Page 22

Luca

The Palazzo Grande’s ballroom balances opulence with taste, crystal chandeliers casting warm light over gold-leafed columns, arrangements of white roses and orchids strategically placed to impress without overwhelming. Mario Spongilla has transformed the space into a statement of both wealth and refinement for his only daughter’s wedding. Three hundred guests fill tables draped in silk, the ambient noise a blend of conversation, string quartet, and occasional laughter that rises above the general murmur.

Evan shifts beside me, the subtle adjustment of his shoulder against mine feels nice. I’m sure he’s only standing so close to me because he’s intimidated by the situation. But I still enjoy the warmth of his body. It’s been way too long since I’ve had a taste of him. That’s something I hope to rectify tonight. If things go well today, I fully intend on sleeping with him.

I won the bet about the suit. I knew I would, but Evan was definitely surprised when the tailored suit fit him perfectly. It accentuates his broad shoulders, narrow hips, and long muscular legs. The color is perfect on him too. The midnight blue fabric makes his eyes appear even greener than usual. There’s no denying he’s fucking hot. He’s got a lot of eyes on him today, and I’m proud to have him on my arm.

I grab two flutes of champagne from a waiter who passes by with a tray of bubbly. I hand one of the long stemmed glasses to Evan, and he accepts it happily. His hand trembles slightly as he takes a sip. I’m sure this is overwhelming for him. He’s used to crowds of people, but this is a very different vibe from a crowd of hockey fans.

I hold out my flute to make a toast. He hesitates, but then clinks his glass against mine. “To having a good day together,” I say smoothly.

“Yeah. We could use one.” He sips more champagne.

I study his tense face. “We need to replace some of the bad memories with good.”

“You think that’s possible?” He meets my gaze, appearing dubious. “After all the shit we’ve been through, I’m not sure I do.”

Not easily discouraged, I say, “Think about the first night we met. We got along great that night.”

He frowns. “I guess the good memories were eclipsed by the fact you tried to have me murdered.”

I sigh. “Are you still holding a grudge about that?”

“Well, yeah, you’re the first person who ever tried to kill me.” He gives a grudging smile. “That kind of thing sticks with a guy.”

“But I took it back. Now I’m your protector, remember? Doesn’t that mean just as much?”

He lets out a tired breath. “I don’t know. Maybe. I guess I figure it could go the other way all too easily again.”

Before I can respond, Mario, the father of the bride appears in front of us.

“Luca,” Mario booms, “You made it.” Mario is a burly man of about fifty, his hair is still thick and black, and his custom tuxedo hugs his aging boxer’s frame. He clasps my shoulders before kissing both cheeks. “I’m so pleased you could attend. I know how busy you are.”

“I’d never miss Angela’s wedding.” I smile. “She looks beautiful. So much like her mother.”

Sadness shifts through Mario’s eyes. “Yes, she truly reminds me of Emilia. If only she could have been here. She’d have been so proud of how Angela has turned out.”

Evan says softly, “She’s probably here in spirit.”

Mario turns his gaze on Evan. “That’s right. I need to remember that.” His smile is wistful. “She’s watching over us still.” His gaze sharpens as he studies Evan. “You’re the hockey player, right?”

Evan tenses. “That’s right.”

Mario shakes a finger at Evan. “You cost me a lot of money, young man.” While Mario is smiling, there’s a hint of resentment in his voice.

Evan winces, but stays silent.

I place my hand at the small of Evan’s back, reassuring him that he’s safe with me beside him. “Evan regrets what he did that night.” Evan stiffens at my words and I pray he has the brains not to blurt out that he regrets nothing. “But you can’t turn back time, right?”

“No, unfortunately, you can’t,” murmurs Mario.

I lean toward Mario and lower my voice. “I want you to know that the money you lost on that game will be coming back to you. I’ve decided to cover the losses from that game for my most trusted allies. I count you among that small, but special group.”

Mario’s face lights up. “Is that right?”

I incline my head. “Keep this between us though. I don’t want everyone coming to me for a handout.”

“Of course.” Mario laughs loudly and makes a zipping motion near his lips. He looks much happier now. “I appreciate it, Luca.”

“My pleasure. You’ve been there for me in the past, many times.”

Mario shrugs. “Loyalty to the Barone Syndicate is easy. Your father was a good friend to me and my family, having your back is the least I can do.”

A thin, harassed looking woman with a clipboard appears at Mario’s elbow. Her hair is jet black and thinning at the top, her white scalp visible. “Mr. Spongilla, I’m so sorry to bother you. We’ve gone through all the lobster risotto arancini. Did you want us to make more, or should we just let the guests eat whatever other hors d’oeuvres are left? We still have dinner coming after all.”

“Make more, woman,” Mario booms. “I don’t want my guests to starve.”

“No, of course n… not,” stammers the woman. “It’s just that the lobster risotto arancini is very pricy, and I didn’t feel right serving more without asking you.”

“We need to keep the guests happy.” Mario winks at me. “We’ll talk more later, Luca. It seems I need to handle a food emergency.”

“Later then.” I smile.

Mario puts his big arm around the woman’s scrawny shoulders and he leads her away.

I notice that Evan has drained his glass of champagne already. The stress must really be getting to him. “You should eat something,” I say. “If you want to drink more.”

“Oh, I definitely want to drink more.” He sighs. “I’ve been trying to make eye contact with the waitstaff who are passing out the food, but so far no luck.”

I frown, eyeing a young woman with a tray of hors d’oeuvres a few feet away. I snap my fingers. “Miss, come here.”

She jumps at the sound of my voice and turns to face us. When she sees who it is calling to her, she hurries over, looking flustered. “Hello, Mr. Barone. W… would you care f… for some hors d’oeuvres?”

I peruse the platter, taking in the fresh oysters topped with shallots, and beef carpaccio with shaved parmigiano. She hands us cocktail napkins and Evan takes one of each appetizer. I only take one of the beef offerings because I’m not that hungry. I don’t show my nerves like Evan does, but I’m also on edge. In theory, I’m surrounded by some friends, but the truth is a lot of them are simply pretending to kiss the ring. I can’t truly let down my guard with most of them.

“It looks like Isabella has arrived,” Evan says, sounding pleased.

I glance over and see Isabella standing beside my mother at our family’s table. My mother looks elegant in silver gray silk, her hair swept up in a sophisticated bun. Isabella is charming in a flowy pink pastel dress, her dark hair loose around her slender shoulders. Tony’s dress jacket looks a little too tight on his big frame, but he’s laying the charm on thick with one of the bridesmaids. Tony may be a goof-up much of the time, but he has a way with the ladies.

I’m happy to see Marco is also seated at my family’s table. “Looks like Marco made it too. I was worried he wouldn’t.” I sound a little more enthusiastic than planned, but I truly am happy he made it to the wedding.

Evan smirks. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re experiencing what us humans call emotions.”

I frown. “Are you mocking me?”

He shrugs. “It’s just interesting to see you excited about something. Like a real boy.”

I slip my hand up his back, grabbing him by the scruff. “Evan, we’ve been getting along so nicely. Don’t spoil the mood.”

He winces at the squeeze of my hand on his neck, and he laughs. “Okay. Okay. I’m sorry.”

“That’s better.” I’m happy he doesn’t seem to mind my touch, and I enjoy the feel of his corded muscles beneath my fingers. It’s been way too long since I got to touch him. He’s in a good mood today, and I find it makes me happy. My stomach flutters with anticipation for later tonight. “Let’s join the family, shall we?”

“Sure” He lets me steer him toward my family’s table.

The minute Isabella sees him, she squeals, “Evan.” She moves to hug him, and he grins down at her. “Wow, you look great in that suit,” she gushes.

“Luca had it made for me.” He meets my gaze. “Overnight, if you can believe it.”

Isabella laughs. “Of course I can believe it. Luca gets what Luca wants.”

My mother smiles warmly at Evan. “Evan, come say hello.”

He obeys, moving to her. She offers her cheek for a kiss, and he obliges without hesitation. I knew my family had dined with Evan, but I hadn’t realized what a good impression he’d made on them. Isabella and Mother seem genuinely fond of him.

I also kiss my mother and she pats my cheek gently. “Hello, figlio mio.”

“Mama. You look beautiful as usual.”

She runs a slender hand over her hair. “It’s nice to get out of the house and dress up a little. Weddings are such beautiful occasions, don’t you think?”

I smirk. “So long as I’m not the one tying the knot, sure.”

She shakes her head. “Your generation is too self-centered. I fear I may never have grandchildren.”

I ignore her comment because it’s a point of contention between us. Both my parents knew, and accepted, that I was gay. My dad more grudgingly than Mama. They never openly shamed me for it, but they also made it clear what they expected of me. Despite my sexuality, they expected me to marry a woman and produce an heir. They didn’t mind if I had fun with men, so long as, ultimately, I did my duty. Despite my father’s death, that expectation hasn’t changed. My mother is happy to remind me what’s expected of me every chance she gets.

But since I’m nowhere near ready to settle down, that’s a battle for another day.

Before we even have a chance to sit down, Isabella drags Evan out onto the dance floor. He gives me an rueful smile, but he allows her to tug him after her. I feel a twinge of annoyance that she’s monopolizing my date. However, the more Evan seems to be accepted by my family, the more people will believe our relationship is real.

I watch Evan dancing with her to a Taylor Swift song. He dances stiffly, and doesn’t appear to be enjoying the experience much. But he’s being a good sport about it, and Isabella can’t take her eyes off him. I sigh and join Marco at the end of the table. He sits with his injured leg carefully positioned out in front of his body, crutches leaning against the table.

“Boss.” His cheeks are flushed as he grins up at me, appearing a bit tipsy. “How’s it shaking?”

I take the chair beside him. “You look like you’re feeling no pain.”

“I’m definitely feeling pretty good right now.” He holds up a bottle of champagne. “I’ve had three fourths of this bottle, and it’s amazing how much better life seems.”

“Don’t over do it. I’m sure puking into a toilet is challenging with a leg cast on.”

He grimaces and sets the bottle down. “Good point.”

My gaze returns to Evan and Isabella out on the dance floor. “Didn’t Isabella bring a date?” I ask.

“Nope. Looks like she’s time sharing yours instead.” He wrinkles his brow. “I worry she’s smitten with Evan. When she stayed at my place those few days after my surgery, she talked about him constantly. She couldn’t wait to see him today.”

“I noticed. She seems to have forgotten he’s my date, not hers.” Not wanting to give away just how much it bugs me to watch Isabella hanging on Evan, I say, “But that’s fine. I don’t like to dance, and this keeps him busy while the grownups talk.”

Marco snorts a laugh. “True.”

“How’s the leg healing?” I rap my knuckles on the cast. “Did you bring a sharpie? I could sign your cast.”

He laughs. “Sorry, I don’t have one on me.”

I grab a butter knife off the table. “I guess I could carve my name into the plaster.”

He grins. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

“You’re no fun.” I smirk, setting the knife down.

The fast song ends and a slow song starts up. Evan starts to leave the dance floor, but Isabella grabs his hand and tugs him back. Then she stands on tip-toes and puts her arms around his neck. I’m unprepared for the rush of jealousy I feel as he slips his arms around her tiny waist. I’m sure he’s just being polite, but it still bugs me.

“If she’s not careful, she’s going to have people thinking she’s the one dating Evan,” I grumble.

“Yeah,” Marco agrees, looking equally perturbed. “She needs to slow down the seduction routine. People are watching them.”

I grit my teeth as Isabella laughs gayly at something Evan said. “What is she thinking flirting so much with him?”

Marco sighs. “Isabella doesn’t think. She just does what she wants.”

“That’s fine when it’s her life,” I mutter. “But she’s fucking with mine right now, and I don’t like it.”

Mama had been visiting with a friend who’d dropped by the table to say ‘hi’. But as her friend walks away, her gaze fixes on Isabella. “Is that Isabella dancing with Evan?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Marco says. “She’s putting on a real show.”

Mama frowns. “I can see that.”

The way Isabella is gazing up at Evan makes my stomach churn. I’m not sure what to do. I didn’t anticipate Isabella monopolizing Evan today. The whole point of bringing Evan was to show he’s mine. Isabella is muddying the waters by brazenly flirting with the guy who’s supposed to be mine .

When that song ends and Isabella keeps Evan on the dance floor yet again, I feel like steam might come out of my ears. I’m not sure what to do. I don’t want to run out onto the dance floor and make a fool of myself. But Isabella is behaving rudely, and people are definitely staring at them.

“Can she seriously be that obtuse?” I say.

“I swear that girl has no sense sometimes,” Mama grouses. “She never thinks about the consequences of her actions.”

“No,” I grumble, watching Evan and Isabella dance. “She just does stuff and I have to clean up her messes.”

“Tony,” Mama says sharply.

Tony pulls his attention from the brunette bridesmaid he’s trying to seduce. “Yes, Mama?”

“Go cut in with Isabella and Evan.” Mama’s voice is annoyed. “Tell Evan to come back to the table.”

I’m relieved at Mama’s suggestion. Tony is the perfect person to cut in. I can only hope most people will just chalk Isabella’s behavior up to too much champagne.

I watch as Tony goes and cuts in to dance with Isabella. My sister’s expression is not happy. She all but glares at Tony as he nudges Evan out of the way, and takes over dancing with her. But Evan just walks away, looking relieved.

Evan returns to our table, taking the seat beside me. His leg presses mine, and I’m happy when he keeps it there. I’m even happier when he puts his arm along the back of my chair. Perhaps he’s caught on that Isabella’s behavior could cause us trouble? I’m not sure what his reason is, but I like the possessive gesture.

I lean in and say against his ear, “Don’t dance with Isabella anymore today.”

“Okay.” His tone is agreeable and he doesn’t look at me.

“You’re my date, not hers.”

“I know.”

I huff. “You danced three songs with her. How do you think that looks?”

He turns his head and our mouths are only inches apart. “I said, okay . I understand the assignment, Luca.”

“Didn’t look like it from here,” I grumble, holding his gaze. I’m always amazed at how green his eyes are. Our mouths are so close, I’m tempted to kiss him. I want to taste him, but also—kissing him would help send the message that he’s mine.

But before I can make a move, he leans in first and he takes my mouth in a slow, seductive kiss. I’m surprised, but mostly thrilled. I open to his tongue, and slide my hand up his thigh. I’m not usually one for PDA, but I’ll be damned if I’m stopping whatever the fuck this is. If he wants his tongue in my mouth, who am I to argue?

He slowly pulls back with a satisfied smirk on his lips. “That should help squash some of the rumors,” he says under his breath.

My pulse is erratic after the kiss. Jesus, I’d forgotten how good he tastes, and just how easily he lights me on fire. It takes all my self-control not to drag him under the table to finish what he started.

Evan recovers from the kiss quicker than me. He gestures toward Marco’s cast. “How’s your leg?”

Marco eyes Evan. “It’s healing slower than I’d like.”

Evan winces. “That sucks.”

Marco nods toward the crutches. “The doctors say another week before I can ditch these.”

“The shape that SUV was in?” Evan shudders. “It could have been way worse.”

Marco’s face tenses. “Yeah.”

I suspect he wants to thank Evan for saving his ass, but he hesitates to do that in front of me. Plus, it’s awkward to thank someone for saving your life when you planned on murdering them. The accident is the only reason Marco didn’t put a bullet in Evan’s brain.

“Luca.” Vittorio Russo approaches, champagne in hand, his Miami tan contrasting against his crisp white shirt. His smile is wide, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I wasn’t sure if you’d make the wedding. Not with all the drama in Naples.”

“Oh, that’s old news. I settled that already,” I say indifferently. I sip my now tepid champagne, trying not to wince at how disgusting it tastes. “Easy peasy.”

“That’s great news. I knew you’d handle it.” He turns to Evan. “Well, well, if it isn’t the rebellious young hockey player who cost me a small fortune. I was starting to doubt you even existed.”

“I exist.” Evan stands and offers his hand. “I’m Evan. It’s nice to meet you,”

“Vittorio Russo.” He shakes Evan’s hand. “Luca and I go way back.”

I also stand. “Yes, I’ve known Vittorio for what feels like forever.”

Laughing, Vittorio says, “You make it sound like a bad thing.”

“Not at all,” I say smoothly. “You know how important you are to me, Vittorio. Don’t play coy.”

Vittorio looks pleased. “I am pretty damn important, aren’t I?”

Evan smiles politely. “Do you work for Luca?”

“I prefer to say I work with Luca.” Vittorio says, rocking back on his heels. “Our relationship is mutually beneficial.”

“That it is.” I smile agreeably. “We’ve made a lot of money together.”

“Indeed.” Vittorio’s gaze fastens on Evan. “Although, you’re unwillingness to throw the Chicago game cost me a lot of money.”

Evan grimaces, looking chastened. “If I had a nickel for every time I’ve heard that today.”

“I’ll bet that’s true.” Vittorio leans toward Evan, his eyes suddenly cold. “You’re lucky Luca has a soft spot for you, and that I respect Luca.”

Evan’s body tenses. “If it makes you feel any better, I know I fucked up.”

“Is that right?” Vittorio looks like a predatory snake as he eyes Evan. I almost expect a forked tongue to slither from his mouth.

“I got confused by my loyalty to my team. It won’t happen again,” Evan says. “Luca explained how my actions hurt a lot of people financially. I didn’t think that through.”

“No, you didn’t.” Vittorio rubs his chin. “Loyalty to the syndicate must always come before anything else. If Luca tells you to do something, you’d better do it.”

Evan clears his throat. “I understand things better now. Luca was gracious enough to forgive me, and I’m really hoping his friends can too. I don’t want to lose him because I made a dumb mistake. Luca is too important to me.”

Evan is so convincing, he almost has me believing we’re a real couple. I didn’t know the guy was that good of an actor. It’s unsettling to watch him. I’ll have to remember what a skilled liar he is.

Vittorio studies Evan, and then he nods. “I appreciate your candor. It can’t be easy to admit you made a mistake and to ask for forgiveness.”

“No, it’s not easy,” murmurs, Evan. “But it’s necessary.”

I’ve known Vittorio a long time. He’s not an empathetic person, not by a long shot. But as he watches Evan, his expression softens. I’m amazed that Evan has apparently gotten through to my jaded associate.

Bravo, Evan.

Vittorio smiles unexpectedly and squeezes Evan’s shoulder. “Your important to Luca, or you wouldn’t be here. If Luca forgives you, I have no beef with you.”

Evan slumps, looking relieved. “Thanks. That means a lot.” He slips his arm though mine. The way he looks at me, as if all he wants in life is to please me, makes my cock throb. I know it’s an act, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit my pulse skyrockets in that moment.

Vittorio laughs gruffly. “You’re a lucky man, Luca. I’d kill for my mistress, or even my wife, to look at me that way.”

I smile. “I am lucky.”

Vittorio was the one person I’d worried the most about. He’s a cynic by nature, and I wasn’t sure he’d buy my story. Especially if Evan did anything to make him think this was all an act. But Evan passed with flying colors. We’re out of the woods for now. If Vittorio believes we’re a couple, everyone else should fall in line.

“Now, I’m going to hit the bar,” Vittorio says. “I think I see Tommy O’Malley over there, and he’ll drink up all the good whisky if I don’t hurry and get some.”

I laugh. “Smart man.”

Once we’re alone, I turn to Evan. “Good job,” I say under my breath.

“Thanks.” He grimaces. “I was worried I might be laying it on a little thick.”

“No, I think he believed you.”

Relief flutters through Evan’s eyes. “Okay, good.”

I glance at the dance floor. “Now, as much as I loathe dancing, I think we should dance at least once.” Dancing isn’t my thing, but after the way Isabella tried to monopolize Evan, it’s important to be seen on the dance floor together, acting like a real couple.

“Oh, uh, okay.” He hesitates. The song that’s playing is a slow love ballad and he appears uncertain. “This song or a fast song?”

“Slow is best.”

“Okay.”

I hold out my hand and he grabs hold. I enjoy the warmth of his skin against mine as I lead him out onto the dance floor. He moves closer, and I slide my arm around his waist. My dick warms immediately at the feel of his lithe, athletic body folded into mine. When I slip my hand up his spine, he shivers.

When Evan accidentally steps on my toe, he stiffens. “Shit. Sorry. I haven’t danced since high school.”

I pull back to study his face. “Seriously?”

He lifts his brows. “I play hockey. Dancing with the Stars has yet to call.”

“But, don’t you ever go to clubs?”

“Nope.” He stares over my shoulder. “I haven’t gone to a club since high school either. That was probably the last time I danced.”

“Huh. I thought maybe the team sometimes went to clubs. You hear stories about how wild professional athletes are.”

He laughs. “Some athletic clubs are rowdy. The Ice Hawks isn’t one of them. We go out drinking during off season sometimes. Not often though. We have to be really disciplined or we lose ground fast. It’s easier to maintain peak physical conditioning than to chase after it.”

“Sounds like a drag.” I smirk, smacking my flat stomach. “I’d die without my red wine and cheesy Italian food. Although, lately, I don’t eat dinner with the family as often as I should.”

His expression becomes pensive. “It’s important to take time for the people you love. While you still can.”

I suspect he might be thinking of his mother. “I know you’re right. We always think we have all the time in the world, but we really don’t.”

“No.” He drops his gaze to my shoulder. “We don’t.”

I clear my throat. “I’m very aware that I could die at any moment.”

He blinks at me, appearing taken aback. “We all could die at any moment.”

I smile. “Sure, but in my business, it’s a more constant worry. Death is all around me, and I know one day it’ll come for me too.”

“Jesus, Luca,” he says under his breath. “That’s a grim thought.”

“Weren’t you just saying the same thing? That we needed to be aware of our mortality so that we spent time with the ones we love?”

“Well, I was thinking more of being there for my loved ones. Not really about my own death.” He wrinkles his brow. “Although, considering my situation, maybe I should.”

“Nah, I think you’re okay. So long as you don’t do anything stupid.”

He scrunches his face. “Gee, how reassuring.”

I laugh. “I’m trying to assure you that you’re probably fine.”

“ Probably fine.” He shakes his head.

“All I’m saying is life is unpredictable. We should make the most of it.” As I finish speaking, the song ends. When another slow song begins, I tighten my arms around Evan so he can’t leave the dance floor.

He hesitates and then relaxes back into me. He holds my gaze, looking thoughtful. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yes.”

“If you did die, what would happen to me? To your family?”

I grimace. “It would depend on how I died. If my death was accidental, my brother Tony would probably take control of the Barone Syndicate. He’s not really suited for the job, but he’s the next in line. But if it was a hit, then my family’s lives would be in danger, as would yours.”

“Awesome.” He sighs.

“I don’t plan on dying, if that makes you feel any better.”

He meets my gaze and there’s confusion simmering there. “There was a time when I’d have been happy if you died.”

While I don’t like hearing that, I can’t say I’m surprised. “But not now?”

A line appears between his light brows. “Now, I’m not sure how I’d feel if you died.”

“Is that because your life might be in danger?” I smirk. “Or because you’d miss me?”

His eyes flicker. “Probably the first one.”

I’m surprised by how disappointed I am at his response. Evan has no reason to like me, or to want me alive. I’ve threatened him with his life more times than I can recall. But remembering our intense connection when we first met, it’s sad to think he no longer feels that way about me.

I shrug, pretending his words don’t bother me. “Well, as I said, I don’t plan on dying anytime soon.”

The song ends and we leave the dance floor. I deposit Evan at my family’s table and go in search of the bar. I need something stronger than champagne. There’s a knot in the pit of my stomach. I know what’s put it there too, but I refuse to dwell on it. For a man in my position, it’s best not to fixate on things of the heart.