10.
I collapsed to the floor with fatigue and stared at the clock.
I was famished. It was six o'clock on Friday afternoon. Lucian was two hours late. My parents had left early that morning, hesitant to leave me alone. But I convinced them that I was eighteen and able to take care of myself. After they had left, I had been nervous about Lucian spending the weekend and had preoccupied myself with pacing and cleaning unnecessarily. Still, when I was trying to distract myself, one thing kept repeating itself over and over despite my attempts to ignore it.
We would be alone. Without any interruptions.
But apparently, someone was too important to show up at the agreed upon time. I didn't have my phone, that was true, but he knew the house number and the phone had remained silent for two hours.
"Fuck."
Standing, I dragged myself to the kitchen and rummaged around in the pantry before grabbing the bag of potato chips. I couldn't believe him. After we had just talked about this at my graduation party, no less. Ten minutes late was pushing it, but two hours? But what if he was wounded? Or worse, killed?
Those scenarios just made me even more anxious.
Opening the bag of salty and equally greasy chips, I chomped on them, glancing once again at the clock. Just as I caught sight of the Oreos, and wondered if we had enough peanut butter, the doorbell rang.
Taking the bag of chips with me, I slowly walked to the door, spying Lucian standing on the doorstep. A messenger bag was slung across his shoulder, and in one arm, he held a paper bag. He cocked his head to the side when he saw me through the window, his face serious and almost guilty. No smirk was present. That was a plus, but hardly meaningful.
I stood on the other side as I chewed another mouthful of chips, not bothering to open the door. After waiting a good minute, I reached toward the door, opening it, but keeping the screen door shut. I crinkled my bag, looking at the chips nonchalantly before glancing indifferently up at him.
"Are you experiencing near-death symptoms?" I asked coldly.
He sighed. "No Afton, I—"
"Were you shot?"
Lucian's lips thinned. "I wasn't, but—"
"Then you can stand on my doorstep for two fucking hours before I consider letting you in." I smiled brightly and slammed the door on his face.
God, that felt good. I dug into my bag of chips, turning my back on him and entering the kitchen. Yeah, I knew I just snubbed the mafia underboss and there may be consequences, especially if he had men around the house, witnessing the scene. But Lucian wasn't going to treat me like some desperate housewife and I refused to accept his lame excuses.
The doorbell rang again, and this time, he held his finger over the button. I should leave him out there, but I knew I had to face him eventually and I really didn't want to explain why someone shot our door handle to pieces.
Sliding along the floor in my socks, I yanked the door open and unlocked the screen door. I didn't bother opening it for him, he could get it himself. As I turned to the kitchen, I heard Lucian enter the house.
"I got held back over a trade, Afton." Lucian's voice followed me through the house and into the kitchen. "A senseless idiot thought he could outwit us and—"
I cast him a cool glance and turned my shoulder on him.
"You're angry," Lucian began softly, "I understand completely."
"That doesn't change the fact that you're still two hours late." I turned to him with a grimace. "Not a few minutes, but two hours. Your whole 'I understand completely' gimmick won't work on me again."
Why did Lucian have to look so handsome and blameless right then? I felt my anger subside when I realized how much of a mess he looked from his normally pristine appearance. His hair was disheveled and his suit was a bit on the untidy side. There was color to his cheeks as if he had just exerted himself and his dark eyes were bright with both emotion and adrenaline. He held up a hand as he vowed, "it will never happen again, little Conti."
He took an advancing step forward and I took one step backward.
"You're damn right it won't."
Lucian stopped his pursuit, feigning defeat, before suddenly lunging with a faint smile. I jumped backward with a startled laugh at his antics. His fingers just barely caught hold of my shirt before he tugged me forward and into his arms. He gathered my protesting form into a tight embrace before kissing the top of my head.
Again. And again.
"I'm sorry, Afton."
My attempts to escape his hold were pathetic and weak. Tony would be so ashamed.
The arms around me were so tight and secure. I could lift up my feet and Lucian would be able to support me. The kisses rained across my head before beginning to shower my forehead and cheeks. I gave a closed-mouth chuckle as I tried to turn my head and avoid his lips. He was such an ass. An irresistible ass.
"I'm trying to be justifiably upset."
"And I'm being justifiably apologetic," Lucian countered. He moved me against the counter, caging me in. His open hand splayed the side of my cheek, moving my face around to meet his.
I did nothing to stop the kiss.
Even if I could, I don't know if I would have wanted to.
It was chaste, teasing.
Lucian pulled back, encircling me loosely with his body.
"I don't want to be your anxious housewife," I murmured quietly. "Don't make me like that."
"I have no intentions of treating you like that. I couldn't get out of the meeting. I couldn't. They took our phones. I had no way of reaching you." Lucian frowned. "Trust me when I say I would have rather been here than there. And as I sat there, watching the time, I knew you'd be stewing angry."
He reached over my head and plucked something from the bag.
A white rose with red edges was placed against my bottom lip. I nearly went cross-eyed getting a proper look at the masculine flower before rolling my eyes up to consider the smug, and alluring Lucian. My resolve—whatever weak resolve was there before the kissing and bear hug attack— abruptly crumbled.
"I'm just glad you're okay."
I snatched the flower from his hand.
Only when he turned away, did I explore the soft petals with admiring fingers.
"I'll make it up to you with the most amazing dinner you have ever had." He moved away from me and rummaged through the paper bag again. "What cuisine should I make tonight? Italian, Mexican, or Italian?" Lucian raised his eyebrows expectantly.
"Tough decision," I mused dryly as I played idly with the rose. I never thought someone would give me a rose. But I think I appreciated it more than Summer Lester had appreciated hers. I carefully placed the rose amongst the other flowers my mother had displayed. "I'd say Italian."
"Good choice." Lucian took out a box of noodles. "I was hoping you would say that. I only have ingredients for Italian."
Scoffing, I made my way over to the island, looking into his bag and seeing tomatoes, chicken, and different sorts of spices and wine. There was also a pack of Nicorette gum. Flashing his turned shoulder a bemused look, I pulled the box out, shaking the gum at him.
"Planning on putting this in the dinner as well?"
He turned, seeing what had caught my attention. "I was doing so well," he proclaimed appearing a bit guilty. "I lasted a whole week without any cigarettes, but today I nearly smoked a pack."
I grimaced, having had already smelt the cigarette smoke underneath his cologne. Staring down at the box, I knew he was trying to quit smoking because of me. "Lower right cupboard," I mumbled distantly as I watched him rifle through the cabinets from the corner of my eye. "It must be difficult to quit smoking."
Lucian pulled out a pot and tossed me a distracted glance as I studied the box. "Not if you're determined enough."
"Ah, yes," I drawled, "nothing is too challenging for Luciano Romano."
His eyes were full of mirth as he filled the pot with water. "I will readily admit you would be my most difficult challenge."
I scoffed as I placed down the Nicorette gum. I happened to glance at the duffle bag Lucian had brought with him before he had discarded it near the kitchen island. I felt heat on my neck and cheeks as I considered what that bag meant. "You're staying over. For the night." It wasn't a question, because I already knew the answer to that. He said he wanted to spend the weekend with me. That meant the nights, too.
Why did I just say that out loud, then?
Lucian placed the prepared chicken on the heated skillet. Although he was turned away from me, his profile easily gave away the fact that he was smiling. "I will only stay here if you are okay with it." The man already knew the answer to that. Propriety sake was the only reason he was throwing it out there. "If I can sleep in your bed, the better."
"I—"
Yes, please.
But also no.
"Well..." My tongue turned dry and I glanced once more at his bag. I could continue to stutter my way through an awkward response, or try to make light of the situation as I normally did. "If your food is passable, I suppose you can stay here. If it's excellent, you can stay in my bed."
Lucian stopped what he was doing, his eyebrows hitched in surprise. "Are you sure you want to bargain with that? I have very deep Italian roots. My mother is a strict instructor when it comes to teaching us how to cook." The man suddenly smiled and his teasing tone was gone. " I was only joking. You don't need to accept me in your bed tonight, Afton. Besides, after a couple glasses of wine, you won't be in your right mind."
"I'll have you know I'm not a lightweight," I lied as I remembered my getaway with Tony to Connecticut.
"We'll see about that." Lucian turned the burner on high and ushered me out of the room. "Go. I'll call you when it's ready." Before I could argue, Lucian had a knife in his hand, looking at me threateningly as he twirled it expertly between his fingers.
My departure was as quick as possible.
Not because I was intimidated, but because I found Lucian incredibly sexy when he did that...
M.R.
"What are you doing, Afton?"
I buried my face toward the pile of DVDs scattered across the floor. I was sorting through my movies, debating which one we should watch tonight. It would give us something to do. Groping and manhandling weren't on my list of activities tonight. "Deciding what movie we should watch tonight."
"Oh, of course." Lucian looked over my shoulder to catch a glimpse at the titles. "Scarface, The Godfather, Goodfellas, The Last Don... you've got to be kidding me, Afton."
Feigning utter seriousness, I turned to look at him from over my shoulder, our noses nearly brushing. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't keep a straight face. Laughing, I turned away from his expressionless face and held up The Godfather. "I think a mafia movie is rather fitting considering our circumstances," I drawled.
His breath tickled the hairs underneath my ear.
"Is dinner ready?" I asked weakly as I hunched away, feeling my skin prickle agreeably.
"It is." A hand offered itself to me.
Without hesitating, I grabbed it, standing up with his aid.
There was a certain aura of smugness radiating from Lucian as he led me out of my room and down the stairs. Instantly, I noticed the dinner table decorated with burning candles and two crystal glasses of chilled, white wine. On each plate sat angel-haired noodles with sautéed chicken, tomato paste, and giant stuffed shells. It looked delicious, but hopefully not so delicious that I would be inviting Lucian into my bed.
But if it came to that, I knew we wouldn't be doing anything... exploratory.
Lucian was enough of a gentleman not to take advantage.
"Who knew you could be such a romantic." I grinned as he pulled out the chair for me. As I sat, I hoped he didn't notice my awkwardness. He sat down next to me, giving me a smoldering stare that competed with the burning candles.
Lucian was a romantic. I wondered if he was a true romantic who would forever have that flame to him, or if he was one of those one-time romantic men who stopped courting after they got married. My father was one of those one-timers. Often enough, I heard my mother complain about his lack of creativity when it came to their romance life. Marcello usually thought business dinner parties were a date.
Although Lucian's actions were flattering, I was always aware of the threat he presented. The way he sat, the way he walked, the way he stared, were all indications of the danger lurking below the surface. He was a romantic, but he was also a predator.
"When it comes to you, little Conti, I find it easy to be romantic."
I rolled my eyes, waiting uncertainly. I was hungry. The only thing I ate today were a few chips and a quick attempt at oatmeal this morning. "Try it," Lucian urged, leaning forward, waiting for me to try his dish. "I want to see if I'll be sleeping on the couch tonight."
At his urging, I picked up the fork and curled a few noodles around the bristles, making sure I had enough sauce and chicken.
Pausing, I flashed the eager underboss a smirk before taking my first bite. And oh, damn. That was good. My taste buds swelled pleasantly. There was an equal balance of spice and sweet. I could also taste a bit of garlic and hot pepper and perhaps a bit of cooking wine. Other than that, there was a plethora of other tastes that I couldn't pinpoint. All of it mixed well with the plump tomatoes and the tender, moist and seasoned chicken.
I looked at him reluctantly, grinning. "It's... incredible."
Lucian pressed his lips inquisitively. "Incredible? Is that a ticket into your room tonight?"
"If you keep it up, it's a ticket outside."
Lucian laughed cheerfully, grabbing his wine and sipping it.
I enjoyed the meal, never tasting something so good. The stuffed shells were just as delicious, Lucian going above and behind to provide two main dishes. I could forgive Lucian for being late when he had this kind of talent for cooking. I know my mom never made anything this good. My dad... well, he didn't know his way around a box of macaroni and cheese.
We enjoyed the meal in a comfortable silence and I tried to refrain from slurping the noodles like I always did when I was alone. Lucian was the one to break the silence with a question I had never thought he would ask. "Judging from the collection of movies you have, I imagine you've seen The Godfather, correct?"
He was finished with his dinner, sitting back against his chair in a superior manner, nursing his wine.
I, on the other hand, slouched forward, leaning my elbow on the table and sipping the wine from time to time. It got me all warm and light-headed. But I was proud to say I wasn't too buzzed, as of yet.
"Yeah..." I extended the one-word answer as a sort of question.
Lucian leaned forward, removing my wine glass with his opposite hand and nudging a glass of water in my direction. "And do you think that is similar to a real-life mafia?" he asked, leaning back against his chair.
I was too distracted with his question to pay much attention to my wine.
It was a difficult question. I wondered what Lucian would think if I answered wrongly. But I was known for saying whatever was on my mind and speaking the truth. "It's fiction," I began hesitantly. "I think there is some truth to it and some fiction. When I think of the mafia, I think of drugs, prostitutes, guns, and death."
Lucian stared at his wine glass. "That is mostly what does accompany the mafia, yes. We negotiate and sell illegal items and make money from it. What do you think of the Boss?"
This is one of the few times where Lucian's demeanor was serious. There was no sign of a smirk or smile and his eyes were hard and calculating. I knew he wasn't cold toward me, but rather the subject at hand. Discussing the mafia was private business and I'm sure he and the rest of the 'Family' didn't talk about the inner-workings of their organization. In fact, I was more than sure they couldn't talk about these things to people outside the Family.
"Your father?" I asked weakly, wondering when I began to feel as if I were stepping on ice with him.
"He's my Padre, yes, but I want to know what you think of the Boss. When you hear about the Don or Godfather, what do you think the real-life mafia Boss is like?"
"Cruel," I said truthfully. "Vicious, cold. Smart."
"He's all those things, but he's also generous." Lucian leaned forward, looking at me through the flame of the candle. "The Family is very close. And my father is a very generous man to women and men outside his organization. You see, there are people who come to him for help. And he accepts their pleas, even when they cannot pay with monetary means."
"So... he's a lot like... a god?" I asked sarcastically.
Lucian flashed me a brief smile. "My father looks upon friendship as very valuable. He knows, just as well as his 'clients' know, that they are in his debt. And when the time comes, they will repay him. Your little friend—Anthony? His family has already gone to my father for a favor."
That was a surprise to me.
Here, I thought that the mafia had approached Tony's family but it was the other way around.
"They needed help paying for their daughter's cancer treatment. Because of my father, they don't need to pay a dime."
I hadn't known. I always thought the mafia was just about organized crime and not about giving a shit about real people and their problems. Apparently, Lucian's father was a man who liked to spread his generosity. His actions could be to gain more supporters, and yet, it was still surprising that he would solve the problems of ordinary people.
"Your grandfather needed help with the law," Lucian said. "He came to my father and pleaded for the Boss to help him and his family become legal citizens to the United States." I hadn't known that either. "Your family was in debt to the Romano Family before you were even born. Your brother was a potential fighter and we recruited him as repayment."
"Do you recruit often?"
Tony told me the mafia recruited and then killed their potential recruit if they refused to pledge their loyalty.
"No." Lucian scoffed. "Young men always approach us in hopes of joining the Family. Most of them just want the status while others are dead or imprisoned within a few months of joining. We don't like to recruit much."
"That's...." I tried to search for the correct term. "I mean, I was told from—"
"Your little friend?" Lucian smirked. "I suppose he doesn't know his parents are in our debt for assisting them with their daughter's treatment."
I knew Lucian didn't like Tony. His jealousy evident in both his tone and expression whenever Tony was brought up in conversation. "Tony knows a few things," I defended. "He knows his parents are Associates to the Family."
The man nodded once. "And what do you think I do, Afton?"
There was a dry, bitter tone to his question.
"You're the Boss' heir. The underboss."
He cocked his head with acknowledgement. "Sadly, I don't get to spread as much generosity as my father. I'm the force behind my father's order. I direct most of the Family around. I kill those in our way or those who create problems." I shifted at his penetrating stare, already having a hunch that Lucian killed. "You don't seem too affected."
"I already knew you killed, Lucian."
"Don't tell me you accept it," Lucian said chillingly. "Someone as wholesome as yourself can't accept killing that easily."
I shifted uncomfortably and stared down at my empty plate. "I'm not okay with the killing. I'm obviously against unnecessary death." I glanced up at him. "What I meant to say is that I'm not repelled with you. I can see that you regret killing. You are jealous of your father," I deliberated, remembering how he described his father. "You want to be the one giving out orders, not the one to carry them out."
Lucian sat motionlessly as he digested my assertion.
"You're observant." He leaned forward and reached for my hand. His fingers caressed my knuckles and a smile crossed his lips. "I want to introduce you to my family tomorrow."
I sat there.
And then my mind processed the words.
"I... can't?" I asked hoarsely. The very thought of seeing the Boss scared the shit out of me.
The underboss took my hand captive and brought my knuckles to his mouth. He traced over the back of my fingers with his lips. "My brother won't be there. He's not back from college yet. My Madre has already pestered me about bringing you home. And my sister...she's eight-years-old and quite excited to meet you. She's dying to know if you like Harry Potter."
I snorted at that, feeling a bit better that his mother wanted to meet me.
Quite honestly, I was surprised that Lucian even talked about me to his family. But his father... I wasn't easily threatened by many people, but I was scared of him. The Boss. The man was all powerful... he was...
"Say yes," Lucian purred with an evil glint in his eyes.
I felt his tongue circle my knuckles before teeth began to nibble. I moaned in my throat at the slick and painful sensation, my stomach flip-flopping. "Fine, fine!" I pulled my hand away from him, glaring. "You play unfair, you know that, right?"
"How is your father, by the way?" Lucian asked, changing the topic. "After he walked in on us, what did he say?"
I slumped as I remembered the looks my father gave me. He'd said nothing, but his obvious disgust was enough to distinguish what he thought about the whole thing. It was only this morning we had been alone. My relatives had stayed at our house since yesterday night. I was sure my father hadn't told my mother, not yet. She seemed normal when she said goodbye this morning.
"He hasn't said anything." I perked up and flashed the man a grin. Lucian wasn't fooled. He never was. "I mean, he hasn't talked to me at all since that day."
"Your father should have remained unemployed until he learned his lesson. It appears as if he hasn't. Perhaps, a more serious punishment—"
"Lucian," I warned, "you were doing so well tonight."
"Your father treats you horribly."
"It's not all bad." I gave the man an honest answer. "I'm not his ideal son, and each day, I remind him that I'm not him."
"I am relieved you turned out the way you did," he crooned. He kissed my cheek, his lips all but burning an after-impression into my skin. I cleared my throat, unable to hide the goofy smile. I blamed it on the wine. "When did you start doing art?" Lucian asked curiously. "I had believed children were easily manipulated when they are young. Didn't your father buy you plastic doctor tools and have you play physician?"
"Now that I think about it, he did purchase a first aid kit," I remembered fondly. "But I had a babysitter who was an art major. He would sit with me and we'd draw together." I paused and eyed him unhappily. "When Nick started working for the Family, I started drawing a bit more. He was never around and he used work as his excuse. That's when I started resenting you."
"That was obvious from the start," Lucian remarked dryly. "The night I came over here, you were sulking throughout the entire dinner. I saw the resentment. It got me interested."
"You only liked me because I didn't treat you like glass."
"That was only one reason," Lucian contended. "You were also eye candy. I couldn't help myself."
His attention made me shift uneasily. "You're so full of it."
"I'm not afraid to admit my attraction, are you?" Lucian challenged, raising a single eyebrow.
"No," I denied with a mumble. I swallowed past the block in my throat. "I may blame it on the wine tomorrow, but you are extremely handsome and I find it impossible not to look at you." Lucian looked very pleased. "I'm going to stop there because you're already so full of yourself. Inflating your ego is unwise."
The man tipped back his head and laughed.
M.R.
I wasn't nervous.
Why should I be?
All the dishes were washed and put away and we were currently in my bedroom. My pulse was quickening and I found it hard to breathe normally. Lucian was in the bathroom, changing and getting ready for bed. As soon as he had disappeared into the bathroom, I had hurriedly stripped down to my boxers and a tank top before diving underneath my covers.
Nothing was going to happen. I wouldn't let it. So why was I so uneasy and so excited?
The Godfather was currently playing on the television and I couldn't concentrate on it. Not when Lucian was in the bathroom next to me, undressing. I didn't have much time to think over the image that conjured itself, for the door opened and Lucian emerged, confident as ever. Against the headboard, I observed him, surprised to see his body so unveiled. I had never seen him without a dressy suit, but here he was, in his boxers and a fitted shirt.
He looked good. His legs were strong and nicely shaped and I could see his biceps peeking from beneath the cuff of his shirt. I knew he was stronger than I was, but I never knew he had muscles that were well-defined.
I swallowed as he sat next to me. The predatory gleam in his eye was unmistakable.
"Are you sure you're fine with me in here?"
I watched as he placed a gun on the bedside table before giving me his full attention.
"Perfectly fine," I whispered dryly.
Chuckling, he reached over and placed a hand on my upper leg. Curling his fingers around my inner thigh, he forcibly pulled my body toward him. "Then act like I'm here and not twenty feet away," he growled playfully. I was all but sprawled across his lap as he laid me down next to him. "I'm not going to try anything, Afton," he said in all seriousness. "I know you aren't ready and I will respect that. You can relax."
"Yes, sir," I grumbled, trying to make my body relax under his watchful stare.
By the time we were both under the covers and the glow from the TV was the only source of light, I felt tired. His legs were against mine, not shy and completely domineering. Fingers ran down my arm before they danced up my neck and threw my hair in a soothing gesture. Lucian was somehow making me relax. He was being modest when I knew he wanted to do more to me.
Placing my cheek against his chest, I couldn't stop the sleep from claiming me.