Page 27 of All Your Lies (All or Nothing #2)

twenty-two

Alexa

M y doorbell rings precisely at six. I already know who it is. I open the door and gaze into Gage’s deep-blue eyes.

This is our first official date, though I’d never tell him I thought of it as such. It would go right to his head.

His black suit molds to his body, conveying power and control—not just physically, but mentally, and perhaps spiritually, as the effect he has on me when I’m near him would suggest.

I step out and lock the door, and when I turn around, we’re almost chest to chest, which makes my body hum with awareness.

Then, he holds up a rose and I remember why I’m so irritated with him and his lies and why I still need to keep these feelings locked up tight.

“I don’t want that.”

“Neither do I. Who the fuck is putting roses on your porch?”

I raise a brow. “Don’t act like you haven’t been doing it. Your silly little game is over.”

“I haven’t put anything on your porch besides those gift boxes.”

“You sure?”

“I remember you saying cutting a rose from the bush where it was born was like killing it.”

My head tilts as I regard him. “You remember that? I said that forever ago.”

“I remember everything. Now, who?”

“I-I don’t know,” I say, my voice wavering as I take a deep, shaky breath. The thought of Gage leaving roses pissed me off because that meant he was following my every move. But now I’m creeped out because someone I don’t know is following me. “It started weeks ago.”

“Just here?”

“No, on my car or Jenna’s when we would be out together,” I say as I bite my lip. “But it could be someone bothering her. She works as a bartender at a strip club. I’ll ask her about it.”

Gage looks around. He has a white-knuckle grip on the rose stem.

“I thought we were going out to eat,” I say, hoping to derail whatever murderous plot he has running through his head.

He glances back at me with a huge grin before grabbing my hand. “Then let’s go.”

The car ride is silent aside from the low music in the background. I steal a glance at Gage as he drives, obviously lost in thought.

Something is intriguing about his nose—a slight upturn at the tip, contrasting with a subtle bump on the bridge that suggests a history of many injuries.

His lips are fuller than I recall, and I can confirm they possess a softness matching their appearance.

His beard has grown in the past few days, giving him a more rugged appearance, which contrasts with his polished suit.

My attention shifts to his firm grip on the steering wheel.

Even through his tattoos, the bulging veins in his hand are visible.

I lick my extremely dry lips and blow out a breath.

“Like what you see?”

“What?” I murmur as I lift my gaze.

He keeps his eyes on the road, but his grin is huge.

“You heard me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, averting my eyes to the road ahead.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Whatever.” I move my hand to the volume of the radio and turn it up loud enough to drown out his laughter.

The moment I hear the beginning beat, my head whips to him. “This song is so old. I haven’t heard it in forever.” One song drowns into the next, all old and from our teens. “You know, there are new songs out there.”

Gage stays quiet for a minute before his eyes reach mine. “When I went in, time stood still for a while. These songs represent good memories, and I guess I’ve held onto them. Don’t get me wrong, I got to listen to music in there, but the new stuff is complete shit and doesn’t hit the same.”

My heart aches as I hear his words. I’ve been so lost in the bitter taste of his betrayal that I overlooked the long years his life was at a standstill. He missed out on so much and will never get that time back.

Before I know it, we pull up to the valet of a restaurant I’ve never been to. I step out, and Gage rests his hand on the small of my back as we walk through the front doors. It isn’t lost on me how good his hand feels as he guides me to a secluded circular booth far into the restaurant.

As I scoot in, I survey my surroundings.

The inside of the restaurant is dark and moody.

Not like at the club, but dark in a Victorian Gothic aesthetic.

Intricate pointed arches are at every booth entrance.

Each arch has delicate carvings. Black is the most prevalent color on the walls, floors, booths, and tables.

A gold chandelier sits high over our table with dozens of real candles to light our meal.

“Wow. This place is beautiful.”

“Just like you,” Gage whispers in my ear.

My head snaps his way as I lean back. “Why are you so close?”

His only answer is a smirk as he leans closer to me.

“Good evening, Mr. Moretti and...” I straighten as I gaze at a server in his mid-fifties.

“Mrs. Moretti.” My head whips back to Gage as his hand rests on my thigh and gives it a little squeeze, halting my objection.

“Oh, my apologies. Congratulations, sir.”

“Thank you,” Gage says with a huge smile even though I’m shooting him daggers with my eyes and failing to wrench his hand from my lap.

“What can I get for you tonight?”

“We will have the three course. All sauces on the side, please.”

“Right away, sir,” the server says before bowing and walking away.

“Why did you order for me? What if I don’t like it?”

“Steak because it’s your favorite. Sauces on the side since you’re weird about them.”

“You’re... intense,” I say, at a loss for words.

I wonder if it will always be like this, with him taking the lead at every turn. I’m uncertain whether I despise it, or worse, enjoy it.

“You smell good.”

“Thanks,” I say as I try to scoot away from him.

His grip locks on my thigh. “Why do you have to make everything so fucking difficult? Just sit next to me, please.”

“We thought that was you.” I glance up and see Mr. Gualtieri and Mr. Baccalieri, two of my father’s three associates.

Like my dad, they’re also retiring. It’s a weird tradition.

There are five families, Moretti being the boss at the top of the pyramid, Rossi, Gualtieri, Baccalieri, and Lombardi being the respective capos.

When the last heir becomes of age at twenty, a transition of power takes place.

The parents retire and make way for the younger generation to step up, which is us.

There is no ambiguity in the rules; they are straightforward and nonnegotiable.

We must have arranged marriages between the families for strength and alliance, and we must have children simultaneously, ensuring our offspring grow up together and form a bond.

We then relinquish control and let them lead the way.

Usually, you hear about a head dying and someone taking over, but not in our pillar of the Italian Mafia. Its intention is to maintain peace by discouraging individuals from engaging in a power-hungry struggle for wealth and influence.

The thought of Gage and me having to uphold said tradition has me glancing over at him with trepidation.

Children will be expected, and soon. I don’t know how I feel about that.

Though I’ve always dreamed of having a large, loving family.

And I’m sure Gage would be a wonderful, nurturing father, just like my dad.

“It’s nice to see you, gentlemen,” Gage says as he stands to shake their hands. “I spoke with Manuel, Tony, and Rocco today. Everything’s looking good.”

The thought of their sons makes me wince.

With no rules to govern their actions as children, chaos and destruction became their primary interests whenever we all got together.

From them lighting my playhouse on fire to taking my dad’s Maclaren on a joyride—and I’m sure that’s not even the worst of it.

Since I last saw them, I doubt they’ve transformed into anything other than monstrous beings.

It’s going to be painful working in such proximity, especially since Gage, Marco, Rosie, and I never bonded with them like we were supposed to.

The clash of power and dominance was always present, making it clear they considered themselves superior.

However, Gage and Marco will always be superior and rein over them.

It’s just the way it is and will always be.

“Yes, we heard about the fat that was trimmed. I had my doubts, but I think you’ll be a fine leader,” Mr. Gualtieri mutters. It takes a minute to realize the fat he’s talking about is Gage’s father. Gross.

“It serves as a reminder to those who cross me, blood or not,” Gage says with a hard edge. The warning’s clear in his words. He doesn’t give a fuck who you are. He will take you down if need be.

They say goodbye to Gage and take their leave without even acknowledging my presence. They are one of many who aren’t happy about me taking my dad’s position. The thought leaves me with a mix of anxiety and irritation.

“I’m not looking forward to working with their sons.”

“You have nothing to worry about,” Gage says with a confidence I wished I possessed.

I bump my shoulder against his with a small grin. “Do you remember giving Tony a black eye for trying to cut my hair?”

His eyes light up. “How can I forget? He was shocked as hell when I tackled him. They always thought I was a pushover because I was quiet. It was nice to finally reveal a piece of my true self.”

“Is this your true self?” I ask as I gesture at him.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re dark, demanding, and kind of crazy.”

He grins but ignores my assessment of him.

“You’ll get the respect you deserve. I won’t tolerate anything less.”

I wish I shared his optimism.

“What if I can’t... do it?” I whisper. “The hard stuff.”

Gage’s eyes soften as he looks at me. His eyes drift to my hand in my lap, and he puts his hand on top of mine before lacing our fingers together and gazing back up at me.

It’s strange. I’ve never been overly fond of touch.

I’m more of an acts of service type, but I can’t deny the way his touch has always comforted me in the way my body needs.

“We are one, Lex. I’m your safe place, and you are mine. We strengthen each other, and together, there is nothing we can’t do.”

With each word he speaks, and the conviction in his eyes, my doubts fade away, and my heart races in response.

He squeezes my hand, his touch firm and reassuring, before gently pressing his forehead against mine.

The moment our skin touches, the clatter of plates and murmur of conversations in the restaurant fades into blissful silence.

All that remains is Gage’s warm skin, his intense eyes, and our lips a whisper length apart.

I’m torn, as I always am with him. If I initiate this, if I lean in and touch his lips to mine, there’s no going back. This will be me forgiving and forgetting.

Gage’s phone rings, and we both break apart.

“Fuck,” Gage mutters as he answers his phone.

His face twists from a slight frown of irritation into a mask of furious rage in mere seconds.

“I’m on my way.” He gazes at me with regret. “We have to go.”

“Why?”

“Problem at the club.”

“Me getting interrupted at a restaurant is becoming a regular thing. I don’t like it,” I say as he grabs my hand and pulls me out of the booth. “Don’t we need to tell them or pay? I’m sure they made some of the food.”

“They’ll put it on my tab,” he says as we make our way to the entrance.

“So you have a habit of bringing dates here?” I say with displeasure in my tone and my heart heavy at the thought. I try for sarcastic and pissy, but I’m sure the jealousy clearly shows.

“We own the restaurant, and I’ve never been on a date besides with you. But I love how jealous you are at the thought of another girl with me. Careful, Lex. You’re starting to show you really care.” He closes my car door with a smirk.