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ALESSANDRO

“ I 'm not wearing them.”

“You damn well better!” Adriano shouts from the other room.

“The hat’s bad enough, but the glasses? I look like the fucking nutty professor.”

Adriano glances in, giving me that sly look like he's about to crack a joke, eyeing my waistline.

“Not that one, you jackass. The old one that Uncle G made us watch.”

“I don't know, Alessandro. I think it makes you look almost intelligent.”

“Oh, gee, thanks because that's what I'm going for. I want to look real smart. Like your smart ass.”

Adriano chuckles, throwing on his jacket and heading for the door. He knows I’ll put up a fight, but ultimately he’ll win this argument. There’s no leaving the lodge unless I’m disguised to his satisfaction.

“Nobody in the village has seen one of our immediate family for twenty fucking years, Adriano.”

“Doesn’t matter. We can’t risk anyone knowing you’re here. It’s the only location no one inside or outside of the family knows about.”

“I’m sure there are hit men waiting right outside as we speak.”

“Throw a tantrum, fight it all you want. If you or I get made we’re fucked. News could get back to Dom or whoever is making a play on our turf and this is all for nothing.”

He’s right, of course.

“Melodramatic prima donna.”

“Unbearable man-child brat.”

“I’m seven years older than you.”

“Then act like it.”

“I’m only wearing this because I’m dying for a drink and bite to eat out somewhere.” Not that we don’t have an amazing cook at the lodge. Carla is incredible.

But I want to get out .

“Nothing fancy,” Adriano asserts as we bump down the mountain road toward the town.

“Hell no. I want some pub food and a beer or six.” My mouth is watering at the prospect of crap food and getting hammered.

“I saw a place like that on our way in.”

“Always lookin’ out. That’s why I keep you around.”

Our conversion drifts to silence as he takes the zigzagging turns that take us down the mountain. It’s a short drive, but treacherous even on a clear day, and today the wind is picking up.

“Looks like snow,” I murmur as we get out of the SUV in front of a quaint, mountain chalet-style pub.

“A little out of season this late. But the forecast says it could turn into a full-blown whiteout.”

“Great. I’ll just hibernate up in my den,” I grumble. The idea of days with nothing but free time feels oddly daunting. Most people would jump at the chance, but I haven’t had a real day off in years.

A few drinks later, I’m far less concerned, leaning back in my chair and laughing. The calzones and a glass of wine were just what I needed to feel warm, relaxed. Not thinking about our situation.

I’m even less worried by my fifth beer.

“Tha’s what I needed,” I declare, slamming my mug down. “Fucking stressful, lately, you know?”

“You don’t say? It’s definitely starting to show…all that gray at your temples.” Adriano runs his hand through his hair, the dark mess not showing a hint of change.

“What gray?! You shut your fucking mouth, little brother.” I point at him, glaring.

“Don’t worry, you only look a few years over forty.”

“I’ll show you forty! I’m thirty-nine, asshole.” I hop up striding toward the pool table. “You sound just like Ciro, always busting my ass, trying to get me riled.”

“Ciro wishes he was as funny as me. And maybe it’s for your own good. You’re too wound up. You barely let loose anymore.”

Like he has room to talk. Adriano is more business-minded than any of us.

“You are not wrong there. As always, you are the wise old seer of my court, Adri.”

He frowns at my comparison. And the nickname.

“Come on, stregone ! Show me your magic. Bet you can’t beat me.” He also hates when I call him that.

“I am going to teach you a lesson, and then I’m going to kick your sorry ass back to the lodge.”

I can tell he’s a little buzzed, showing just a hint of irritation. As much as he ever does.

He takes everything in stride most of the time.

“Oh wise Adriano, tell me what we will do to keep from going completely fucking nuts in the lodge for the next few weeks?” I rack the balls, choose a pool cue.

“I've got plenty to do. Reading, music. The lodge has a gym, too.” Adriano’s one of those guys who looks fit, until he takes his shirt off. Then he looks like fucking superhero movie.

“Good point. Seems like we never have enough time back home.”

“Exactly. I’m going to do some things that I never have time for because I'm always babysitting.” Adriano breaks, sinking two stripes.

“Speaking of the twins…how do you think they’re doing?”

“You need to give them a little more credit. They’re smarter than they let on.”

“I’ll give them more credit when they stop burning down nightclubs and getting arrested for public intoxication.” I take a shot, missing horribly.

“Says the guy who used to get wasted and fist fight for cash down at the docks.”

“That was only five or six times.” That he knows about. Dom and I must have fought half the city’s muscle over the years for a buck.

“It’s your own damn fault they keep doing it. You bought the first three nightclubs they trashed.”

“Better than dealing with the cops. But you’re right. I indulged them too much. Too bad they couldn’t join us up here.”

“Can you imagine the four of us cooped up for a week?”

“I think I’d murder the lot of you.”

A chuckle finds its way out, a real grin spreading on my face. I haven’t spent time with Adriano like this in so long.

Of course, three games in, I’m losing badly and cussing up a storm. “When did you get so fucking good?”

“You’re just out of practice.” Adriano shrugs, taking another shot of whiskey.

“I need another beer, then I’ll kick your ass.” I head toward the bar. More folks come in as I wait for my order, some shaking off fresh snowflakes from their coats. Wind rips in every time the door opens, frosty and bitter.

“Just my fucking luck. It has to start tonight, huh?”

“Supposed to go all night, maybe longer. You have a place to stay?” the bartender asks as he slides me my drink. “We have rooms upstairs.”

“Yeah. No, we’re up the mountain,” I answer offhandedly, leaning my arms on the worn wood bar.

He gives me a look of disbelief before setting down my drink and moving on.

Oh yeah. Nobody’s been there in years.

Except the staff that lives here in town most of the time. They’ve worked for my family for generations. And they’re sworn to secrecy about all of it. Can’t beat that kind of loyalty.

An older woman passes me on her way out with her husband. “You boys be careful tonight. Temperature’s dropping.”

She pats me on the back like she knows me, like I’ve lived here my entire life. That’s just Italy and small towns.

It’s charming.

Or I’m just too drunk to mind.

So many of our elders grew up here or have stories about it. It’s my culture.

And it’s nice not to be recognized as a powerful leader of a worldwide organization for a change.

“What are the odds that we get stuck at the lodge?” I ask Adriano, settling back down at our table.

“Hard to say. But we should head back pretty soon. Once I’m sober enough to drive, that is.”

“This place. It’s so laid back. Have you heard a single bit of news about us, the family, anything about our lives since we got here?”

“No. That’s a good thing. This is as removed from our world as it gets.”

Before long, it’s just the two of us, alone in the pool table room. Adriano usually waits for me bring up touchy subjects, but we’re drinking. It’s just the two of us.

“What do you think Domenico is trying to pull?” he asks.

“Knowing Dom? He wants it all. He's gonna try to take us for everything.”

“You really think so? I thought family would be worth more to him than that.”

“He's always been this way, impulsive. If he’s got it in his head that he wants what's mine, he's gonna do everything in his power to take it away from me.”

“I just find it hard to believe that he would turn on us like that.”

“I don't. Not after what happened. I was given his birthright. After everything the boss put us through, after all the hard work he did to prove himself. Giancarlo just pulled the rug out from under him. He took it too well at the time. Made me nervous.”

“Why did he put up with it at all?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he thought he’d try to play ball. Realized he couldn’t. If I could talk to him…” I take my shot, letting my thoughts wander.

“We could always try to send him a message,” Adriano offers.

“No. The only message that we're going to send him will be a bullet through the brain. He’s gone too far. He killed our uncle for fuck’s sake.”

“I say we sic the twins on him.” Adriano grins uncharacteristically.

I throw my head back, laughing. I'm buzzed enough that it gets to me. “Yeah, just let them annoy him to death. They come up with anything so far?”

“Ero will root him out. So far, though, nothing. It’s like chasing a ghost.”

“Like I said, when Dom wants to do something, when he puts his mind to it, there's nothing in the whole world that can stop him.”

Except for me. And I am going to stop him.

For now, we bide our time.

And before I know what I'm doing, I'm ordering us two more rounds of shots. The night blurs on, getting hazy. We play darts, another round of pool, challenge a couple of tourists to a card game and drink them under the table.

Feels like a life I was never allowed to have. Low stakes. No tomorrow.

Adriano starts to get antsy near closing time. We should have left hours ago, but he wanted me to have a good time. And boy, did I.

“Hurry up and piss, then put your disguise back on.”

I give him a shaky thumbs up as I cram my hat back on and stumble toward the head. The guy in the mirror looking back at me as I wash my hands is barely recognizable. No suit. Disheveled hair and three days of stubble.

The glasses really do make me look smart. Ha!

Stepping into the cramped hallway I almost run into someone, excusing myself before I get a good look at her. When I do, it stops me dead.

Long, silky black curls fall to the middle of her back. Her skin is that perfect shade of ivory, and her cheeks flush as she looks up at me.

Instantly, I’m transported back in time twenty years.

Standing on a rooftop in Florence, taking a knee. Asking Catalina to make me the happiest man in the world. Of course, it’s not her, and I’m fucking drunk.

But man, is this girl a stunner…

“Sorry,” I mumble, stepping out of her way. She nods, continuing out to the bar.

Then she flicks me a look over her shoulder like she can see right through me, right into my fucking soul.

Our eyes lock.

And I realize how hard my dick is, my whole body tight and clenched. I can't tell if she's looking at me like she wants to tell me to fuck off or ask me for a romp in the bathroom. Both?

Faint guilt rises up at the thought. I look away before I can do something stupid.

Out in the taproom, Adriano's waiting by the door.

“Did you see that girl?”

“The one who looked like she wanted to tear you a new one?”

“Yeah. That one. Does she look out of place to you?”

“There’s pretty girls in every town, Aless. Keep it in your pants.” He chuckles, offering me an arm as I miss a step on the way out.

“I can walk on my own,” I slur.

“Sure. Let's see how that works out. I’d love to see you face-plant out here in the snow.”

“Damn…where’d all this snow come from?” It looks like Christmastime outside.

And the car is completely covered.

After a finger-numbing few minutes of scraping, we’re on our way. The drive is tense, slow going. It takes us twice as long to get up the mountain. But Adriano keeps us safe, so much so that I doze off a few times.

The staff’s asleep when we arrive.

I manage to only make half a ruckus, crashing into the entryway table and knocking a pot over. Adriano is doubled over, silently laughing his ass off all the way to his room in the east wing.

The drive and the winter chill got me amped up. My body feels restless, so I head to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of wine, some cheese and bread and head back to the den to sit by the fire.

An hour slips by and my eyes are drooping, fading.

Images of the woman at the bar flit through my head, snapping me back awake. Who was she? Probably some tourist. She'll likely be gone by the time I head back to the village.

“Go to bed, Aless,” I mumble, dragging myself up.

I’m crossing the foyer when I hear something, a bump at the door.

Pausing, I wait, then it comes again, louder.

Then again. Definitely knocking.

Who the fuck would be knocking on our door at 4:00 a.m.?

In the middle of the mountains. In the middle of a blizzard.

Grabbing a shard of the broken pot on the floor as a weapon, I creep toward the door, every muscle poised and ready to strike. At least, as well as I can with enough booze in me to knock out a horse.

The house tips slightly as I reach for the frame.

One more knock bangs against the wood, startling me. I yank it open a crack.

And there she is.

Standing on our porch with her arms wrapped around herself, shivering.

The beauty from the bar.