Page 32 of Sinful Mafia Prince

“A prune plum.”

Luca screwed his nose up and shook his head, and the lady behind the counter gasped.

“Congratulations, you’ve now offended one of the elders here in Lake Como.”

Luca’s mouth began to flap as though he was trying to think of the words to apologize, but realizing he didn’t speak her language, he reached for one of the plums and brought it to his mouth.

Before he took a bite, though, he glanced at Dom and asked, “Does it uh, have the same side effects of a prune?”

“Meaning?”

“Are you being purposely obtuse?”

“If you’re asking me if you’re going to shit all over yourself, then the answer is no. Do you really think I’d be eating one if that was the case?”

“Well, it’s important to ask.” Luca glanced around the markets. “It’s not like I see any restrooms nearby.”

“Again with all the questions. Trust, Luca. Try having some.”

“Um, you do realize how crazy that sounds coming from you, right?”

Dom flashed a grin and then nodded to the fruit. “Just eat the damn plum.”

Luca took a bite of the sweet fruit and when the juices hit his tongue, he nodded and took another. “Wow, okay, this is really good.”

Dom looked to the little lady behind the stand still glaring daggers at Luca.“Prendiamone una dozzina. Ignorarlo, è Americano. Non sa niente del cibo.”

“Ah, adesso è chiaro.”

As she bagged up the fruit and handed it over, Luca said, “What was that about me being an American?”

“I just told her you were visiting.”

“You’re such a bad liar.”

Dom shrugged, and they continued through the aisles of fresh veggies and fruit, stopping every so often to sample and purchase another bag of produce. The crowds were bustling, the markets full, as everyone went about their morning routine so they could go home and start cooking for the rest of the day.

He’d missed this kind of lifestyle. This relaxed, easygoing living. There were no chain supermarkets where groceries sat for days. No wrapped fish or meat in Styrofoam containers with plastic wrapping. Here, everything was fresh. Everything was a day-to-day choice, and there was something so refreshing about that, something liberating about not being tied to a choice you made a week ago.

Well, wasn’tthatan accurate metaphor for his life? Here Dom was in Italy with Luca because of a string of choices he’d made. Choices he’d been pressured to make to fulfill his father’s wishes. What would it be like to just live? Take life a day at a time with no thought of what might happen tomorrow?

“Qui! Qui! Vieni qui.”

“Wait, what?” Luca’s voice snapped Dom out of his thoughts and back to the present. “I don’t understand… Let me go, please.”

Dom turned to where Luca had been walking beside him a second ago to see a big, burly man with his hand wrapped around Luca’s elbow, tugging him off down one of the aisles.

Dom’s senses immediately went on high alert as Luca dropped one of the bags he held and several plums rolled away. Dom sprinted up the opposite aisle, his brain already mapping out his plan of attack. When he got within reach of the asshole manhandling Luca, he went for the knife in the holster at the waist of his pants. He pulled it free and within seconds had his arm around the man’s neck and the blade at his jugular.

The man froze as Dom’s forearm tightened. “Let him go, you motherfucker, and you’ll live to see the sunset tonight.”

Luca was immediately released. The man’s hands went up in the air.

“I’m sorry. My English no good.”

Dom trailed his eyes down Luca, checking for any injury, as he held his knife in place. “Why’d you grab him?”

“I…I want him to see my cart. My fruit. He is American. I have the best. He should taste.”

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