Lorenzo Beretta Page 7

  LORENZO

  “Morning, brother,” a soft voice greeted.

  I glanced up from my cell screen to see Sofia pulling out her usual chair. “Morning.”

  “I see it didn’t take you long.” She pointed to the seat I was in—a seat I’d hesitated to take. For all of our lives, we’d had our set places at the table. My dad at the head, my ma at his right, and me at his left. Dante sat next to Ma and Sofia next to me.

  But all that changed the moment I said my vows. The second I became the boss.

  Now it was me sitting at the head of the table.

  “It’s my rightful place,” I told Sofia and set down my cell on the table. I had a meeting in ten minutes, and she was the only one who had come down for breakfast so far.

  Sofia shrugged, her highlighted hair drifting over her shoulder at the move. “It is. I just…I hadn’t expected it so soon.” She paused, her gaze meeting mine as her usual breakfast was placed in front of her. “It’s just different, I suppose.”

  I knew what she meant, and if I was honest with myself, I agreed. It was different. Everything was different now.

  “You’ll get used to it,” a voice said, and my lips immediately lifted at the corners. Ma always knew exactly what to say. Where Dad had struggled with the emotional stuff, Ma had excelled. She tapped my shoulder twice and placed a kiss on my cheek. “Morning.”

  “Morning, Ma.” I tracked her movements as she pulled out her usual chair.

  “Wait.” She halted, her eyes widening. “This isn’t my seat anymore.”

  “What?” I frowned over at her. “Of course, it is.”

  “It’s not.” Her gaze moved behind me, and my back straightened. I could feel her before I’d seen her. And although I knew I should have turned around and greeted her, I couldn’t. I needed to set out as I meant to go on. She wasn’t here to be my partner. She was here to be my wife in name only.

  “Sit down, Ma.”

  Ma cut her eyes at me, not needing to say a single word for me to know she wasn’t happy with what I had said. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her I was the one who decided where everyone would sit, but I knew my limits. Respect was a two-way street, and she was still my ma.

  “Aida, come and sit here.” Ma pointed at the seat she’d half pulled out. “Your place is by Lorenzo’s side.” I hated the words she’d spoken. I didn’t want anyone by my side. If I had it my way, I would have stayed as free as a bird and put all of my energy and focus into the business. But rules were made for a reason, and not even I could break them—not yet anyway.

  I heard the shuffling of feet, the waft of Aida’s rose scent, and then she was sitting next to me. I gritted my teeth, trying to tell myself to act in a certain way, but it was hard when all my head was focused on was a stranger sitting at the table. I didn’t know her—I didn’t want to know her.

  “What would you like for breakfast, Mrs. Beretta?” the housekeeper, Mrs. Larson, asked, her gaze downcast. She’d been working here for twenty years, and I could count on one hand the number of times she’d actually looked any of us in the eyes.

  “Erm…” My nostrils flared at the sound of Aida’s voice. “I don’t usually eat breakfast.”

  “It’s the most important meal of the day,” Sofia supplied, her tone mocking. I stared at her, willing her with my eyes to look my way, but she was too focused on Aida. “Right, Ma?”

  “Oh. Well.” Aida cleared her throat. “We don’t usually sit and eat breakfast together as a family. It’s more of a grab-and-go type situation.”

  “You don’t eat together?” Sofia asked, bringing a spoonful of oatmeal to her lips. “That’s…weird.” Her eyes widened. “I don’t mean it’s bad. Just…something we don’t do. I’m sorry—”

  “Don’t be silly.” Aida laughed. “I get it.” My gaze drifted to her, but my head stayed in exactly the same position. “We’re all just so busy at home.” Her eyes lit up and her lips lifted into a smile I hadn’t seen on her face before. “Dad is normally out on deliveries, and Ma is working in the shop. Noemi is at her second job, which just leaves Vida and me.”

  “Vida?” Ma asked, engrossed in what Aida was saying. Part of me wished she’d sat down silently like I’d wanted her to do, but the other part of me was intrigued.

  “She’s my niece.” Aida leaned forward, her hands planted on the solid oak table. “She was here yesterday.”

  “Oh! Yes.” Ma laughed. “I remember her. Such a little beauty.”

  “She is.” Aida sighed. “So yeah, it’s normally just us two. I help Noemi out by taking her to school some mornings if she’s not back from her job in time. If I’m not doing that, then I’m heading to college.”

  “College?” Ma asked. “I didn’t realize you were in college.”

  “Yeah. I’m in my second year. I’m there on scholarship.”

  “That’s amazing,” Sofia said, her tone wistful. “I always wanted to go to college, but school just wasn’t my strength.”

  “It’s not for everyone,” Aida said, winning over Sofia in a single sentence. “I’m sure you have other awesome talents.”

  “I do.” Sofia leaned forward, fully into the conversation now. “I love to draw. And paint. Anything artsy. I have part of my bedroom converted into an art studio upstairs. Maybe you can come and—”

  I pushed my chair back and stared at my half-finished breakfast sitting on the table. “I have a meeting.” All conversation stopped at my words, but I didn’t look at any of them. I needed to get out of here. I needed to get away. I needed to not be reminded of what I’d done yesterday—what I’d committed to.

  “I’ll see you later, Ma.” I spun on my heels, not acknowledging anyone else, and headed straight for my office.

  I hadn’t been in there since it was officially mine. For weeks I’d waited to make it my own, haunted by the memories inside the four walls. But now, I was able to do whatever I wanted to it, and I had the perfect person in mind who could help.

  Grinning, I pulled my cell out and shot off an email to Veev. She’d not only get the job done, but she’d be able to distract me from everything else.

  The perfect combination.

  AIDA

  “You don’t understand,” I groaned. “It’s like I’m constantly walking on eggshells.”

  Noemi laughed as she rang up another customer, clicking the numbers on the screen with her fake nails. “I don’t understand?” She raised her brow and turned her head so she could make eye contact with me. “You’re right, Aida. I don’t understand. I don’t understand what it’s like to live in a freaking mansion.”

  She turned back to the customer. “Fifteen dollars and fifty-eight cents.” The guy placed a twenty in her palm, and I watched as my sister grabbed his change from the drawer and handed it to him.

  “It’s not about the mansion,” I snapped as soon as the bell over the door rang, signaling there was no one in the store but Noemi and me. “It’s been four days, and he hasn’t said a single word to me.”

  “He’s adjusting.”

  “Or maybe he’s just an asshole.” I ground my teeth together and sloped forward. “Why did I agree to this?”

  “Because you wanted to live in a fancy mansion?” Noemi asked, laughing so loud it ricocheted off the walls. “Listen”—she put her hand on my shoulder—“it’s been four days, give it some time.” She shrugged. “Get to know each other. Find out what he likes and what he doesn’t like. Cook him dinner. Just get to know him.”

  I let out a breath, knowing she was right. Lorenzo and I didn’t know each other, not really. “Fine.” I stood and glanced around the store. “I suppose I could take the ingredients to make Ma’s spaghetti.”

  Noemi moaned and rubbed her stomach. “Yes. There’s no way he’d turn down spaghetti.” She wagged her finger in my face. “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

  I laughed at her words, but I agreed with her. We needed to get to know each other. We needed to not be strangers li
ving in the same home. So instead of sitting here for another two hours moaning about how much Lorenzo was ignoring me, I decided to do something about it. It wasn’t as if he was going to come to me, so that meant I had to go to him.

  It was already nearing five, and I knew the housekeeper would have dinner ready for seven, so if I got a taxi back to the mansion, I could make it there in time to cook.

  I gathered everything I needed, told Noemi to put it on Lorenzo’s tab, and hightailed it out of there. Luck was on my side because as soon as I held my hand out for a taxi, one pulled over. It was almost as if destiny was trying to work her magic because not one red light stopped us from the store to the mansion.

  “Thanks!” I handed the taxi driver some cash and pushed out of the back, then headed toward the gates. I’d already managed to forget the code to get inside, so I pressed the buzzer, waiting for someone to answer, but after a couple of minutes of silence, I started to get antsy.

  Standing outside the Beretta family mansion on my own was asking for someone to put a target on my back. I’d been warned by Lorenzo’s ma to always watch my back and to be aware of everything going on around me, so the more I waited out here, the more on edge I became.

  “Trying to get in?” a deep, gravelly voice asked.

  I squealed, my heart jumping into my throat. “Fuck.” I slammed my hand onto my chest, my eyes widening as a tall man sauntered toward me, but the closer he got, the more I recognized him as Dante, Lorenzo’s brother. Thank God for that.

  “I forgot the code,” I said sheepishly, trying to balance the bag of groceries and my backpack. I wasn’t sure which one was heavier—the backpack. Definitely the backpack. “I should have memorized it or—”

  “I’ve been living here all my life, and I still don’t remember it,” Dante said, swiping his hand through his hair. Where Lorenzo was all harsh lines and broodiness, Dante was easygoing and smooth. They were complete opposites, but he still had the telltale Beretta stare, and no doubt the same violence ran through his veins. I shivered, trying to shake the memory of the blood from my wedding night, and focused back on Dante. There was something about him that put me at ease. Something less intense.

  He leaned past me, his arm touching mine, and pressed the buzzer. Only he didn’t let go after a couple of seconds. He just kept his thumb planted on it, smiling into the dome above it.

  “Does that really—” The gates opened up, and I blinked. “Work?”

  “Yep.” He stood to his full height, at least as tall as Lorenzo, definitely over six feet, and took the bag from my arms. “What’s all this?”

  I blinked, not overthinking it as I walked by his side through the now open gates. “I wanted to cook…for Lorenzo.”

  “Yeah?” Dante grinned. “Do I get to taste it too?”

  “If you want.” I hauled my backpack higher on my shoulder. “I always make enough to feed ten thousand anyway.” I laughed, feeling like the tension that had been a permanent fixture in my body was starting to ease. “Lorenzo likes pasta, right?”

  “Of course.” Dante’s gaze flicked to the area opposite the mansion doors, and I knew he was remembering what happened in that spot. He’d been there, witnessing it all, and I wondered whether that was what happened on the regular. These weren’t normal men. No, these were Mafia men who grew up with their fate pinned to their backs. They knew they’d be nothing other than part of the family. And for the first time, I wondered if that was what Lorenzo actually wanted.

  He hadn’t had a choice in marrying me either. He couldn’t walk away from this. He couldn’t say no, not unless he didn’t want to take over. Maybe I’d misjudged him? Maybe we were more similar than I realized. We were both stuck in this situation, so we may as well make the most of it. Right?

  The doors swung open as we got closer, and the action pulled both Dante and me out of our own heads. “You need this taken into the kitchen?” Dante asked.

  “Please.” I smiled over at him, trying not to show that it was forced. He headed toward the kitchen at the back of the mansion, and as soon as I stepped inside the bustling room, my shoulders slumped. I felt at home back here. It was familiar, like this was where I was meant to be. Not on the other side, having someone cook for me.

  “Mrs. Beretta,” the housekeeper said, her tone shocked. “Do you need something?”

  I shook my head and placed my backpack on one of the chairs. “Just your permission to cook tonight.”

  The housekeeper’s eyes widened. “You don’t need my permission.” She lunged away from the stovetop. “It’s all yours.”

  I laughed as Dante placed my bag of ingredients down. “Only for tonight,” I told her, trying to make it seem like I wasn’t taking over. “I just wanted to cook something special for Lorenzo.” My tone got more and more unsure the more I spoke, but as Dante slipped past me and grinned, I felt a little more confident in what I was doing. I mean, what was the worst that could happen?

  CHAPTER 6

  LORENZO

  I sniffed, my stomach rumbling at the smell wafting through the house from the kitchen. I had no idea what Mrs. Larson was cooking, but it was unlike anything else I’d ever smelled.

  “So, we’re agreed?” Uncle Antonio asked, sitting in one of the chairs on the other side of my new black marble desk. Veev had gone to work right away on the office decor, and although it wasn’t exactly my taste, it would be good enough for now. Just until I felt like I wasn’t walking in my dad’s shadow.

  “Yeah.” I leaned back in my chair and clicked the top of my pen over and over again. It was hard to think clearly when all I could smell was what promised to be a tasty meal. “What about the guns?”

  “What about them?” Uncle Alonzo asked.

  “Can we expand?” I asked, trying to get back on track. I had big ideas moving forward, but I knew it couldn’t be done all at once. I had to tread lightly to make sure that when we made our move, it wouldn’t be temporary. We needed new ways of working, new connections, and I’d been working on those connections for a long fuckin’ time.

  “To where?”

  “Out of state.” I tilted my head. “I have some contacts.”

  Uncle Alonzo groaned. “Not the bikers.” I grinned at him. “Your father didn’t want to get mixed up with—”

  “I’m not my father,” I snapped, throwing the pen onto my desk and trying not to wince at the loud clang. “Things are changing, Uncle. Nothing is like it used to be. Dad was stuck in the old ways, but the feds have worked it out. If we want to sustain the lives that we have—or make them better—then we need to look at new places and get into business with people that no one thinks we would.” I rapped my knuckles on the desk and stood. “We need to make surprises at every turn.” I walked around the desk and pushed my hands into my slacks pockets. “It’s the future.”

  Uncle Alonzo looked skeptical, but the curve of the corner of Uncle Antonio’s lips told me he approved. Not that I was looking for approval, but it was nice to see either way.

  “You’re the boss,” Uncle Alonzo finally said.

  “I am.” I glanced around the room at the men inside it—the men I trusted most. Uncle Alonzo, Uncle Antonio, Christian, and Dante. Dante was still learning the inner workings, but I knew it wouldn’t take him long. Beretta blood ran through his veins, and there was nothing stronger than that. “Tomorrow we need to discuss the Paolo situation—”

  A knock at the door interrupted me, and I narrowed my eyes at it. Everybody knew not to disturb the room when the door was closed.

  “Dinner is ready!” a sweet voice sang. I clenched my hands at the sound, trying to shoot daggers through the door.

  “Why the hell is she—”

  “She cooked for you,” Dante said, and I growled at being interrupted a second time. He acted like he didn’t hear my frustration loud and clear as he grinned at me. “She’s trying to be a good Italian woman.” He winked. “That’s what you wanted, right?” He laughed, walking past me and skimming his sho
ulder against my arm. “Come on now, Lorenzo. Your wife has summoned you.”

  “Fuck you,” I ground out. “I don’t get fuckin’ summoned.”

  “So that’s not your stomach rumbling at the smell of her food, then?” My stomach rumbled as if on cue, and Dante let out an obnoxiously loud laugh.

  I stepped toward him. “You better fuckin’ run, little brother.”

  “Or what?” He backed away, holding his hands in the air. “You gonna chop my hands off too?”

  “Only if you steal what’s mine,” I gritted out, advancing toward him.

  “That a promise?” Dante asked as he turned the door handle and pulled the door open just enough for him to slip through it.

  “Yeah, it is.” I followed him out of the office, not taking my attention off him for a second as he backed all the way up to the dining room door. Only when it hit his back did he spin around and dart inside.

  I pushed my shoulders back and smirked. He knew better than to put his back to me. No one ever turned their back on me, not if they knew what was good for them. I’d spent my entire twenties building a reputation in the city—in the state. A reputation I knew I’d need if I was to take over as boss.

  “Oh. I didn’t realize we had guests.” I halted at the sound of her voice again, feeling a shiver roll up my spine. How the hell did she keep appearing out of nowhere? “I made extra, so there’s enough for everyone.” Of course, she did. Not only was she sweet, but she’d also made sure there was enough food to go around. Why the hell had she done that? Why was she grating on me so much? And why the hell couldn’t my stomach get the memo and stop fuckin’ grumbling.

  “We’re not staying,” Uncle Antonio grunted. “My wife will shoot me if I’m late for dinner again this week.” Inside, I wanted to laugh because there was no way my aunt Vivianna would do anything to hurt him. She was the sweetest, most kindest damn woman I knew.

  “Okay, then.” I turned my head to see Aida standing there, holding a hot dish with several towels. “What about you, Uncle Alonzo?” she asked.