Page 1 of Luciano

Chapter 1

Ava

The numbers on the invoices in front of me had started to blur. The neat rows of digits dissolved into more of a white haze the longer I stared at them. My pen hovered over the paper, unmoving, as a cold, dark feeling curled low in my stomach. It spread like ice through my veins, sharp and insistent, until my fingers went numb, and my chest tightened like a vice.

Something bad was about to happen. I could feel it.

My cousin Dewanda liked to say I had a sixth sense—that I could smell trouble coming before anyone else. That I had some type of magic. But it wasn’t some mystical gift. It was survival. I’d just learned how to brace for the worst, and to steel myself for whatever bad thing inevitably came crashing through my life.

And right now, that feeling was screaming at me.

“You listening to me or what?” My cousin’s voice cut through the fog in my head. I forced myself to focus.

“Ava, you good?” he asked, his brow furrowed.

I blinked hard, focusing on the stacks of invoices in front of me before looking up at him. “Yeah,” I managed, forcing a smile. “I’m good. Just… drifted off for a sec. What were you saying?”

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his expression serious now. “I said you’re doing good here, Ava.Got Dewanda living nice,” he said, nodding toward the stacks of papers on my desk. “Legit money, a real business. I respect it.”

“I’m trying,” I replied, avoiding his eyes. Because I didn’t feel like I was doing well. Not really.

“Yeah, but there’s more out there than this,” he added, his voice dropping slightly. “You know that, right? You don’t want no husband? No kids? You always here. Don’t go out. You ain’t living.”

I met his gaze head-on, my jaw tightening. “Just say what you came here to say, Dre.”

I was tired of everyone telling me what I needed—and how I needed to live my life.

He leaned back in the chair, his expression hardening. “They’re having a memorial tonight. For your pops. It’s been fifteen years since… well, since it happened.” He paused, watching me closely. “You should come. Meet some people. Have some fun.”

I felt a familiar tightening in my chest, but I forced my face to stay blank. “I’m not going.”

“Why not?” he pressed. “People still talk about him, Ava. They still respect what he built. You should show up. They’ve been protecting you, making sure no harm comes to you on the strength of him since you moved here. You gotta show respect back.”

I shook my head. “I don’t want any parts of it. I lived too much of it already.”

His jaw tightened. “I get it, Ava, but you can’t erase where you come from. You’re still part of it, whether you like it or not. The store, the community center. You’re what he left behind.”

My father had done what he said he would. Using the money he made doing bad for some good was, in its own twisted way, admirable. He’d built something out of nothing—a legacy, a name for himself. But that didn’t mean I wanted any part of it.

I leaned back in my chair, the leather creaking under my weight. I met Dre’s gaze across the desk. “What he left behind was a mess, Dre. One that got him killed. I’m not going to honor that.”

I wanted to add that it got my momma killed too, but I bit the words back. He didn’t know she was dead. For years, I’d stuck to the lie that she’d simply run away, disappeared into the night to escape an abusive mobster. It was easier that way. Easier than admitting the truth—that she was buried in the backyard of the house my father had bought her.

Dre’s expression hardened, his jaw tightening as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. “I see fear in your eyes, Ava. What are you afraid of?”

I stared at him, my fingers curling around the edge of the desk. “I’m not scared. It’s just not a life I want to be involved in. You should probably get out too. I’ll pay for you to leave. You want a million? Two?”

I’d been careful with the money Momma left me, investing it quietly over the years, letting it grow until I had more than enough to offer Dre a way out. It was my safety net, my escape plan—my way of ensuring I’d never be trapped.

Dre’s laugh was low and bitter. He shook his head, smirking. “I don’t need a handout, and I don’t want out. I’m a boss. Power, money, respect, that’s all I need. And these bitches. You need to at least have some fun, call that Luc—”

The landline on my desk rang, cutting him off.

“Give me a second, Dre,” I said, then reached for it. I knew it wasn’t nobody but Dewanda. She was late again.

“Yeah?”

There was a pause, then a voice that sent ice through my veins.

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