4
LUCA
A single hand walks up my arm, delicate yet sharp fingers poking at my skin. “Fontana, come on. I can make you feel good.”
I throw back the remnants of my whiskey before I slide my gaze to the blonde currently trying to seduce me. “Somehow, I don’t think you can give me what I really want.”
Her brows furrow. “Try me.”
I admire the challenge she puts forth, but I’m really not in the mood—and that’s saying something. Since coming face to face with Serafina for the first time in a couple of months, I’m suddenly feeling a whirlwind of emotions. Emotions I don’t want to address, but they’re there nonetheless.
Today has forced me to face it all. I want to hate Serafina for what happened to my father. For the past three weeks, I have done just that. It’s easier to hate her, because it pushes aside the other feelings; the betraying, contradictory emotions.
I’ll never forget the first time my eyes landed on her at one of the family gatherings. She was wearing a gold dress that sparkled every time the light caught it. Her brown hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall, but all I really remember was her eyes, those big brown eyes twinkling back at me as our fathers introduced us. She was as stunning as she was oblivious to it. She was sweet, friendly, and innocently charming. She was attentive, listening to every single word I said and not just in the polite sense.
She was charismatic.
She was perfect.
But then she let my father die. She allowed him to fall, and now I’m the only living person to carry on my family name. The last Fontana.
“Come on, Luca. We had a good time last time, didn’t we?” Sonya is desperate, clinging onto the hope that I might feed her ego and she might be able to heal me.
“I’m not interested,” I snap. My mood is already sour from the earlier meeting, and as much as a good release would be beneficial, the blonde isn’t what I want right now.
Running my hands through my hair, I sigh and slide my empty glass along the bar top.
The bartender catches it, gives me a swift nod, then gets to work pouring me another.
“Fontana!”
I turn at the sound of my name, my eyes honing in on Marco and his twin brother Matteo making their way down the steps into the main lounge area of my club. I thought I could hide out here, in my own space. Clearly, I’m that predictable.
“You’ve not been answering your phone!” Marco claps me on the back while Matteo gestures to the bartender.
“I’ve been busy,” I mutter. I don’t mind the guys, we’ve known each other long enough that we can skip pleasantries.
Matteo turns around to rest his elbows on the bar top, his eyes prowling the few staff I have working this afternoon. It’s never busy during the day, which is how I like it. My club keeps the revenue coming in and it’s the only legal thing to my name.
“There’s a lot to keep you busy here,” Matteo comments sarcastically with a smirk. He licks his lips as Sonya walks past. “Hey babe!”
Sonya rolls her eyes before disappearing out the back. I should feel bad that I’ve put her in a shit mood, but she should know better. I’m not after anything, and if I want a fuck, I’ll go find it myself. But weirdly enough, it’s the last thing I want right now.
“What’s up her ass?” Matteo mumbles, grabbing his drink from the side.
I pick up mine that the bartender has just set down, swallowing the liquid in two gulps. “She doesn’t get rejected often. What do you both want?”
“Can’t we come and see a friend?” Marco smiles, but it’s filled with suspicious intent.
I have no reason not to trust the twins. They’ve made it clear where they stand when it comes to the Verdis and Bianchis. “You can,” I mutter. “But there’s always a reason you two show up unannounced.”
By the way Marco’s smirk flickers, I’d say I was right. With a huff, he takes the stool to my left, while Matteo takes the one on my right. “We thought you might need some company.”
“Trust me, that’s the total opposite of what I want.” I roll the glass between my fingers, watching the crystal sparkle beneath the overhead lights.
“Okay,” Matteo slaps his palms against the barter. “Let’s get some shots in!”
I go to protest, but he’s already reaching over the bar and grabbing three shot glasses, along with a familiar looking bottle of liquor. He squints his eyes, attempting to read the Spanish on it, and I laugh.
“It’s Tequila,” I say, snatching the bottle from him.
While Matteo lines up the glasses, I start pouring. I have no doubt this night is going to end like so many others have over the last few weeks. It has become routine for me, something I know I should stop, but it’s the only thing that numbs the memories of what I lost. Today was another reminder of that.
Looking at Serafina from across the table, in all her confident glory and beautiful power, I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t stop the distaste blending with the returning lust. Between the anger and twisted resentment I feel towards Donna Bianchi, there’s another emotion settling underneath my skin. For the first time ever, I saw the vulnerability and desperation in Serafina’s eyes. She’s wracked with guilt, and not just the kind of guilt you get from surviving something horrific. No, Serafina is punishing herself for what happened that day. It might not be with tits and tequila like me, but she’s torturing herself in other ways. I’m sure of it. She might not have directly had a part to play in pulling the trigger. But the bullet my father took was to protect her. And that’s the reminder I have to live with.
At least avenging my father’s death will bring me some satisfaction, maybe even some solace. If it doesn’t, I know who I’m going after next and Omertà or not, blood will be spilled.
I sling back the first shot with ease. The twins throw their own back before slamming their glasses onto the side and coughing.
“Again!” Matteo cheers, snatching the tequila from my grasp.
“What exactly is your plan here?”
Matteo pours out the liquid but doesn’t say a word. It’s Marco that douses the silence with his words, and they hold a whole other meaning. “We’re going to get you drunk until you talk.”
He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like I’m about to spill every single inch of my guts to these brothers while bonding over alcohol. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Ahhh…” Matteo laughs, raising his glass in the air. “But there is.”
“Luca, your father died.”
“Thanks for the reminder,” I grit out, grabbing the bottle back. I take a pull straight from it before either of the guys can protest.
“What we mean is,” Matteo pauses, looking past me to his brother. “Just because we aren’t blood related, doesn’t mean we don’t have your back.”
I already knew this. The Bianchi treaty ensured that no family could go against the other. Of course, that didn’t stop the Verdis, but unlike them, there’s still families following that agreement.
“What Matty is saying is, we don’t know what you’re going through. But we are here, you know?”
I glance between the brothers, a sense of something akin to friendship flowing between us. While I appreciate the gesture, I’m just not ready to talk. I don’t even know what I would say .
The brothers seem to appreciate that, though, which is why we spend the rest of the night throwing back shots and watching the scantily clad women dance before us. It’s the distraction I need, the numbness I seek. Because it’s not just my father’s death I’m trying to escape from, it’s Donna Bianchi.
“That isn’t going to work,” I say, shaking my head.
Serafina looks up at me, her brow creasing. “What do you mean it won’t work? It’ll draw them out right? Pull them into a vulnerable spot.”
“Sera, he’s right,” Levi says softly. “They’re not stupid. They won’t fall for it.”
My eyes drift to where she’s standing, bent over the map in the middle of the table. Her long brown hair is pinned back, but the random strands that float back and forth as she blows them out of the way captivate me. She’s frustrated. It’s clear to see she’s battling with her patience.
It has only been three days since we agreed on this alliance, and she’s already chomping at the bit to get out there. I’m already imagining her storming the Verdi home, strapped with a bazooka and a dozen grenades. The woman has fight in her, a lot of it, too, but she’s lacking in experience.
“Plus,” I say standing up to join them. “We don’t have enough manpower.” I stand beside Levi, who has placed a chess piece on the mark of where the Verdi’s warehouses are situated, up in the hills, far from the bay. “It’ll be heavily guarded, and we don’t know who is there. We can’t just take out their shit without gaining intel.”
“ Cazzo !” Serafina cards her fingers through the ruffled strands of hair. “So, how do you propose we do this? I’m out of ideas.”
With the two ideas she had about blowing up the Verdi’s supply, or just sneaking into their heavily guarded mansion to assassinate them, I’d say she’s never planned anything like this before. As fun as those ideas would be, it wouldn’t give us the revenge we deserve. It won’t hit the family hard enough.
“We need to hit them where it hurts.”
Levi frowns at me, but I think he knows where I’m going with this.
“The Greco family,” I say.
“Greco? Do you think they’ll help us?” she asks.
“I think they’ll be more inclined to help us than the Verdis.”
Serafina glances at Levi, her reservations are clear on this one. It’s the one thing she isn’t sure about. Apart from her father, nobody else has had much to do with the second largest family in La Cosa Nostra. It’s both daunting and exciting, because if we get the Greco family on our side, Don Verdi and his little dominion will be outnumbered.
“It’s worth a shot,” Levi shrugs.
“And if they don’t, you can just order it, right?”
Serafina scowls at me, her anger evident in the way her plump lips thin. “I won’t be doing anything like that. It is us in this vendetta. Whether families want to join us or not is up to them.”
“Then I guess you’ll have to do it the old fashioned way,” I shrug nonchalantly.
“The old fashioned way?” she asks warily. “If you think that I’m?—”
“It’s his son’s wedding in two weeks. You all got the invite, right?”
Serafina and Levi both nod, though Sera is more wide-eyed and unsure of what I’m implying. It’s tradition more than anything for other families to attend, one which I’m still surprised exists after what went down a few weeks ago. As leader of La Cosa Nostra, Serafina will be expected to show her face. And since the Grecos haven’t called off the wedding, nor stated which families are no longer invited, it’s pretty much a free for all. Only there’s one huge negative.
With the way Serafina chews her lip, I’d say she’s just come across that thought herself. “We’ll all be there,” I find myself saying.
“We won’t let anything happen,” Levi reassures her, stroking a hand down her back.
Her head lowers as she rests her palms on the table. I can’t see past the hair covering her face, but with the way her chest heaves, I’m certain she’s having second thoughts .
“It’s not me I’m worried about,” she mutters. Her words are soft and filled with angst. They rub at the wound not yet healed over in my chest, like the guilt is eating away at it. There’s a part of me that wants to reassure her, the good part of me that still exists despite what happened.
But the darker, more bitter part of my existence won’t allow me to. Until I see the coldness of Don Verdi’s eyes, and the rest of his vile family, I won’t be reassuring anyone of their safety.
“So, we agree on this? We need to get the Greco family on our side for this to work.” I raise a brow, glancing between the pair.
“If we get them on our side. They’ll be able to get us more intel, for sure.” Levi nods in agreement.
“And how do we do that?” Serafina asks.
“I have something on them,” I say. I’m not proud of what I know, or how I got that intel. But it’s dangerous territory to use it against the family.
Serafina shakes her head, “I don’t like this.”
“Sera, if we can get them on our side?—”
“And what if we can’t?” she snaps. “What if they go against us, too? Blackmailing a family is just as bad as forcing them into this war!”
“Sera, you do know who you are, right?” It’s not even a question. It comes out more of an insult but it has the exact effect I want it to.
She rolls her shoulders back, and puffs out her delicious chest that I find myself staring at far longer than I should. “I know exactly who the fuck I am, Fontana.”
I bite back a smirk, nodding at her instead. “Good. Then fucking remember it when you walk into that ceremony because wedding or not, all eyes will be on you.”
Her jaw ticks over with irritation that I’m calling her out. Normally, I wouldn’t, but Bianchi is still new to this role and some structured guidance might help her.
“And if you can’t remember, then focus on who you’re doing this for.”
“I don’t need a damn reminder!”
“Clearly you do! ”
“Alright, guys!” Levi steps in, hands motioning for us to step back.
In our heated argument, I hadn’t realized how close we had gotten. Sera is practically heaving with anger, her nostrils flaring. Maybe it was a good thing Levi stepped in because I’m almost certain any longer and we would have drawn out our guns.
I don’t say another word after that. The tension in the room is far too volatile to talk my way out of. So I do the next best thing.
I grab my jacket from the chair, give Sera one last look of warning, then leave.