Page 72 of Luciano (Belles & Mobsters 1)

I shook my head in disbelief.

“Little traitor,” Ella called out softly.

Everyone around the table chuckled, and I shook my head. Completely unexpected evening. I caught Nonno’s look, watching his son and grandson. Deep inside, I knew without a doubt that Nonno knew Matteo was a Vitale. He knew he was looking at his grandson.

Decidedly pushing that suspicion away, I glanced at Ella. It didn’t escape me that Luciano’s friends observed Ella and I for any and all movements. Like they were studying us.

I sat back down. Taking the glass of wine off the table, I took a sip.

“Whatever. As long as he eats.” I leaned back into my seat and watched in amazement. “Yep, you can feed him for the rest of dinner. I’m taking a break.”

Luciano’s and Matteo’s eyes raised to me, the identical mischief in them, and my heartbeat got stuck in my throat. Father and son. Luciano actually winked at me.

“We’ll show her how good we eat. Won’t we, Matteo?” Luciano murmured softly to his son, and suddenly my heart twisted in agony. He would be a good father. Just not a good husband, because he hated the Romano family. I couldn’t even blame him. “Then you’ll grow big and strong. Sì?”

Matteo grinned and nodded eagerly.

I blinked hard. Shit, not a good time to get teary eyed. I was scared to even think what Luciano would do, if he knew Matteo was his son.He’ll find out soon either way.

I had to settle my nerves. Taking another sip of my wine, my eyes traveled to my best friend. The expression on her face was one of disbelief too.

“I guess you were wrong, Grace,” Ella announced. “Luciano is good for one thing. Feeding toddlers their veggies.”

I felt heat rushed to my cheeks. I glared at her. Why would she say something like that? The table chuckled, but it didn’t escape me that Luciano’s eyes were on me, although I tried to avoid his gaze.

“I could remind you a few more things I am good at,” he offered.

“No, thanks,” I answered quickly.

I’d have to talk to Ella about traitors. What was she trying to accomplish with that comment?

The rest of the dinner was quite uneventful. Luciano and his friends talked about their casino business, nightclubs, and stuck to neutral subjects. Ella and I mainly observed rather than commented. Not that we shared much of anything with these men.

Well, except for laundering money and trying to kill a few individuals. But those were forced circumstances for the two of us.

Before dessert, Luca got a text and left soon after. Nico and Alessio followed shortly after. I kept waiting for Cassio to clear out, but he remained behind. He made me nervous. He tried hard to appear non-threatening and that made him even more dangerous. I knew Ella felt the same. We felt like we were in the middle of a vipers’ nest, among all these mobsters.

How many of these men participated in the belles and mobsters’ arrangements?

I caught Ella shifting uncomfortably again, and my eyes trailed back to her. We understood each other well enough for me to know she would make an excuse. I nodded, understanding her completely.

“I have some stuff to take care of,” she mumbled. “Thanks for dinner.”

She didn’t even wait for an answer but rushed out of there, Massimo on her tail. She told me he has been questioning her about what we had done for the last three years. Digging for information. He was an idiot if he thought just because she slept with him, she’d divulge any information. Although it made me regret she had to keep her guard up. She deserved happiness.

My eyes lingered on Matteo, now happily eating gelato since he ate all his dinner. Would he remember me if my uncle got his hands on me now? Probably not. He was too young. My parents were killed when I was twelve, but at least I had those twelve years of memories. Twelve years of complete, sheer happiness.

“You know Grace,” Cassio’s voice interrupted my gloomy thoughts. “Not all of us are bad.”

“Huh?”

“We might run the underworld, but we aren’t all bad.”

I regarded him pensively. It was an odd statement to make. Was he trying to tell me he knew about the arrangement my family had and disagreed with it? Or he disagreed with human trafficking in general? Or something entirely different?

“Okay, so tell me who is bad and who isn’t?” I asked him.

His lips turned into a smirk.

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