Mafia Prince’s Christmas Triplets (The Naughty List: Mafia Edition #3)

Prologue

LUCA: CHRISTMAS DAY

I hate Christmas.

No, that’s not right. I don’t mind the gifts.

What I hate is coming home for Christmas.

More specifically, I hate having to endure Elena Vitale’s disdain for me.

Fucking hell, I loved her.

I was ready to give her everything.

But it turned out that she didn’t love me.

Not really.

Not if she could believe that I’d betray her by putting her father in prison.

That I had anything to do with his being killed not long after he was incarcerated.

Her lack of love for me was further proven when just weeks after I left the United States and moved to Italy to run the family business there, she got pregnant.

Apparently, by some asshole who didn’t care enough to do the right thing by her as she’s a single mom of triplets.

I’d have given her the world, and she chose some dumbass who left her with three kids.

Her accusations should have killed my feelings for her. Moving to Italy should have healed my heart.

The number of women I’ve fucked since then should have gotten her out of my system.

But whenever I return home for the annual La Corona Christmas party, there she is looking at me like I’m a piece of shit, and somehow, my heart breaks all over again.

I remind myself that I’m a badass Mafia prince. I don’t need love. I don’t need Elena.

I push thoughts of her out of my head as I make my way up the steps of my father’s home.

Over the last year, I’ve been getting calls from my sister, Gabriella, that my father’s mind is going.

I think she’s overreacting.

He’s fine whenever I talk to him on the phone. Sure, he’s on occasion called me Marco, Dom Calabresi’s name, but I figure that’s like any parent who mixes their kids up.

Marco isn’t my father’s son, but my father treats him like a son.

I walk into the house I grew up in, and immediately, I’m greeted by welcoming staff and friends.

"Luca!" Gabriella calls out when she sees me.

“Sorella mia,” I say, equally as happy to see her. We’re close, and although I’m older, if she were a boy, my father might make her the next Don because she’s a shrewd woman.

She rushes to me, throwing her arms around me. "You’re here!"

"Of course." I laugh, hugging her back. "It's Christmas."

She’s exuding joy I’ve never seen in her before.

"You look different," I say, holding her at arm's length so I can study her. I glance down and see a sparkly diamond on her left hand. My eyebrows shoot up. "Very different."

She laughs and pulls me toward Don Calabresi. "We have so much to tell you."

"So," I say, accepting a glass of champagne from a passing server and looking around at our gathered family, "what have I missed around here since last Christmas?"

The question triggers a collective groan followed by bursts of laughter from the guests.

It’s like they have an inside joke I’m not privy to.

"Where do we even start?" Roman, Don Calabresi’s right-hand man and enforcer, says.

"FBI meetings," Gabriella says with a roll of her eyes.

"Ambushes," Don Calabresi adds.

"Traitors in our midst," my father contributes.

My brow furrows at that. A traitor?

"Shotgun weddings," Don Calabresi says with a smirk, sliding his arm around my sister’s waist. I raise an eyebrow at that.

"And babies," Gabriella finishes, pressing her hand over her stomach.

My eyes widen and I’m sure I look like I’ve been bowled over. "All since last Christmas? I leave for one year and the entire world turns upside down?"

"Welcome home, Brother. You've got a lot of catching up to do,” Gabriella says.

“I guess I do.” I shift my gaze to Elena, who turns away. And so it begins.

“Wait?” Don Vitale’s voice cuts through the crowd. “Did Marco say shotgun wedding?”

I whip my head back to my sister.

My father holds up his champagne class. “I’m happy to announce the engagement of my daughter, Gabriella, to Don Marco Calabresi, and the impending birth of their first child.”

Holy shit. Of all the things I’ve missed, my sister and Marco Calabresi getting married is the one I’d have never guessed.

“First? How many will they have?” I ask with a wink to Gabriella.

“Four. Maybe five,” she says. Marco looks a little pale at that but smiles.

Congratulations fill the air, and I’m happy for my sister, even as I glance again at Elena and acutely feel the loss of what we could have had.

I push the pain and anger away and mingle with the guests.

I see my father out in the foyer looking a little lost, so I go to check on him. He’s staring at the front door like he’s expecting someone.

“Hey, Pops, everything okay?” I ask.

He startles and then turns to me. “Oh, Luca, yes, yes, just wondering when your mother will get here. She always loves the Christmas party.”

For a moment, I’m confused. My mom is dead. She has been for some time. “You mean, Gabriella? She’s in the—”

“Maybe she went up to rest.” My father’s gaze turns to the stairs.

I study him, and then I see what Gabriella has been trying to tell me.

He’s here, but not completely present.

He’s in the past.

I glance around looking for Gabriella since I’m not sure how to respond.

Do I tell him Mom is dead?

Do I play along?

I catch her eye. She smiles but then it falters. She excuses herself and comes to join me and Dad.

“Everything okay?” she asks.

“He’s waiting for Mom.”

The sadness in her face tells me this isn’t a new thing. “Dad, why don’t you go check on Leo? He’s been asking about that fancy Grappa you have from Italy,” she says of the expensive Italian brandy I brought back last year for Dad.

“Oh? Yes. That would be nice. Maybe I’ll ask Marco and Dominic to join me.”

“That’s a great idea,” she says, rubbing his shoulder.

He leaves to find Leo Ferraza, the fourth Don of La Corona.

“How often is he like that?” I can’t explain why it scares me so much to see him like that. Perhaps because my father has always been strong and wise.

“Nearly a year. Sometimes he’s just a little addled, but other times… it’s like he’s in the past.” She pulls her gaze from our retreating father to look at me. “We need to talk about it, Luca. He really needs you here. Even the other Dons think it’s time for you to come home.”

I like Italy. I’m now fluent in the language. I’m respected. And the business is booming.

But it’s not New York. It’s not home.

The only thing that has kept me from returning is Elena.

I can’t hide any longer from the anger and hurt she causes me. I was raised to one day run the family business. To take a seat at La Carona’s table as a Don.

I nod. “I’ll need to return for a short time to make arrangements in Italy, but I’ve got good men there. Then I’ll move home.”

The relief on Gabriella’s face tells me just how worried she’s been. I feel bad I made her carry so much of the burden.

“I’m so glad. We need you here.”

She’s called over to talk with Isabella Ferraza… or no, she’s married to Roman Ginetti now.

I find one of the servers and ask for a double scotch. I stand in the corner, watching my father head out of the room with Leo, hopefully to go have some Grappa.

Commotion pulls my attention to three kids chasing Roman’s daughter around the Christmas tree.

I smile remembering when Gabriella and I used to play like that, often with Elena when we were that small.

I glance over at Elena and my heart does that stutter thing. She’s so fucking beautiful.

Most women of Italian heritage have dark hair and eyes, but Elena’s hair is more a light brown, like it’s streaked with sunshine, and her eyes are green.

Against her bronze skin, it’s stunning.

I watch as Isabella joins Elena. "They're getting so big," she says, holding a baby in her arms.

"Seems like yesterday they were just learning to walk. Now they’re in kindergarten.”

Kindergarten. Good God, time has flown by.

“Roman says the same about Angelica. Just yesterday he cradled her in his arms, and now she’s ten,” Isabella responds.

“Life charges on,” Elena says, looking around the room. My sense is she’s trying to figure out where I am so she can avoid me.

I turn away so she doesn’t know I’m watching her.

Isabella’s baby starts to cry. “I should feed him.” She heads off somewhere, presumably to feed the little guy.

"Mama! Look what Angelica showed us!" Elena’s daughter, Adalina, I think, calls, holding up a glass ornament that catches the light.

Elena rushes over to the girl in a panic. “Be careful with that, sweetheart. It's delicate."

I don’t know why, but I can’t not talk to her. It’s a fool’s errand. She’s just going to dismiss me.

But as she kneels by her daughter, I step up behind her. “The kids are bigger each year,” I say.

“Yes, well it’s been a year,” she says in the snarky tone I expected. "If you'll excuse me, I need to check on something…" She rushes off like she can’t get away fast enough.

I should let her go, but either I’m a glutton for punishment or I need to give her a piece of my mind. I follow her into the family room.

“Are you stalking me?” she demands.

“Why do you treat me like I have cooties every fucking year?” As kids, we used to play a tag game where the person who was “it” was said to have cooties. I figure I’ll try to remind her that we were once friends. For a short time, we were more.

She meets my gaze. "I don’t.”

"Bullshit." I step closer, unable to hide the frustration and pain in my voice.

"What do you want me to say, Luca?"

I give a small laugh. “Maybe tell me why you act like I’m the one who fucked things up, when it was you.”

Her eyes fill with anger. “Gee, was it that you put my father in prison… where he died?”

“I did not.” What the fuck? Not even her cousin Dom thinks I was behind her father’s conviction.

“Or maybe how you went to Italy and didn’t look back. Take your pick.”

My jaw tightens. If she thinks I put her father in jail, why would she care if I looked back or not, which I did?

Nearly every damn day until I learned she fucked someone else and was having his babies.

"I went to Italy for family business. You knew I was coming back."

“No, I didn’t.”

I shrug knowing that I won’t change her mind. “Why do you care? It’s not like you didn’t move on. Your kids are proof of that.”

For a moment, I think I see hatred, but she doesn’t say anything.

“What? You have no answer?” I shake my head. “Don’t act like I’m the bad guy when you’re the one who moved on within weeks of my leaving.”

“You put my father in prison—”

“No. I didn’t. In fact, I tried to… You know what? Never mind. You only believe what you want.” What point is there in telling her I tried to help him, but Dominic’s father, who was Don at the time, said not to bother?

Even he seemed to think Elena’s father deserved to be put away.

"It doesn't matter now," she says. "We've all moved on."

She brushes past me toward the door, and while I know I should let her go, my hand catches her wrist, gentle but firm.

"Have you?”

She pulls away from my grip. "Yes.”

"I planned to come back for you.” Fuck. I can’t believe I just admitted that. But since I have, I might as well reveal it all. "I had everything arranged. But then I heard you were expecting. Never heard about the wedding or lucky guy, but… well, why come back to that?”

She blinks as if she doesn’t understand. "What?"

I lean into her, which is a mistake because she still smells like an exotic flower.

The scent sends a wave of memories and emotions through me. "I’m not to blame, so stop acting like I am, unless it’s your guilt that has you treating me like shit every Christmas.”

She shakes her head. "It doesn't change anything. I need to check on my kids.”

"Elena." I reach for her again, but she steps back.

"Our time together is in the past, Luca. It should stay there. We're different people now."

I hate that she can so easily dismiss what we had. I planned to offer her my heart, my soul, and I was nothing to her.

"What matters is that we've both moved on,” she finishes. “You’ll be back in Italy, and I’ll be here, and we’ll keep on with our lives.”

“Actually, I'm not just back for Christmas. I'm back for good.”

She pales at that. "What?"

"My father needs me here now. His condition…" I shake my head. "It's time I stepped up."

"I see.”

I think a doctor could tell her she had a terminal disease and she’d still be more upset by the news that I’m staying in New York.

It feels like a stab to my heart.

"This changes things.” It’s probably wishful thinking, but if I stay and can prove to her I’m not the asshole she thinks I am, maybe we could rebuild what we lost.

"It changes nothing.”

A part of me wonders why bother? Why would I still want this woman? Yet, looking into those green eyes that once stared up at me like the sun rose and set by me, I want what I lost.

"I guess I'll see you around," I finally say, then I leave the room.

My first instinct is to return to Italy. My sister is capable of helping my father.

Marco will help him too.

But after six years, I know there’s nowhere in the world I can go where I won’t be haunted by her.

My only choice is to stay and prove my innocence.

Will she want me then? Who knows?

Probably not.

But I’m fucking sick and tired of being blamed for something I didn’t do.

It’s time to stop running from her and my past.

It’s time to start acting like a Don.