Lorenzo Beretta Read online

  “How did it go?”

  “Good.” My nostrils flared, knowing that when we were home, he’d want to know every single word said in the meeting I’d attended that afternoon—the same meeting I’d been in charge of for two years, and a deal that had only taken place because of me. Yet, my father liked to believe it was because of him that we were currently the only people dealing on this side of the state. But whatever. I wasn’t one who wanted praise. I did my job, and I did it well, no questions asked. I didn’t need praise from my father in the same way my brother, Dante, did.

  “As always,” I tacked on to the end.

  His brow rose at my comment, but I ignored it, just like I did with most things he did lately.

  “Luca,” Ma whispered. “Dance with me.” Dad didn’t look away from me for several seconds, not until he thought whatever he was trying to silently say sunk in, but it didn’t make an inch of difference. He may have been the boss as well as my father, but that didn’t mean I had to be treated like a child. I hadn’t been a child since the first time I’d gotten another person’s blood on my hands.

  “Luca,” Ma repeated, only this time she placed her hand over his.

  Dad turned to face her, his gaze skimming two of his bodyguards. They weren’t the only two in the room, but they were the only two visible. When you were the Mafia boss, you had enemies in places you didn’t even realize, and Dad had been targeted too many times to count by both the bad guys and the good guys. “Of course, Rosa.” Dad’s lips quirked at the corner, giving Ma the smile that he only ever graced her with.

  I looked away and searched the room for something to take my mind off the meeting this afternoon. My contact had tried to skim product off the top of our usual order, and it meant I’d had to take it into my own hands. I sent him and everyone else in his organization a message by cutting off his hand. Criminals in the underground would know who had done it because it was my trademark. Dad had always taught me to create my own path. I smirked as I remembered the screams of pain echoing throughout the warehouse where we’d met. They ricocheted off the walls as I’d sliced at the bone with the knife I always carried. I never knew when I would have to assert my authority, and this afternoon was just another example of that.

  “Luca!” Ma screamed, and I jumped out of my seat. “Luca!” she shouted again, and my heart jumped into my throat.

  “Ma!” I lunged around the table and to the dance floor where a crowd was gathering, blocking my view. “Move,” I ground out, pushing the members of high society out of the way. They stumbled to the left, making a space for me to slip through.

  “Someone help him!” Mom screeched in a tone I’d never heard from her before, and as soon as I looked down at the floor, I understood why. “Call nine one one!”

  “Dad.” I fell to my knees, my hands hovering over his body and his pale, sweaty face. He clutched at his chest, his mouth open, but he couldn’t form any words, couldn’t say a single thing. His hand reached for me, his body slow and languid. “Dad.” I tried to keep my emotions at bay, but I had no idea what to do, what to say, or what was happening.

  “I’m a doctor,” a voice shouted through the crowd of people. “Let me through.”

  “Son,” Dad finally managed to whisper. I leaned closer to his face, trying to make out what he was saying. “Yours,” he stuttered. He groaned in pain as someone slid down next to him, feeling his chest and taking hold of his arm. “It’s all yours now.”

  “He’s having a heart attack,” the man who told us he was a doctor said. “Sir, look at me.”

  Dad’s gaze attached to mine, refusing to let go. “Rosa,” he whispered, so low only I could hear him.

  “Ma,” I called out. “Ma, come here.”

  Her sobs mixed in with the words the doctor was saying, but I couldn’t concentrate on any of them because I knew deep down this was it. This was the moment everything would change. This was the moment my life would take a turn I wasn’t sure I was ready for.

  This was the moment that would define the rest of my life.

  AIDA

  I bounced my foot up and down on the floor as I stared at the clock on the wall, wishing the seconds would tick by faster. Friday was always my busiest day of the week because I had three classes and a six-hour shift at the family store. The problem was I had exactly four minutes to make it from my last lecture of the day to the bus stop. The days I didn’t get there in time meant I had to run home to make it to my shift. Those were the days I hated.

  “Assignments are due in two weeks. All reference material needs to be inputted correctly and cited on the final page.”

  My gaze flicked down to the lecturer for my psych lesson—my least favorite class. There was only one thing I wanted to study at college—music—but apparently, you couldn’t get a degree based on electives, which was why I’d left this class until my second year here.

  I sighed and let my head drop back. I wished I’d taken it as a freshman. At least then it would have been out of the way, and I could concentrate on what I loved most. But I’d been too eager my first year of college, too excited that I was even here on a part-scholarship, along with some help from my parents. The workload hadn’t bothered me then, but the longer I attended, the more I felt like it was piling on top of me.

  “You may all go,” Mrs. Potts said, waving her hand in the air, then pushing her papers into her quilted tote bag. “Email me if you need any help,” she finished off, and I knew I’d be doing just that. I didn’t want to half-ass anything, which meant I had to fully understand the subject I was doing. Too bad I didn’t understand even a tiny bit of all the theory Mrs. Potts spoke about every week.

  Some students rushed out of their seats, ready to get their Friday night started, and others took their time because they had nowhere they needed to be. But I did. I had to make it all the way across town and to the store I’d been working in since before I could remember. A store my ma and dad owned.

  When they’d first opened it, it was full of items imported from Italy; things you couldn’t get anywhere else. And although more stores had opened over the years and tried to emulate Ma and Pa, none succeeded in the way they did.

  “Excuse me,” I huffed at a group of students gathered in front of the lecture hall door. No one moved, and my nostrils flared. I was on a time crunch. Ma had gone to the wholesalers, and Dad was out on his usual deliveries taking food to the people who couldn’t get out of their homes. And, of course, the few people who could get to the store but didn’t want to be seen on our side of town—the poor side.

  “You coming to the party tonight?” a deep voice from behind me asked someone.

  “Hello?” I waved my arm in the air and in front of one of the students' faces. “Can I get by, please?” I was acting nice, but inside I wanted to yell at them to move the hell out of the way. I tried to tamp down the frustration building, knowing it wouldn’t make an inch of difference to the mellow students in front of me, but I couldn’t help muttering, “Maybe I should talk to the wall? Then I might be able to get a goddamn answer.”

  Someone chuckled, and several of the students blocking my way snapped their heads around. Their wide eyes settled on something behind me, and I took their lull in conversation to push through the middle of them. Every damn week they congregated around the door, blocking the way.

  As soon as I was out in the hallway, I pulled both straps of my backpack on my shoulders and speed-walked to the main entrance. Once I was outside, I’d run as fast as I could to the bus stop.

  “Hey, Aida?” A hand wrapped around my bicep when I was inches away from the door, and I recognized the voice as the one from the lecture hall who asked someone if they were going to the party.

  I frowned as I spun on my feet and stared up at the huge guy in front of me. “I…huh?”

  “I asked if you were coming to the party tonight.” Brad—captain of the lacrosse team—pushed his hand through his highlighted hair and gave me what the other girls would have c
alled a panty-dropping smile. But my panties were firmly attached to my body.

  Wait…had he been asking me if I was going to the party?

  “Erm…” My gaze batted to the door, then back to him. “I need to get my bus.” I omitted his question, not sure whether I should have answered it or not. People like him didn’t ask students like me to parties. In fact, the last party I’d gone to was during my senior year of high school, and that was only because Noemi had dragged me there, demanding I experience at least one high school party in my lifetime.

  Brad’s lips quirked on one side as he stepped closer to me, his almost overpowering cologne too much for my nostrils to handle. I dipped my head back to keep eye contact with him, my gaze scanning his face and realizing he was the typical all-American guy. “I’m not letting you go until you answer my question, Aida.” He was trying to be flirty, and while I appreciated it, I had—

  I glanced at the time on my cell. “Fuck,” I growled. “I missed my bus.”

  “I can give you a lift home,” Brad said, his voice silky smooth. The mantra Ma had embedded into my mind blasted through me, but at this point, I didn’t have the energy to run across town so I could make it there in time. “You’ll be safe. Promise.” He finally let go of my arm and made a cross motion on his chest. “Come on, you can answer my question on the way.”

  I looked around us as he opened up the doors, seeing if anyone was watching, but there wasn’t. A couple of students milled about, but other than that, we were alone. “I…I’m not sure…” I bit down on my bottom lip, fully aware that it was now me who was blocking a doorway. Brad didn’t say anything as I stared at him. He just kept his gaze fixated on my face, letting me make the decision. It was his silence that had me caving because I really didn’t have another choice. “Okay,” I whispered, opening my cell and shooting off a quick message to my sister, just in case.

  Neither of us spoke as we walked across the quad to one of the parking lots. His keys jangled as he pulled them out of the front pocket of his light denim jeans, and then lights flashed on a bright red truck.

  Brad walked over to the passenger side, opened the door for me, then closed it once I was inside. It smelled like cologne and…sweat. I scrunched up my nose. Was this what all athletes’ cars smelled like? I tried not to let my disgust show on my face as he got into the truck and backed out of the spot, but as soon as we were pulling out of the college grounds, I opened the window a little.

  “Where am I heading?” he asked, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

  “Do you know Ricci Italy?”

  “I’ve heard of it,” Brad said, taking a right onto the main road.

  “There.”

  He nodded, not saying anything else until we were pulling up outside my family store. The windows to our apartment above the store were wide open, the curtains flapping out onto the outside wall from the wind. “So…” He kept the engine running and turned to face me. “Are you going to the party tonight?”

  I shook my head and undid my belt. “Can’t.” I pointed at the store. “I gotta work.” I probably could have just told him that when he’d first asked, but my brain had been trying to figure out what was going on and why he was asking me.

  “Oh.” His face dropped, and I wasn’t sure what to do. I never was good in situations like this. I was awkward, and not the cute, endearing kind of awkward, just the plain awkward awkward. “Maybe another time?” I continued, feeling like it was the right thing to say.

  “Next Friday?” he blurted out but immediately shook his head. “No, I have a game that day. Friday after? Two weeks from today?”

  “I—”

  “I’ll take you out somewhere nice. Maybe for Italian or something?”

  I chuckled. “No one cooks Italian food the way Ma does.”

  He laughed with me, his easy smile coming back onto his handsome face. A face I was beginning to enjoy staring at. “I’ll take you somewhere nice.”

  “Like a…” I glanced over to the front of the store, catching sight of my niece’s little eyes watching me. “A date?”

  “A date,” Brad confirmed, and my stomach dipped in response. “What do you say?”

  “Erm…” I looked back at him and inhaled a deep breath. “I guess? Sure, why not.” He grinned and opened his mouth, but I knew I had to leave now, not just because my shift would be starting any minute, but because I had to quit while I was ahead and not embarrass myself. “I have to go.”

  “Yeah, yeah, sure.” His lips pulled wider. “I’ll see you in two weeks if not before that.”

  “Okay.” I smiled, then pushed out of his truck, not looking back once as I scooped up Vida on the way into the store and held her to my chest.

  “Who was that, Auntie Aida?” her sweet little voice asked.

  “No one,” I sang, boosting her on my hip and walking toward the cash register that Noemi stood behind. “You look extra pretty today, Vida.”

  She giggled, her body giving way to the motion, and I couldn’t help but tickle her side, causing the laughter to get louder and her dark-brown hair to whip at my face. “Auntie!” she shouted, her body trying to squirm away from me.

  Once I was satisfied that I’d successfully distracted her, I halted and placed her on the counter between Noemi and me. I should have known better than to use Vida as a shield against Noemi’s verbal attack because it was only seconds until Noemi demanded, “Who’s the guy?”

  “No one,” I repeated, not veering away from the line I’d given Vida. I placed my hands on either side of Vida, the cool metal of the counter seeping into my palms. Noemi raised her perfectly shaped brow, silently telling me that I wasn’t fooling her. “Fine.” I rolled my eyes, feeling every bit like the teenager I was only a few years ago. I may have been about to turn twenty and Noemi twenty-six, but that didn’t matter when it came to our relationship. At heart, we’d always be the angsty teens fighting over who got to stay up later—which was always Noemi because she was the oldest. “He’s captain of the lacrosse team.”

  “What’s lacrosse?” Vida asked as she twirled my hair around her finger. She’d been trying to learn how to braid, but all she’d managed so far was a twisted version that left behind an epic number of knots.

  “It’s a rich guy’s game,” Noemi spluttered, unable to keep a straight face as she said it. “So, he brought you home, huh?”

  “Yep.” I pulled Vida off the counter and hoisted my backpack on my shoulder, itching to get away from this interrogation. I stepped around the back, so I was closer to Noemi and the door that led to the stairs of our small apartment. “He also asked me if I wanted to go out.” I darted away, knowing what would come next, but I didn’t have time to talk it to death with Noemi. Partly because I still didn’t understand it. I’d never spoken to Brad. During high school, I’d learned to keep to myself, and I’d perfected it by the time I’d gotten to college.

  “What?” Noemi’s voice got louder as I ran up the stairs, and as I turned at the top, I saw her at the bottom, staring up at me with wide eyes. “You’re going on a date with him?”

  I shrugged. I’d told him I would, but I wasn’t sure. I didn’t know Brad, but wasn’t getting to know the other person the whole point of a date? “Sure,” I whispered to Noemi, then spun around, getting as far away from her as I could so I didn’t have to think about it any longer.

  CHAPTER 2

  LORENZO

  Everyone was dressed in black, a sign of mourning but also respect for the head of the Beretta family. We stood in a line; first me, then Ma, followed by my little brother, Dante, then my little sister, Sofia. People shook our hands, apologizing for our loss, but none of it sunk in, not until my father was buried six feet under the ground.

  It was tradition to have people at the house after a funeral, but all I wanted was silence and space, neither of which I would get today—or what felt like ever again. As soon as we pulled up to the Beretta mansion we’d all grown up in, my body worked on automatic. I
walked through the double wooden doors, carved with an elaborate B and gilded with gold. The double-sided staircase led to the upstairs wings, but it wasn’t there that I moved toward. Instead, I headed down the hallway and toward the second door on the left, past the living room that no one ever sat in, and into my dad’s office.

  The door squeaked as I opened it, and part of me wondered if I would see my father sitting behind his desk, just like he’d always been. But he wasn’t. The room was empty of life—empty of him. A glass of half-drunk whisky sat on the middle of his desk with a couple of papers next to it.

  I walked past the two matching leather sofas and toward the drink cart in the corner adorned with all kinds of spirits. It was my father’s favorite whisky that I picked up, not bothering with a glass. Today wasn’t the day to hide how I felt, no matter how much I should have. Dad dying didn’t just mean he wasn’t in my life anymore. Our entire family hung in the balance, and the pressure of what was about to come pushed down on my shoulders, threatening to knock me off-kilter.

  “You gonna share that?” a deep voice asked, but I didn’t have the energy to turn and face him. I knew who it was.

  “Nope.” I strode toward my dad’s desk and sat on his old, leather chair. “Get your own bottle.”

  “Nah,” he replied, and I finally looked up at him—Christian Gallo, my best friend since before I could remember. He pushed his hand through his short inky black hair. “Think I’ll stay sober for now.”

  I snorted. There was no way I could face what would happen today. As if this morning wasn’t enough, I had to prepare for a meeting with The Enterprise. Ma said it couldn’t wait, that it had to be done asap, but all I wanted was one goddamn day so I could bury my father and not have to worry about the family.

  I leaned back in the chair and took a swig of the thousand-dollar liquid, loving the burn at the back of my throat. “Are they all out there?” I asked, already knowing the answer.