LUCA_Her Ruthless Don Page 9

  His words, delivered so sincerely with that Stallone accent, stutter my heart so that I can’t speak. But then my inner smart aleck swoops in. “Well, Frank Sinatra was Italian, too.”

  I both hear and feel the rumble of his laugh in my ear.

  Then he says, “Deltano’s got two sons. Both of them talk too much. Want me to kill his family like he killed yours? I will. Just give me the word.”

  The offer is quiet. The very opposite of a joke. And my heart chills with the possibility.

  “He killed my family after my dad kidnapped and tortured you,” I point out. “Nobody’s innocent in all of this. Not even me. You weren’t the first guy I delivered meals to, you know, after my dad beat them into a bloody pulp.”

  His lips find the top of my head. “Is that why you’re so hot for justice? To make up for the shit that went down when you were a kid?”

  I chuff, because, “I didn’t realize that until you said it out loud, but yeah. I guess that’s why I’m compelled to help people. I want my life to be completely different from Bella’s. I want to help not hurt. Never hurt. So please… just leave Deltano’s sons be. Let them live their lives. No more violence.”

  My request echoes through the air, the both of us probably deeply aware that Luca Ferraro is scheduled to become the next head of the Ferraro crime family.

  And that family has a reputation. One that had gotten me an instant ticket into the WITSEC program. I can still remember my handler telling me how I’d have to be extremely careful about maintaining my secret identity because the Ferraros weren’t above killing whole families in retaliation for crimes against one of theirs. And how I’d have to be even more diligent if I ever decided to have children myself, because they were known to wait until the children of their enemies grew up and had children of their own before killing them, too.

  It wasn’t Daddy taking me through a guided tour of the bad man’s crimes on his laptop. But close enough. And from the sounds of it, possibly worse.

  Jake had been all smooth banter and hey, Reynolds, let’s fall in love. But Luca… he’s raw obsession and a voice that doesn’t shake one bit when he offers to kill two innocent men for me.

  “I love you. So much it scares me. And enough to overlook your past and your lies,” I whisper into his silence. “But I can’t be with somebody like my father. I’m strong—strong enough to love you despite our past, but I don’t have it in me to be with a killer and a liar. So if you’re still planning on murdering either of my half-brothers when they have children. If you can’t be honest with me, I can’t… I can’t be with you. If we do this, you’ve got to promise me…no more violence…no more lies.”

  More silence. And for seconds on end, all I can hear is his heart beating, fast and angry.

  But then he says, “Alright. No more violence. No more lies.”

  And I release a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

  Because against all odds, we’re doing this. We’ve decided to be together. For real this time, not for the con. And now it’s my heart racing in my chest because try as I might, I can’t feel anything but happy about this love we’ve somehow managed to dig out from the mud of our pasts.

  A few days after deciding to love each other for real, I get a special braille invitation to attend Talia’s over-the-top royal wedding to the Prince of Les Ilesde la Victoire—a small island nation off the Western coast of Africa.

  “Wanna come along?” I ask Luca, and he says, “Sure. Never been on vacay with a girl before.” Like traveling with someone of the opposite sex is on a bucket list he never knew he had before, along with actually taking part in a loving, monogamous relationship.

  I don’t laugh. But I want to—I’m always biting back laughter with him. Which is crazy, because I’m one of the harshest, most cynical people you’ll ever meet. However, Luca brings out something new in me. A joyful girl I never knew was still knocking around behind the walls I erected.

  And a few months later when we arrive in Victoire, I’m still trying to figure out how we made it to this happy ending.

  However different I thought it was going to be with Talia, it’s not. Even though she’s received a huge status upgrade from a reluctant law student, she chooses to stand in a corner with Luca and me at the rehearsal dinner after-party, like I’m the most important guest at the event. We talk about old times and the many accessibility challenges that will come with taking the bar in September. But as soon as Luca excuses himself to use the bathroom, Talia drops the small talk and starts in with her real questions.

  “So, you’re living together now, but you still haven’t met his family?” she whispers.

  “Nope,” I answer. “And trust me, I’m cool with that.”

  Luckily, Luca comes back before I have to explain why.

  We stay on for two more days after the wedding to make sure we take full advantage of the quiet tropical setting before heading back to noisy New York City.

  “You still got something against dating Italians?” he asks me as we sit on the lounge chairs outside our bungalow at the resort Talia put all her guests up in.

  “Nah, I guess not,” I answer grinning up into the warm sun.

  “How about marrying one then?” He turns my hand sun up and places a small fuzzy box on my palm.

  And even before I open it, I have the feeling Luca and I are about to do Somethin’ Stupid. Again.

  Part II

  A Very Good Year

  12

  All My Tomorrows

  Luca

  “Hi, Jake…?”

  I recognize the apologetic tone even before I look up from my computer to see Donna, standing in my cubicle’s doorway.

  “Hey, Donna, what’s up?” I answer, eyeing the stack of files in her arms.

  Despite my professional tone and the zero interest I’ve shown any chick in the CalMart Legal Department since I started here two months ago, Donna still acts nervous around me.

  She shuffles her feet and pushes her hair behind her ear, like five times, before she says, “Kevin knows your wedding is tomorrow, but he just wanted to make sure you handled these before you left…?”

  Donna is one of those chicks that phrase everything like it’s a question and possibly up for debate, but I take the files from her, knowing it’s not.

  Our boss, Kevin is the Senior Vice President of Merchandising, Marketing, and Supply Chain. He’s got that sallow, sunken eye look of somebody who never leaves the office during daylight hours, and maybe not at night either. There’s a private bathroom in his office, and for all I know, that closet of his has a collection of suits he changes in and out of right before the first workers start filing into the office. Truth is, even on my latest night, I’ve never left before he did or come in before he arrived. Supposedly he’s got a wife and family stashed away in Connecticut, just like Holt, but also just like Holt, you’d never know it with the hours he keeps.

  “Got it,” I say to Donna, nonetheless. Yeah, it’s the day before my wedding, but it’s not like a bunch of other companies were looking to hire Luca “Jake” Ferraro. Sure, my background check comes back clean—spotless, in fact. Dad made sure of that.

  But as it turns out, really smart girls don’t let themselves get suckered into doing somebody else’s homework. So, my grades, depending on who was doing my assignments for me, have ranged from so-so to just all right. I never bothered to intern, preferring to spend my summers in places like Ibiza, Miami, Aruba, Vegas, and any other five-letter destination with a 24/7 party. And even if you turned a blind eye to my less than stellar school record, it’s hard to ignore the fact that the Ferraro family has a whole Wikipedia page dedicated to all our crimes, both suspected and proven.

  This Business and Legal Coordinator position in CalMart’s legal department was pretty much the best I could do with the kind of name recognition I brought along with me to any job—even if I’d decided to go by Jake in an effort to put my co-workers’ minds a
t ease. So, I take the folders from Donna and keep my mouth closed about getting a bunch of extra work right before I go on vacation.

  “Congratulations…?” she says-asks as she backs out of the cubicle. But then her eyes shift to the engagement photo of Amber and me that I keep on my desk, and her voice suddenly takes on an uncharacteristic note of certainty when she says, “Your fiancée is a very lucky woman.”

  “Nah,” I answer, grinning back at her. “I’m the lucky one.”

  I’m still thinking that I’m the lucky one a few hours later, even though the ten file folders Donna brought me turned out to be a shitload of work. First passes on three minor contract deals that Kevin can’t be bothered to look over himself. Plus, a bunch of credit card printouts from older attorneys who never learned to keep their personal and business transactions separate. Which means I’ve got to go through them with a highlighter. Also, a good fifty check requests—probably from people, who like Kevin, know I’ll be gone for a week after this.

  I get through it, but I’m almost an hour late by the time I make it up to Holt’s office for what’s supposed to be my official bachelor party.

  But turns out I didn’t need to rush. I find Holt still at his desk, plugging away on his computer. He probably hasn’t even noticed my late arrival yet. I’ve known this version of Holt going on a couple of years now, but it still never fails to surprise me. Used to be a time when the guy partied even harder than me. But then ‘That Summer’ happened, and overnight he switched from #richkidsofinstagram mode to #30under30 status.

  Now he’s settled down, got a kid, and a sweet corner office with a view he never bothers to appreciate. And I’m pretty sure the only reason he’s planning to stop work on a Friday night is that I’ve come up to get him.

  “Sorry, I’m late,” I say as I come through the door without a courtesy knock.

  He looks up like he’s been caught. “Hey, Lu—, I mean, Jake. I was just IM’ing you. I can’t make it out tonight—”

  “No, no,” I say before he can even finish that sentence. “It’s my bachelor party, man, and everybody but you and Z has already bailed. You can’t do this to me, bro.”

  If I sound mad desperate, that’s because I am. Tip for rich kids: If you ever want to find out who your real friends are, tell everybody you’ve been cut off, which means you can’t afford to party with them like you used to and you no longer have access to all the illegal shit you used to arrange for them. Then invite them to your every-guy-pays-for-himself after work bachelor party. That will tell you who’s got your back. Real fucking quick.

  And as it turns out Holt and Zahir were my only real friends all along. Even Rock and Stone didn’t return my call or follow up text about the bachelor party. They’re probably still pissed about losing a third of their Sunday Night dishes workforce. I pretty much got myself banned from dinner, Mass, and all other Ferraro events after announcing I’d be getting married to a blind, black girl and taking a regular job with CalMart in the city.

  And I’m good with my life-changing decision…. I am. I mean, yeah, deciding on Amber meant I had to give up my lifelong ambition to become the head of the Ferraro crime family, and a lot of my pride. Because, trust me, working an 8 to 5 at CalMart isn’t exactly living the dream.

  But I almost lost her. It was a matter of minutes. If I’d gotten to her even two minutes later, she’d have been dead.

  And fuck if that two minutes didn’t make everything crystal clear. Like how becoming the Ferraro crime boss didn’t mean shit if she wasn’t by my side. And how the only true authentic feelings I’ve had since getting pulled out of that basement have involved her. And fuck my pride, fuck my bad boy reputation, and all that bullshit I’d been telling myself about how I didn’t want to ever settle down. Everybody in both my degree programs was talking about next steps. And after I put Greggi Deltano in the ground instead of her, I realize clear than fucking clear that none of my next steps would be worth shit if she weren’t by my side.

  But she said it herself.

  She loves me, but she ain’t strong enough to love a mafioso. So I chose her. I became Jake which meant either losing or giving up pretty much everything that made me Luca.

  And I don’t regret it, but I am dead serious when I tell Holt, “If you don’t come it won’t even be a party. Just me and Zahir hanging out—.”

  “I know, but something’s come up,” Holt starts to say.

  A toilet flushes behind the closed door of his private bathroom, and the reason for Holt’s sudden decision not to come to my bachelor party walks out.

  “You ready yet, son?” Jack Calson, Holt’s father, asks. CalMart’s current CEO’s Tennessee accent rings out across the mostly glass office as he strides into the office. “All I know how to say in Spanish is hola, so I can’t be explaining why we’re late.”

  “Dad, the CalMart Mexico team speaks English,” Holt answers, his tight-jawed Connecticut tone in stark contrast to his father’s southern fried one.

  But instead of answering his son, Jack eyes me up and down before saying, “What you doing here, Ferraro? And why are you wearing one of our work badges?”

  I look down at the lanyard I’d forgotten to take off when I left my desk.

  And though Holt’s face stays perfectly composed, his voice sounds strained as he says, “Jake started as a coordinator in the Business and Legal Affairs department a couple of months ago.”

  Jack’s head whips sideways to squint at Holt. “You hired a Ferraro to work in our legal department,” he says like Holt’s lost his mind.

  “Dad, Luca just finished a combined MBA/JD program at Columbia, he’s more than qualified for the job. Overqualified, in fact.”

  “If he’s so overqualified, why don’t you let somebody else hire the kid from one of the most notorious crime families in America. For all you know, he’s already figured out how to embezzle—”

  “Kay, Jake, see you tomorrow,” Holt says, cutting his dad off. He shoots me a look, one that clearly translates as, Go, GO NOW before he makes me fire you right here on the spot.

  I could argue with Holt. Could stand up for myself against his asshole CEO father, who I’ve never liked, just like he’s never liked me.

  But the fact is, Amber only passed the bar a month ago. We had to move out of the Upper East Side apartment to a place in Astoria that I can still barely afford on what I’m making here. And even then, I had to sell the watch Dad got me for my high school graduation to make the down payment. Jack Calson might be an asshole looking down his nose at me, but I’m no longer Luca Ferraro, the future don, who most men wouldn’t dare to look in the eye, much less insult.

  Now I’m Jake. The guy who power players like Holt and his dad use to do all the shit work they can’t be bothered with, even though they make at least three times what I do downstairs in my cubicle.

  “See ya, Holt,” I say, purposefully unclenching my jaw and forcing all sorts of good cheer I don’t feel into my voice.

  It’s humiliating, and I can’t say I don’t think about it. Calling my dad and trying to get back into his good graces.

  But that’s exactly what I can’t do. And rich guys like Holt are the perfect example of why. They get all the money they want, but they’re slaves to their rich daddies. Only allowed an access code to the family bank if they do exactly what Daddy wants. And they don’t dare to marry anyone Pops didn’t give his stamp of approval to.

  And I know what my father wants. For me to be a Ferraro, I’d have to either give up Amber or relegate her to some apartment in another state while I run the business with a nice Italian wife by my side. If it were up to him, he’d probably choose the girl himself, just like Jack Calson all but hand-picked Holt’s blonde society wife and like Zahir’s dad will one day pick a perfect Arab princess for his son.

  But I don’t want that. There are only two things I’ve ever truly wanted for real in my life. Revenge and Amber.

  One I’m never goin
g to get because Amber’s dad is dead at our own duplicitous underboss’s hand.

  The other I have. But not if I walk my father’s path.

  So, I leave Holt behind at the office. Hail a cab instead of bothering with an Uber, and open the mirroring app as soon as I get in the back seat. Not surprisingly, there’s a lot of activity today. Unlike me, Amber actually has a bunch of real friends. The day before the wedding, everybody’s checking in and confirming details, including Talia, even though she couldn’t make the trip since it conflicts with her own mother’s surprise wedding.

  Talia’s excited for her best friend, even if she can’t be there. But my former biggest fan, Naima, has become another story. After the kidnapping, Amber’s bridesmaid decided she doesn’t like me as much as she thought she did when I was just a rich guy, providing her family with a lawyer at no cost.

  “Are you sure about this?” she texted Amber earlier in the day. “Can’t you just keep living together? Why do you have to get married?”

  “Because I love him, and he loves me,” Amber answered, within the same minute, according to the time stamp.

  She makes it sound simple, but the real answer is in the in-between. All the stuff she’s not saying to her friend. All the stuff I know about her that even her best friend Talia doesn’t.

  And I get it, even if Naima doesn’t, because I feel the same way.

  Like, in a whole world of girls, there’s not another one on Earth who will understand me the way Amber does. Accept me the way Amber does. Love me, despite everything, the way Amber does. I know that’s how she feels about me because that’s how I feel about her. Like we were built for each other. Perfectly matched, even if my family, and just about none of our friends agree.