Page 19

Evan

After the night at Becky’s Barbeque, Luca avoids me the next two days. If I do happen to see him at the arena, he ignores me like I don’t exist. I’m still not sure what to make of his announcement that he’d been more worried about me than himself the other night. He tried to take it back, but he’d seemed so embarrassed, it made me wonder if there wasn’t some truth to what he’d said. I don’t kid myself that Luca has actual feelings for me. But he does like me sexually. Perhaps he’d been worried he wouldn’t get to fuck me again if I got myself killed.

On the third day, I return to Luca’s after a late day practice, feeling antsy. I don’t have enough to keep me occupied. At my apartment, I’d have my books and TV to amuse me. Sometimes Noah and I would get together and shoot some hoops. But Luca’s mansion is too far away from town to make spur of the moment get-togethers practical.

With a tired sigh I go to the window and stare down at the grounds. The land where the mansion sits is beautiful. Twilight settles over the rose garden, and beyond that, old oaks stand as darker sentinels. The manicured lawn stretches for what must be acres, silver-blue in the evening light, eventually disappearing into the deeper shadows of a distant tree line. I’d love to go outside for a walk, but I hesitate. Am I allowed to wander the grounds, or would the guards or dogs bother me?

If I leave the house, I’d probably need someone with me. Is Luca home right now? If I asked him to go for a walk with me, would he? Or would be tell me he’s too busy? I grimace at the thought I’d even want to go for a walk with Luca. That isn’t the kind of relationship we have. To be honest, we have no actual relationship. This is more of a hostage situation than anything.

There’s a knock on my door and my pulse speeds up. When the door opens, I expect to see Luca, but it’s Isabella. I’m surprised to feel a twinge of disappointment. Was I actually hoping it was Luca? Is my cabin fever so severe that I’d welcome a visit from him?

“Hello again,” Isabella says, smiling at me when she spies me by the window. She’s dressed in a blue sundress and her dark, curly hair tumbles around her slender shoulders. She approaches, her gaze curious. “Do you remember me?”

“Of course.” I smile tentatively at her. Her energy is the opposite of Luca’s. She’s warm and open, whereas he’s guarded and broody most of the time.

“I was thinking perhaps you’d join the family for dinner tonight?”

I’m shocked at the invitation. “Is that okay with Luca?” Luca has made it a point to keep me separated from his family. Has he changed his mind?

Her grin is mischievous. “Luca isn’t here. He’s in Italy.”

“Is he?” I feel strangely let down at that news. Why would I be disappointed he’s nowhere nearby? Shouldn’t I be rejoicing?

“Yep.” She shrugs. “So he has no say in whether you eat with us or not. It’s high time you met the rest of the family. Luca has been far too controlling where you’re concerned.”

“He may not want me to mingle with you guys,” I say. “He didn’t seem thrilled about the idea before.”

She sighs. “You can’t just sit in this room forever. Mama wants to meet you, and my brother Tony too. We’re dying of curiosity about you.”

My face warms. “Are you?”

“Yes. I mean, you’re a professional hockey player. We’ve never met one before.” She moves closer. “If you’re worried about letting things slip, we already know the situation. You don’t have to worry about spilling the beans. Luca told us what’s going on.”

I’m not sure I believe her. She may think she has the real story, but does she? Would Luca actually admit that he blackmailed me into being his lover? Or are they as immoral as he is and see nothing wrong with that? They are all part of the Barone syndicate after all.

She laughs at my dubious expression. “I’m serious. We know everything. We know you refused to throw the game against Chicago and almost got yourself killed.”

“Oh.” My face warms.

“We know he brought you here for safekeeping.” She bites her bottom lip. “It’s very interesting that he do that. He doesn’t usually go out of his way to protect strangers. Luca has the ability to shut off his feelings. It’s a little scary, if I’m honest,” she murmurs. “But here you are.”

“It must be odd to have me here. I’m sorry if I’m creating problems for your family.”

She laughs. “Problems are an everyday occurrence when you’re a Barone. I’m glad you’re here. It gets pretty boring around here sometimes. Please have dinner with us.”

I’m tempted. While this bedroom is nice and all, it’s beginning to feel like a prison.

“It’s just dinner,” she coaxes.

I hesitate. “Are you sure the rest of your family doesn’t mind if I join you?”

“Mind?” She laughs. “They’re the ones who sent me up here to get you. Mama told me not to take no for an answer.”

“Oh.” I smile weakly.

“We usually eat in the kitchen, but Mama set the table in the formal dining room just for this dinner.” She clasps her hands. “Please join us. It’ll be fun. Then you can come right back here if you want, okay? I won’t even nag you to take a walk in the garden with me or anything like that.” She brightens. “Unless you want to?”

I laugh because I get the feeling Isabella just says whatever she’s thinking. She’s charming in a sweet, goofy way. “I guess I could eat with you guys. It’s nice of you to invite me. It actually would be nice to do something other than read or stare at the ceiling.”

“We should get you a TV.” She frowns. “I can’t believe Luca hasn’t thought of that.”

“I’m not here that much.”

“Still.” She sighs. “Luca should be a better host.”

Is he my host or my warden?

I glance down at my jeans. “Should I change?”

She waves her hand at me, her gaze admiring. “No, you look great just the way you are.”

I run my hand over the back of my neck, feeling nervous about meeting Luca’s mother and brother. I suspect Isabella notices my nerves because she approaches and slips her arm through mine.

“Come along. We don’t want the food to get cold.”

“No, we wouldn’t want that,” I mutter, allowing her to lead me to the door. I’m not sure this is a great idea, but Isabella is a force not easily ignored.

Isabella chatters away about a tennis lesson she had earlier in the day as we descend the wide staircase. She leads me through wide open rooms with leather furniture and murals of Italy on the walls, until we reach the formal dining room.

The room stretches beneath a crystal chandelier, its light casting warm patterns across a table that could seat twenty but is set intimately for four. The tablecloth is crisp white linen, the place settings a mix of antique silver and delicate china. Fresh flowers that appear to be white roses and something that smells like jasmine, spill from an orange and yellow Murano glass vase at the center.

A sophisticated looking woman, who I assume is Luca’s mother, presides at the head of the table. She’s elegant in a white silk blouse and pearls. A muscular man with a shaved head and tattoos sits beside her. His gaze tracks me as I enter the room with his sister.

Isabella takes the chair across from her brother, next to her mother and points to the seat beside her. “Sit next to me, Evan.”

Since she’s the only person I know, I’m happy to sit beside her. I pull out the heavy chair and slid into it, conscious of Mrs. Barone and Tony’s gaze. When I look up, Mrs. Barone smiles at me. Her gaze is sharp, but not unfriendly.

“I’m Sofia Barone,” she says. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Evan. Luca kept you from us for far too long.”

“It’s nice to meet you too,” I say politely.

Tony stands and reaches across the wide table. “I’m Tony Barone, Luca’s younger brother.” His gaze is assessing and his grip painfully tight. He looks nothing like his brother with his shaved head and tattoos.

I force a smile. “Nice to meet you.”

Sofia gestures to the bottle of cabernet on the table. “Would you like some wine?”

Isabella laughs and jumps up to grab the bottle. “Of course he wants wine. We all want wine, Mama.” She proceeds to circle our end of the table, pouring the cabernet into crystal stemmed wine glasses.

“So, I understand you play hockey professionally?” Sofia asks, clasping her hands on top of the table. She looks relaxed. As Luca’s mother, I’m sure she’s used to hosting dinner parties for all sorts of people.

“I do.” I have no idea if she thinks playing hockey is a respectable job or not. But then again, her son is a mob boss, so maybe respectable doesn’t rate that highly for her.

“I’ve never met a professional hockey player before,” Tony says. “How long have you been playing?”

“Since I was ten,” I reply. “Started on frozen ponds in Minnesota.”

Sofia tilts her head, studying me with those sharp eyes that remind me too much of her son. “Minnesota. Hockey is big there?”

“It’s said kid’s come out of the womb with hockey skates on,” I joke. “Every kid either plays or skates. Our neighborhood had a backyard rink on every block in winter.”

“You must be very good. I heard you’re the captain of your team. How does one become the captain?” Sofia looks sincerely interested.

Tony smirks. “Do you slip the coach a few bills to get the position?”

I frown. “Uh, no it doesn’t work like that. The coach usually chooses. Sometimes the team votes.” I take a sip of wine to calm my nerves because their stares are so intense. “For me, it happened after our previous captain retired. Coach Baker pulled me aside after practice three years ago and just... handed me the C.”

“The C?” Isabella asks.

“The letter on my jersey. Captains wear a C, alternate captains wear an A.”

Tony frowns. “What’s the difference?”

“Captain speaks to officials, represents the team. Has more responsibilities off-ice too.”

“Like what?” Isabella asks.

I laugh because their rabid curiosity has taken me by surprise. “Well, uh, I help deal with management and media. I make sure the team works together and handle problems in the locker room.” I pause. “I also do my best to be an example and protect younger players.” I don’t bother adding, “From people like your son.”

“Ah.” Sofia nods as if I’ve confirmed something. “You’re a leader, then. How long have you been with the Ice Hawks?”

“Five years. I joined right out of juniors.” At her blank expression, I add, “That’s the league before pro.”

Isabella wrinkles her brow. “Luca mentioned something about playoffs. What are those?”

“They’re kind of what hockey players live for. We’re fighting for a spot now. Eight teams make it from each conference. We’re currently sitting in the last position.”

“Oh, no.” Isabella widens her eyes.

I smile. “It’s okay. There’s still time to get there. We just moved up a spot because we won the game against Chicago.”

Tony leans forward, elbows on the table. “Ah, yes. The Chicago game that shall go down in infamy.”

I grimace, but don’t address the snarky comment. “Anyway, if we manage to get in the playoffs it goes to single elimination. If we win sixteen games, we win the Stanley Cup.”

“You’ve won this cup before?” Sofia asks.

I shake my head. “Never even made the playoffs. Last year, we missed it by a single point.”

“And that meant you were out?” Isabella scowls. “That seems completely unfair.”

I smile. “In the NHL playoffs, teams play what’s called a best-of-seven series. That means two teams can play each other up to seven times, and the first team to win four games moves on.”

They still look a little unsure, so I keep going.

“Like, if Team A wins four games and Team B only wins two, Team A advances because they hit four wins first.”

“Oh, I get it.” Tony nods.

Sofia raises her brows. “I don’t. It’s a very complicated system.”

“I agree.” Isabella sighs. “How in the world do you keep it all straight?”

I give a patient smile. “It makes sense if you’ve been playing hockey a long time.”

Sofia remarks. “And hockey is what you’ve always wanted to do? Since you were a kid in Minnesota?”

I laugh sheepishly. “Yeah. Never really considered anything else. Hockey was... is... everything.”

“Hmm.” Sofia’s gaze is difficult to read.

“What did you think of Luca buying your team?” Tony asks. “I’ll bet that shocked the heck out of you guys.”

I grimace. “We knew the team was for sale, so it wasn’t a complete surprise.”

“Did you know who Luca was when you met him?” Tony lifts one brow.

“No.” When I think of Luca that first night, it’s feels like a million years ago, and he feels like a different man. “I was… surprised when he told me who he was and what he wanted to do with our team.”

“I’ll bet.” Tony smirks. “You really blew up his big plans when you refused to throw that game against Chicago. He was livid.”

I noticed.

“Yeah.” I meet his dark gaze. “Despite that, I don’t regret not turning on my team.”

Sofia purses her lips, studying me. “I’m sure it was a difficult decision. Either choice you made would cost you something.”

I nod, surprised she sounds almost sympathetic to what I went through. “I made the choice that I hoped would cost me the least.”

Tony frowns. “But, from what I heard Luca was ready to have you murdered because of that choice. That was fine with you?”

My stomach clenches remembering that awful night. “Obviously I didn’t want to die. I just knew I couldn’t betray my team for money.”

Tony’s pitying expression makes it clear he thinks I acted foolishly, but Sofia nods as if she understands.

Isabella says brightly, “I love that you refused to do Luca’s bidding. What kind of person turns on their own team?”

Tony chuffs. “That stuff happens all the time. It’s nothing new for players to throw games to line their own pockets. Betrayal is a part of life.”

I meet Tony’s gaze. “Even if that’s true, my team is like my family. Would you betray your family?”

A flush creeps up Tony’s fleshy cheeks. “No. Never.”

“Well,” I say softly, “Neither would I.”

Isabella nudges me with her elbow. “This is exactly why I don’t like to date mafia types. They have no sense of honor.”

“What?” Tony bugs his eyes. “The La Cosa Nostra is all about honor.”

“Oh, really?” She sniffs. “If that were true, you’d respect Evan’s decision not to turn on his team.”

“That’s fine,” I say quickly. I don’t want them bickering because of me. “I did what I felt was right. Not everyone will see it my way.”

Tony laughs loudly. “Luca sure didn’t.”

“No, he didn’t,” I murmur.

Sofia’s astute gaze settles on me. “Your decision not to throw that game put Luca in a very difficult position.”

“No worse than the one he put me in.”

Her lips twitch. “I suppose that’s true.”

Isabella pours herself some more wine. “I love Luca dearly, but it’s good that you stood up to him. Nobody should get their way all the time.”

Tony snorts. “That’s rich coming from you, Isabella. You’re the most spoiled of us all.”

Isabella scowls, a rosy pink dusting her cheeks. “That’s not true.”

“Oh, no?” Tony shakes his head. “When do we ever tell you no?”

Her scowl slowly changes to an impish smile. “Hardly ever, and I love it.”

Sofia and Tony both laugh, and I find myself fascinated by their family dynamic. I’ve always had this image in my mind of what a mafia family might look like. Usually, Luca fits the bill nicely, with his cold brooding glances and threats. But when I saw him with Isabella, he was suddenly just the doting big brother.

Nobody is all good or all bad. People are a mixture of both.

Perhaps Luca is right. It’s obvious this family loves each other. The horrible things they do are very real, but this side of them is also just as real. The Luca I met that first night was warm and charming. That was real. But the jerk he became the next day was too. The Barones aren’t all good or all bad. They’re a mixture.

The conversation pauses when a woman in a white chef coat enters the room, carrying two plates. She sets them down on the table and gives me a curious look. I smile politely, but she doesn’t reciprocate. Instead she gestures to the hand-painted plates. “The appetizer tonight is paper-thin prosciutto, fresh figs drizzled with honey, and fresh buffalo mozzarella.”

“Thank you, Giulia. It looks wonderful,” Sofia says.

“Ooh, you have to try this, Evan.” Isabella scoops some of the food onto my plate. “This buffalo mozzarella tastes so much better than anything you’ll ever find in the store.”

I’m starving and only too happy to try anything. I take a bite and almost moan as the delicious flavors bathe my tongue. She’s right, the mozzarella is delicious and it pairs with the figs and prosciutto perfectly. Because I’m on edge, I drink my wine quicker than I probably should. But I can’t say I mind the warmth that spreads through me because of it.

“How long will Luca be in Italy?” Sofia asks Tony.

Tony sets his fork down, squinting at the light fixture overhead. “I believe he said he’d be gone a few more days.”

“Did he go to Italy for a vacation?” I ask.

My question has all three of them falling silent.

There’s obvious strain on Sofia’s face as she forces a smile. “Unfortunately, no. A high-ranking member of the La Fratellanza Italiana syndicate, Don Fabrizio DeLuca, has been assassinated.”

“Oh, God.” I wince.

Tony rubs his shaved head, frowning. “DeLuca was a key figure who controlled the regions around Naples and held sway over shipping routes along the Amalfi Coast. His death has left a power vacuum. That’s always dangerous.”

“I wish Luca would let one of his captain’s handle that situation.” Isabella gnaws her bottom lip. “It’s too volatile for Luca to be there.”

Sofia gives her daughter a chiding glance. “He’s the head of our family, Tesoro. The other syndicates are looking to him for leadership. He can’t ignore the situation. That would make him look weak.”

Maybe it’s the wine loosening my tongue because I mutter, “He’s always so worried about looking weak.”

Turning to me, Sofia’s eyes are very serious. “Of course he is. Looking weak is the worst thing he could do. Not only would the other syndicates come for him, but his own men would turn on him.”

A chill shivers down my spine. “His own men?”

Tony chuffs. “Would you go into battle with a weak leader? Would you lay your life on the line for a leader who doesn’t know his own mind? There’s nothing worse than being perceived as weak in our world.”

Sofia nods, a proud tilt to her chin. “What’s happening over there right now has thrown things into turmoil. Multiple factions are now vying for control, and Luca’s support could determine who takes the reins next.”

“He holds that much power?” I blink at her, finding it hard to believe any of that is real. “This all sounds like a movie script.”

Isabella sighs. “It does, you’re right.”

“I can assure you,” Sofia’s voice is hard, “this is all very real for us.”

At that moment, Giulia returns with handmade tortellini in a clear broth. I’m glad of the interruption. It’s clear that Luca’s family is very worried for his safety, and knowing he’s in danger makes me feel conflicted. I don’t actively wish for his death, but I also don’t know if I want him to live.

Would all my problems disappear if he died? Or would I just be fair game with him gone? I swirl my spoon through the fragrant broth, feeling like a traitor to Luca’s family. They’re desperately worried for his safety, and I don’t even know if I want him dead or alive.

Isabella leans toward me. “The soup won’t eat itself, silly.”

I shake myself out of my stupor and take a spoonful. The broth is rich and delicious as it slides down my tight throat. Having dinner with the Barone’s was probably a mistake. I don’t want to feel sympathy for Luca. I don’t want to see him as a person. That makes it harder to stay distant.

Tony slurps his soup and once he’s swallowed, asks, “Do you have family in Seabrooke, Evan?”

“I do.” I set my spoon in my half empty soup bowl. “My mother and father live here. My brother is a town away, but it’s not that far.”

Isabella turns to me. “It’s important to have family around you, don’t you think?”

“Definitely.” I finger the stem of my wine glass, thinking about the strange agreement I’ve made with Luca. “I’d do anything for my family.”

“Me too.” Tony sighs, leaning back in his chair. With his thuggish appearance, he looks so different from the rest of the family, it’s hard to believe they’re related.

“Do you see your family often?” Sofia inquires, patting her mouth with her linen napkin.

I wrinkle my brow. “I don’t see my brother or father as often as I’d like. I try to see my mother every few weeks. If we have a lot of away games, it makes it harder.”

Isabella frowns. “Are your parents divorced?”

“No.” I feel a pang of sadness because, while my parents are still technically together, it’s almost like they’re divorced. Between Dad’s past drinking problem and Mom’s Alzheimer’s diagnosis, their marriage has taken a beating.

She looks puzzled. “But you said you don’t see your father often, but you see your mother every two weeks.”

I hesitate, wrestling with whether I want to tell them about my mother or not. Sometimes it’s nice to talk about her, but sometimes it depresses me. But before I can decide, Isabella makes a little sound and she places her hand on my arm.

“I just remembered your last name is Riley, correct?” she asks softly.

I nod, meeting her warm eyes.

“I overheard Luca talking to someone on the phone about a Catherine Riley at the Laurel Garden Memory Center, the day before he left on his trip. Is that your mother?”

I tense, surprised she connected the dots so easily. When I don’t speak, her gaze softens and she squeezes my arm. But then she goes back to eating her soup without another word. I’m not sure if I want to tell them about my mom. It’s painful and I’m uncertain if I want to be that vulnerable with them.

I glance up to find Sofia’s gaze on me. “My mother had Alzheimer’s,” she says quietly. Her slender throat moves as she swallows. “That’s a wonderful facility.”

She’s so forthcoming, I suddenly feel foolish for holding tight to my secrets. I clear my throat. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. My… uh… my mom also has Alzheimer’s.”

She gives me a sad little smile. “She’s in good hands. I know for a fact they’ll do all they can for your mother, just as they did for mine.”

My chest tightens as we hold each other’s gaze. The enormous stress of having a loved one suffer from that vile disease isn’t something everyone can grasp. But I recognize the pain and loss in Sofia’s eyes.

“She seems happy there,” I manage.

Once more Giulia arrives with food at the most opportune time. She sets a platter on the table with a grunt, and straightens. “Seared bass with fennel and herbs, accompanied by roasted baby potatoes with olive oil, garlic, and rosemary.”

“Sounds delicious,” Tony says, rubbing his hands together.

I don’t complain when Isabella fills my glass with some white wine. The alcohol eases my tension, which I welcome. I’m relieved when the conversation shifts from me to Isabella. When she announces she might have a date later in the week with someone named Enrico, Tony is hugely displeased with her choice. I listen to them bickering, and can’t help smiling. I like the normalcy of their good humored sparing. I crave normalcy right now. I feel completely untethered and not at all like myself.

For dessert, Giulia presents a crostata di ricotta for dessert along with tiny cups of espresso. The dessert is possibly the most delicious sweet I’ve ever tasted. The pastry shatters like glass, and the filling is smooth as silk.

They ask me some more questions about the hockey playoffs, and we discuss team dynamics and personalities. I’m happy to talk about hockey all day long, so that suits me fine. By the time the meal is over, I’m buzzed on the wine and my belly is full of good food.

When Sofia stands, signaling the end of dinner, I do the same. “Thanks for inviting me to eat with you,” I say. “It was nice learning more about your family, and also nice to see other parts of the house besides just my bedroom.”

Sofia’s frown creases her smooth forehead. “Now that we’ve met, and we know you’re not an axe murderer, please don’t feel like you have to stay in that room. Luca is being overly protective of us all.”

I grimace. “Are you sure? It must be awkward having me here.” It’s definitely awkward for me.

She shrugs. “From what my son has said you’ll be living here for the time being. It makes no sense for you to be relegated to your bedroom.” She pats my arm. “I want you to make yourself at home.”

“Then I will,” I say, although I can’t actually picture doing that.

“You should come down for breakfast tomorrow.” Isabella says.

Tony nods distractedly, looking at his phone. “Yeah, you should. It’s usually around 9:00 a.m. Isabella the princess likes to sleep in.”

She grins and bats her lashes. “That, I do.”

“I appreciate the invitation, but I’ll be at practice by then. We have a game on Saturday and Coach is putting us through every drill he can think of.”

“Another time then,” Sofia says smoothly. “Good night, Evan. It was a pleasure meeting you, finally.”

“Same.” I turn and head out of the dining room, but then I pause after going a few feet. I have no idea how to get back to my room.

Behind me, Isabella laughs. “Want to join my expedition? I’ll get you back safely.”

I laugh, still beautifully buzzed from the wine. “This house is huge.”

“It’s gigantic. Our great-grandfather went a little crazy when he built it. We each have our own wing so that we have privacy.” As she speaks, she leads the way down a hallway. “Luca’s wing has his master bedroom, several other bedrooms, you’re in the blue room. There’s also an office where he works, and he was nice enough to allow Mama to have her art studio at the end of his hallway. The natural light is best on that side of the house, so he caved.”

Ah, yes, I remember the art studio well .

I push thoughts of Luca and his warm mouth from my mind, and follow Isabella. She gives me a quick tour of the bottom floor, making a point of showing me where the kitchen and sunporch are. I do my best to remember landmarks, so that if I ever do want to join them for breakfast, I can do so without them having to send out a search party.

Once I’m back in my room, I strip down to my boxers and a T-shirt. The wine and big meal have made me tired, so I get into bed. Mostly I think about practice and the game on Saturday, but then my mind drifts to Luca.

It was weird seeing him through his family’s eyes tonight. I don’t want to feel soft toward him, but his family seems so normal, it’s hard not to feel less hostile. I think about the kiss we shared in his mother’s studio. Just thinking about his hungry mouth makes my dick hard. Luca has made no attempt to sleep with me since I moved in. Has he lost interest in me so soon? Or will he try to sleep with me when he returns from Italy?

If he returns from Italy.

When that chilling thought flutters through me, I’m surprised by how much it bothers me. From what his family said at dinner, Luca is in a position of authority while in Italy. His blessing can help someone become DeLuca’s replacement, but having that power can also make him a target. If Luca’s circumstances are as dangerous as his family worries, it’s possible I might never see him again.

I close my eyes and picture Luca dying. There’s a confusing hollow ache in the pit of my stomach at the thought of him gone forever. Even though I hate parts of Luca, from the moment I met him, I’ve felt drawn to him. Even after he told me who he was and what his plans were, I couldn’t completely erase my desire for him. My hunger for him is probably the worst part of this entire situation.

And also the most confusing.