Chapter 1 #2
I watched her as I worked the espresso machine.
I admired the slight furrow between her brows as she concentrated.
When she’d shown up at my door nights ago, I felt like I'd hit the jackpot. It was my lucky day that turned into a lucky week. Everything about it was wrong. Family loyalty demanded I turn her away. Instead, I’d stepped aside and let her in.
Sure, Lord was my cousin, but I didn’t grow up with him. I couldn’t call him a friend.
“I wish I could be there for you today,” she said suddenly, looking up from her work. “But it’s too soon for me to be seen with you.”
I placed a small cup of espresso in front of her. The rich aroma filled the space between us. “I understand. It wouldn’t do either of us any good to cause trouble with the family.”
“I still feel bad. You shouldn’t have to face this alone.”
I leaned against the counter, cradling my own cup. “I’ve faced worse alone.”
She knew some of my history, more than any other woman who had been in my life. I’d told her about growing up with Gianni, about my mother’s suicide, about the years afterward when I’d felt completely untethered. Something about Labria made me want to reveal parts of myself I usually kept hidden.
“Lord would see it as betrayal, any man would.” I said, giving voice to what we both were thinking. “And Nicco...” I trailed off, not needing to finish the thought. My cousin wasn’t known for his forgiving nature, especially when it came to family matters.
Labria set down her cup with deliberate care. “It’s only been a week since I left him. Things will blow over eventually.”
“I know.” I said, but I really didn’t know what would happen when the black cat was let out of the bag.
I’d been counting the days, questioning my own judgment, wondering if this thing between us was worth the risk.
“It’s not just the timing. You’re his ex, that he invited into the family.
I’m his cousin. In the Bregoli family, those lines aren’t meant to be crossed without permission. ”
“Do you regret it? This?” She gestured between us.
I considered the question seriously. Did I regret opening my door to her that night? Did I regret offering comfort that had evolved into something neither of us had expected?
“No,” I said finally. “I don’t regret it. You know I wanted you. I offered you friendship because I believed that was all you were willing to give me.”
Relief flashed across her face before she changed her features back to neutrality. She was always the lawyer, careful not to reveal too much.
“Zio, we still need to be discreet. For now.”
“For now,” I agreed, though we both understood “now” might be a very long time. The Bregoli family had long memories and little tolerance for perceived disloyalty. “How long will you be at the office today?”
“Probably late. I have client meetings until four, then I need to review contracts for a property closing next week.” She gathered her documents into a leather portfolio. “What time is the funeral?”
“Eleven. Then there’s a reception hosted by Valentina at Carlito’s afterward.” I grimaced at the thought. Valentina would be watching everyone carefully, measuring their grief against her standards of family loyalty. “It should be over by three, if I can escape that quickly.”
“I wonder if everyone will be there?” She asked.
I knew who she meant by “everyone.” Lord. “Yes. Even those who hated him will show up to pay their respects. It’s expected.”
She nodded, understanding the unwritten rules that governed family obligations. She’d been with Lord long enough to learn how things worked, even if she’d never been fully accepted into the inner circle.
“Be careful what you say to them,” she warned.
“I always am.” I moved around the island to stand beside her, close enough to feel her warmth but not touching. “And you? Will you be careful today?”
“Of course.” She smiled faintly. “Attorney-client privilege applies to my personal life too.”
I reached out then, unable to help myself, tucking that stubborn strand of hair behind her ear. “This is complicated.”
“That’s one way to put it.” She leaned slightly into my touch. “I left because I couldn’t handle the lies anymore, and the person he was becoming. And now here I am, with you.”
“With me,” I finished when she hesitated. “Someone just as connected to that world.”
“But different,” she insisted. “You’re different with me. You’re honest about who you are, what you do. You have never lied to me.”
When I thought about it. She was right. I’d been more forthcoming with her than with anyone else; that was true. There were still things I hadn’t shared, shadows in my past she might not be able to accept. The line between honesty and self-preservation was thin in my world.
She checked her watch and sighed. “Oh shit, I need to get going.”
I nodded, stepping back to give her space. “See you after work?”
Was this temporary shelter I was offering? Was it a hiding place, or something more? Were we building something real, or just finding comfort in two different storms?
“Yes,” she said finally. “I’ll bring dinner.”
“Thanks, I’ll be too drained to cook. All the condolences will be too much.”
“It’s just a few hours. You got this.” She cheered.
Labria finished her espresso and stood, smoothing her suit jacket with practiced hands. “Call me if you need anything. Even if it’s just to talk.”
“I will.” Though we both knew I probably wouldn’t. There would be too many people around me.
She gathered her briefcase and portfolio. I watched her transform from the vulnerable, sexy woman who’d shared my bed to the composed attorney who navigated shark-infested waters daily. It was impressive, that ability to compartmentalize.
I wondered if she saw the same in me, the shift between the man who held her at night and the Bregoli soldier who would bury his father today with dry eyes and performative words.
“Be safe,” I said quietly as she headed for the hallway. It wasn’t just a casual goodbye. In our world, safety was never guaranteed.
She paused, looking back at me with eyes that saw too much. “You too.”
Labria paused at the hallway mirror, checking her appearance one final time.
I watched her adjust her collar, smooth a hand over her hair.
The ritual fascinated me. This transformation from the woman who’d slept in my arms to the polished attorney.
She caught me watching in the mirror and raised an eyebrow.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing. Just admiring the view.
She smiled, but I could see the tension in her shoulders. We were both feeling it, the pressure of the secret we were keeping.
“Remember, I’m bringing dinner to you. I’m thinking that Italian place on Charleston you like?”
“Perfect.” I reached for her briefcase, carrying it the rest of the way to the door. Such a small gesture, but it felt important somehow. These little moments of normalcy in our complicated situation warmed me.
She glanced at her watch. “I should go. Court starts at nine, and I want to review my notes once more before I meet with the client.”
I nodded, setting her briefcase down by the door. “What’s the case?”
“Commercial lease dispute. Nothing exciting, but the client’s connected.
” She didn’t need to elaborate on “connected.” Most of Stern, Foster, and Pellegrino’s clients had some tie to the Bregoli family or their associates.
It was how she’d gotten the job in the first place.
Nicco’s influence expedited her Nevada law license after she relocated from Chicago with Lordes.
I touched her arm, feeling the tension in her muscles.
She studied my face, searching for something.
Whatever she saw seemed to satisfy her because she leaned in and kissed me.
It wasn’t a casual goodbye. It was intense, almost desperate, her fingers gripping my suit jacket as if she might never see me again.
I kissed her back with equal fervor, one hand cradling her face, the other at the small of her back.
When we finally broke apart, her breathing was uneven, and I knew mine was too.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” she whispered. “Now I’ve messed up your tie again.”
“Worth it,” I said, making a quick adjustment to straighten it.
She smiled a real smile that reached her eyes this time. “I’ll see you tonight.”
“Tonight,” I confirmed, reaching for the door handle.
With one final glance outside, I opened the door, and Labria stepped through it.
She walked down the path to her gray Mercedes C 43 parked in the driveway.
I remained in the doorway, watching as she got in, started the engine, and backed onto the street.
Only when her car disappeared around the corner did I close the door and lock it, leaning back against the solid wood for a moment.
The house felt immediately emptier without her presence.
It was ridiculous how quickly I’d grown accustomed to having her here, how natural it felt to share my space with her.