. This is my brother’s place. Don’t worry. Jude won’t be home until Thanksgiving.”
Frankie lifts a brow. “Why would I be worried? We’re just here to study. Nothing more.”
She says it so definitively, so matter-of-fact, that it hits me like a damn Mack truck.
Not that I let it show.
My usual teasing smirk stays put as she gives the living room a once-over, then strides forward and shoves the coffee table—fancy chessboard and all—out of her way before dropping onto the plush white rug.
I watch as she unzips her bag and spreads her books in front of her.
“You do know there are chairs and tables, right?” I tease, shoving my hands into my pockets.
“I know,” she says, already flipping open her notebook. “I just prefer working on the floor.” Then she glances up at me, her blue eyes holding a challenge. “Care to join me?”
On the floor … on the couch … on the kitchen’s marble countertop.
Shit.
Where the hell did that thought come from?
I need to lock that shit down.
Without another word, I drop down beside her and grab her textbook, forcing myself to focus.
This is just another tutoring session. Not a hookup. So whatever ideas Marcello and Enzo planted in my head, yeah, they need to die—like right now.
Frankie has never given me a reason to believe she’s even remotely attracted to me. Not a single one. She doesn’t flirt or send out any of those subtle signals that girls usually throw my way when they’re interested. If anything, she barely tolerates me.
Yep. This is just another boring-as-hell calculus session. Nothing more. Nothing less.
I should probably focus on the numbers. Not on how good she smells. Not on how cute she looks when she chews on her pencil, deep in thought. Not on the way her skirt rides up just enough to tease the soft curve of her thighs. Thick thighs that summon up images that I shouldn’t be imagining right now. Like how soft they would feel spread apart just enough to hug my cheeks.
Fuck.
I scrub a hand over my face, snapping my attention back to the textbook.
Just a tutoring session. That’s all this is.
So get your ass in gear, Romano, and take your mind out of the gutter. For both our sakes.