Page 92 of Luciano (Belles & Mobsters 1)

“No.” Stubbornness was one of my weaknesses. It was something my mother and father always told me.

My grandmother shifted her gaze behind me. “Take her to her room.”

One of the housekeepers gently nudged me, and I followed her into the house with a relieved breath. My body shivered as I followed the maid’s rushed steps, whether because of cold or fear, I wasn’t sure.

This place would never be home. I knew it the moment I stepped my foot through the door.

Two days later, I found my album burning in the fireplace, and along with it, every single, happy piece of my childhood.

I straightened and raised my chin, shoving all my fears into a dark corner of my mind. We could do this; Ella and I didn’t survive the last three years to cower now.

“Ready?” Ella whispered next to me.

“No, but we’ll get it done anyhow,” I murmured, under my breath.

I strode through the room, like I owned it, placing a smile on my face.

“Ah, Miss Romano, so nice to see you.” It was my grandmother’s bodyguard, Charles. He knew very well I was married.

“It is Mrs. Vitale.” Luciano’s voice came behind me, startling me. They must have taken a direct route to my grandmother’s to get here so quickly.

I glanced behind me to find him with Cassio, Nico, Massimo, and Luca. There was also a couple, and a man I hadn’t recognized before. I should have objected to Luciano’s interruption, but I was glad to see him there. He was the lesser of two evils.

Charles ignored him. “Your grandmother will be pleased to see you.”

He strode away, and I exhaled a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Fancy seeing you here, wife.”

“Why?” I retorted back. “After all, I used to live here. Remember?” They were the worst years of my life but no sense dwelling on that now. My eyes travelled over the group. “And you all are here, why?” I questioned them with a raised eyebrow. All of them watched me, like they were debating whose side I was on.

My son’s side. My side. Ella’s side.I’d ensure we’d get out of this alive.Somehow.

My eyes traveled to a young woman and her companions. It was obvious those three came together. Her dark hair and brown eyes complemented their blonde features. It was an odd contrast, but it worked in their favor. My eyes traveled over her slim features, and I only now noticed she was pregnant. The swell of her belly attractively accented her soft features.

She looked small, too frail and short next to the two tall and stocky men. They both looked like some damn MMA fighters, their large frames towering over the woman. Those two men had to be brothers with the eyes they shared, the palest blue eyes I had ever seen. Even their facial structure was similar. She held hands with one of them, leading me to believe they were an item. And the way that guy held her protectively told me he’d kill anyone that even dared look at her wrong.

The other man stood on the other side of her. But unlike the other guy that only had tattoos on his hands, this guy was all tatted up. He even had tattoos on his face. In fact, every visible inch of skin displayed striking and beautiful ink. He looked scary and beautiful at the same time.

“Grace, this is Vasili Nikolaev and his wife Isabella. They live in New Orleans.” Ah, another mobster! I should have known. “And Alexei Nikolaev is Isabella’s brother.”

I frowned. “Ummm, incest?” Shit, did I say that out loud?

The tattooed guy growled, and instinctively, I took a step backwards, right into the hard, marble chest of my husband. “No, not incest,” the beautiful, face-tattooed guy answered darkly. “Isabella and I are half-siblings by my mother.”

“Alexei and I share a father,” Vasili deadpanned. At least he wasn’t growling at me. “It’s a bit complicated.“

“Yeah, family tends to be pretty damn complicated,” I muttered.

Alexei nodded, as if agreeing. I wondered what their story was. I bet they didn’t have some historical agreement of selling their daughters hanging over their necks.

My eyes indulged, traveling over his ink and inventorying each visible tattoo. From the ones on his face, the ink peeking above his starched white dress shirt, down to his tattooed hands and knuckles. Fuck, he was beautiful. I never cared much for tattoos until Luciano. But this man took ink to a whole new level. The ink on this man, it packaged the cruelty etched on his face, the art and ruthlessness, into one fine, deadly specimen.

“Grace, you have come back.” The interruption came in the form of my grandmother’s cold voice. My mouth pressed into a thin line, and something in Alexei’s eyes told me he understood exactly where I was coming from.

My heart rate sped up and anxiety kicked up a notch, but I kept it hidden. After all, I got really good at hiding my emotions since I started living under my grandmother’s roof.

She offered me her cheek to kiss in greeting. I leaned in stiffly to kiss the offering and felt like Judas. Because I came to kill her. But I remembered the lesson well from the last time when I refused to kiss her cheek. She starved me for two days. It wasn’t something easily forgotten.

“Grandma,” I murmured.

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