Page 48 of Captured Fantasy

The corner of Lucien’s mouth curled in a snarl and his eyes flashed like a thunderclap.

“Keep your hands off my women, Barone.”

I stepped back, cowed. Lucien put the cigarette to his mouth, all the anger gone from his face. It was a rare sight to see him truly angry and it made an impression.

“Yes, sir,” I said.

“I’m forbidding you from seeing her,” Lucien said, striding to the door and holding it open. “Touch her and I’ll cut your balls off and shove them down your throat.”

I stepped out into the hall. I was tempted to point out that my arranged marriage wouldn’t be very useful to the outfit if I didn’t have balls, but I wasn’t keen on being punched in the face so early in the morning. I nodded once and left the building.

My hands shook with anger as I headed out of town. Instead of going to the warehouses, I drove to the gun range and unloaded as many clips as I could into the paper targets. I wanted to go back to Mrs. Russo’s house, throw her down on her bed, hike her pretty skirts up and take her just to prove a point. The problem was, I didn’t have that kind of fuck-you power. Men like Romano and Lucien had that and up until now I’d had no desire for it.

Now, with rage coursing through my veins, I realized I wanted that kind of unlimited power. I would do whatever it took, I would take every opportunity Lucien offered to climb my way to the top. I would be one of them.

Then I could fuck and marry whomever I pleased.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

LORENZA

The last thing I expected after our night together was for Cosimo to disappear without a word. Christmas came and went and I turned thirty-one in January. There was no one to celebrate with and I wasn’t used to anyone marking my birthday anyway.

I made an apple tart and had coffee alone in the kitchen and watched the snow pile up outside. It didn’t hurt to be alone like this, but there was a faint numbness in my chest. As if the cold outside had pushed its icy fingers through the window and brushed over my skin.

The winter was hell. Watching Amadeo struggle and grieve while his wife grew sicker and sicker by the day was torment. I brought food over almost every week, cleaned their house, walked their dogs, and held Amadeo while he cried once Carolina was in bed upstairs.

Lucien would pick me up and drive me home while I wiped my silent tears in the front seat of his car. Our strange relationship was burning out like a waning ember and I knew it wasn’t long before he faded into the background. Before he politely removed himself from my life.

It was a bitter pill, but not a wholly unexpected one.

I got the call one morning in February. I was fast asleep when the phone rang and I sat up, my heart pounding. Already knowing what it was. Lucien’s cool voice split the silence and my heart dropped to my stomach.

“She’s gone,” he said.

I swallowed, my body going numb. Tears welled in my eyes and I blinked rapidly, trying to get control of myself. “Will you drive me over? Amadeo will need someone.”

“Cosimo is there and I’m going to pick up her parents from the airport now,” Lucien said.

It was probably better that I didn’t see Amadeo until the morning of Carolina’s funeral. I was a mess, crying constantly for the next few days, my face perpetually swollen and my eyes bloodshot. I wept myself to sleep, not just for Carolina, but for everyone I’d ever lost. For every moment that I’d spent grieving someone who’d walked out on me the way that Lucien was preparing to do.

The morning of Carolina’s funeral, I put on the same dress I’d worn to Gino’s service. I did my makeup with bland shades and pinned my hair at the nape of my neck. My hands felt numb as they moved of their own accord. As I put on my coat by the front door, Federico pulled up and we drove in silence to the cemetery by St. Mark’s Chapel outside the city.

It was her wish to be buried in the countryside. The air smelled of snow and the ground was frozen beneath my feet as I climbed the hill to the chapel. There was a large group of men and women from the outfit and from St. Bede’s gathered inside. I took a seat in the very back.

The music was beautiful and the mass was short and simple. I watched Lucien, his brother Duran, Cosimo, Federico, and Paolo’s younger brother, Andrea Venetti, lift the casket and carry it from the church. Amadeo moved past my pew and I met his gaze and he paused. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I pushed them down, forcing myself to be strong for him.

His miserable gaze was heartbreaking. He didn’t look like himself in his long, dark wool coat and there were new lines around his eyes. We stood looking at one another for a long moment and then he held out his hand and I stood quickly and took it. There was a collective shift as everyone rose to follow us out into the bitter cold and gentle snowfall.

Together, Amadeo and I walked just behind the casket all the way up the hill to one of the great oak trees at the top. There was a deep hole dug into the frozen earth, a pile of dirt already dotted with snow beside it. I held Amadeo’s warm hand in a steady grip and he kept his eyes fixed on the lid of his wife’s casket.

I’d tasted the grief he was feeling, but I’d never experienced it so deeply. I’d lost my father, but he’d been ill for years before his death and I’d had time to prepare myself. Gino’s death was sad, but completely expected and we’d never been in love so it stung, but not badly. But Amadeo was beyond devastated. He had lost his great love, his other half, and I knew he would never be the same again.

I left Amadeo with Cosimo who had bloodshot eyes and barely met my gaze as I turned to go. Lucien drove me home from the funeral. He was quiet and his face was drawn, faint lines running down the side of his face. He always radiated such steady energy and drive that I sometimes forgot he was human beneath it all.

In the house, we had coffee and I knew it was the last time. My heart pumped slow in my chest and there was a dry lump in my throat when he stood up. His fingers brushed my hair back, studying my face with his ice cold eyes.

“Death is hard,” he said. “But it’s only hard for the ones that get left behind.”

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