Page 6 of Luciano (Belles & Mobsters 1)

“We are living the life,” Ella agreed, turning over onto her stomach and promptly drifting off to sleep. That girl lived for sunbathing.

Yes, life is good now. Even if the business was to go away, we were financially set for several years before we’d run out of money. If we could keep this going for another three years, we could stop doing it and just live the rest of our lives doing little jobs here and there. We’d still be set, and Matteo would never go hungry.

“Matteo, come here so Mommy can put sunblock on you,” I called out to my son.

He abandoned his little sand digging and walked over with a big grin. His hazel eyes watched me with love and trust while his dark hair ruffled under the light breeze. God, how he reminded me of his father.

The familiar dull pain throbbed in my chest, but it was gone quickly. I had worked hard to forget the pain and loss of his father. My son was a reminder, but in a good way. I liked to think of my husband as he could have been if he wasn’t corrupted by all the events in his life.

I squeezed the lotion into my hands and applied it over his exposed skin. Matteo had a year-round tan, just like his father. But I was paranoid and used lots of sunscreen. If I could, I’d put Matteo into a secure bubble, but I knew it would fail. My parents tried that with me, and it didn’t work out. They only succeeded in making me weak. I wouldn’t repeat that with my own son. Instead, I’d make him strong. He could be good and still take no shit from anyone. I wouldn’t let my son grow up to be gullible or defenseless like I was.

“Okay, you are all set,” I told him, placing a smooch on his cheek. He immediately giggled. “Want help building your sand hole?”

“Sì,” he replied in Italian.

“Okay, my little Italian man. Let’s go build.”

He handed me his extra sand shovel and we both got to work. He babbled all along, half in English and half in Italian. Most of it, I couldn’t understand. It didn’t help that he babbled Italian in baby talk. I’ve been trying to learn Italian to keep up with Matteo, but I was failing miserably. Or Matteo learned at a much faster pace than me. Still, I didn’t let any of it deter me.

“You know the waves are going to crash into our masterpiece in the next half hour.” I followed his gaze to the sea, watching him frown. “But the good news is that we can come back tomorrow and do it all over again.”

He grinned and my heart melted for my little guy.

“What should we do for dinner, huh?” I asked him.

“Pizza.”

“Oh, I think that is a marvelous idea,” I agreed. “ Should we go to Zio Juno or Neptuno?”

“Juno, Mamma.”

I smiled. I knew Juno would be his answer. They had a little girl Matteo’s age that always came out to play with him each time we ate there.

“I agree. Okay, Juno it is. We’ll tell Aunt Ella when she wakes up.”

I glanced at Ella. She still laid in the exact same position. “Woman, you are going to burn like a crab,” I shouted to her laughing.

She stirred and got up. Her beach tan and blonde hair made her look gorgeous. Like a real beach babe. I wished I could tan as beautiful as her. I constantly applied sunscreen to prevent sunburn. My natural ginger red hair combined with my fair skin made it hard to get a decent tan. Although I colored my hair brown, it didn’t take away from my fair skin tone. When we first arrived in Italy, I was so envious of everyone’s tan. But I quickly got over it. It wasn’t as if I could do anything about it.

“I’m hungry,” she announced.

“Ah, yes. Matteo and I decided we would go to Zio Juno. It is pizza day. What do you think?”

She immediately grinned. “That’s a great idea.”

Chapter Three

Luciano

It wasn’t until early morning hours that I finally went to bed.

The trap was laid. Every table last night was strategically placed. There was a good reason why I sat Alphonso Romano next to the Columbians. He was a greedy bastard, and I knew he couldn’t resist jumping on a deal. It was exactly what I wanted him to do. Raphael would play along as if his father’s flesh moving business was still alive and offer a deal to Alphonso. The bastard would take him up on it and promise a shipment to Benito King along with an advance payment. He would end up empty-handed because Raphael would never deliver him women to sell. His sister, Isabella Nikolaev, would never speak to him if he ventured into it. And just like that - Alphonso Romano would be squirming like a little rat, knowing Benito King never gave second chances. But not to worry - I’d kill him before Benito because I would ensure his torture was long and detailed.

Money traded hands multiple times, and I made more than enough from all of them. It was what I was good at. It was the reason why the Vitale family has owned New Jersey and parts of the city for the last two centuries. We were good at making money. We owned every crime family that operated in the city, along with most of the buildings. Laundering money for crime families gave insights to their secrets. Not that I cared about them - as long as it didn’t fuck with my family and my friends.

I itched to speed things along, but I knew each wrong move on my chessboard could cost me. Alphonso had information I needed. I needed to know where his niece was, where my wife was. Once he was ensnared by the Columbians, and I had him exactly where I wanted him, I’d burn the Romano family to the ground. As if they never existed. They’d be wiped off this planet.

I peeled off my three-piece suit and headed for my bathroom. Turning on the water, I stepped into the palatial shower in my master bath. I let the water wash the night away. I wished it would wash away this anger and frustration that brimmed inside me, ready to boil over.

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