Page 93 of Captured Fantasy

Lucien’s lids flickered in his version of a shrug. I was used to it now, trying to read all his micro expressions.

“I meant I need you to be an example.” Lucien stepped forward. “An example of loyalty to me. Don’t do anything stupid, don’t get reckless, and don’t go against me.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now, until I can figure out what to do with your father, we’re keeping your appointment under wraps.”

I didn’t much care what he did with my father so I left him to mull it over alone. Later that day, we gathered in the Romano mansion and Lucien spoke with the men. I was surprised by the sudden turn in loyalty to him. There was a tangible sigh of relief that I hadn’t expected, but then I hadn’t known Carlo Romano well. The younger generation of men, fifty and below, were almost celebratory. For the older generation, all it took was for Lucien to flip his switch and suddenly he was charming them over drinks.

Life in the outfit was chaos for the next several days. Lucien was distracted, trying to keep a handle on his men, and he was working me harder than ever. There was a break-in at one of the warehouses in January and I didn’t have time to visit Lorenza more than once that month. It killed me, every second I wasn’t in her bed.

The break-in wasn’t Russians because the Russians were on our side now, locked in an alliance with us through Lucien’s cousin. I was beginning to think he was right that this was a government hit like the first time. It bothered Lucien, I could tell, and it bothered me too. I’d secured that building with my own hands, spending weeks on it, and it pissed me off someone had been able to get through our defenses. They hadn’t taken anything, but there was a broken glass in the middle of the floor. Set up like some kind of fucking message for me to find.

I took photos of everything, including the glass, and uploaded them to the work drive for Lucien to look over. Then I stationed myself outside the warehouse, had a cigarette, and looked up at the cold sky overhead.

It was around nine in the morning when my phone buzzed. I jerked awake, my body stiff against the cold, metal door, and felt my pockets. There was a text from Lucien. I skimmed it and my stomach dropped.

I need you in my home office.

He hadn’t specified a time so I changed guards and went back to my condo for a shower and an espresso. I changed into a suit and my overcoat and took my car across the bridge to the Esposito mansion. The house was quiet as I walked up the drive, everything covered in snow and ice. A small, black dog came tearing around the side of the house and began barking at me, turning and squealing when I held out my hand. It was most likely Olivia or Iris’s, as I couldn’t imagine Lucien wanting a dog.

The maid opened the door and let me into the hall. She looked nervous as she took my coat and disappeared into closet. When she reappeared, she kept her eyes to the ground.

“Mr. Esposito is in his office upstairs. He said to go on up,” she whispered.

“Thank you, miss,” I said, turning to head up the spiral staircase.

Lucien’s office door was open. I knocked and he looked up, beckoning me inside. He had a cup of coffee on his desk and he wore gray pants and a white button-up. They were unusually disheveled, as though he’d just woken up and thrown them on, which he probably had. I closed the door and crossed to the desk.

“You called for me,” I said.

Lucien nodded once, his expression made of stone, but the corner of his mouth slightly turned up. He leaned back and tented his fingers, his eyes on his laptop screen. I studied him, confused by the conflicting emotions on his face.

“I’m going to announce your appointment as my right hand today,” he said, his voice weary. “I’ve already spoken with your father.”

“Oh,” I said, relieved. “Alright.”

Lucien pinched the bridge of his nose. “Before we make it official, we need to have a talk.”

I sank into the seat opposite him, my mind whirling. “Yes, sir.”

He lifted his head, fixing his cold gaze on me. I forced myself not to squirm in my seat. Finally, he sighed, as if he were trying to contain himself, to hold something back. I stared at him, trying to read the myriad of emotions flickering in the corners of his eyes.

“I don’t really know how to go about this honestly,” Lucien said. “On one hand, I’m impressed at the balls on you, Barone. On the other, you’re a fucking disobedient underboss and that’s a problem.”

My chest tightened. “Sir, I’m not following.”

Lucien stood and lit a cigarette, brushing back his dark hair. When he turned to the window, I noticed there was a little bruise beneath his ear. I fought the urge to laugh out loud, turning it into a cough. Lucien looked at me sharply, eyes narrowing.

“Care to share?” he asked coolly.

“No, sir, I’m good with not sharing,” I said.

“No, please,” Lucien said.

I touched my neck in the same spot. “You have…something there.”

Lucien moved to the mirror in the corner of the room and turned his head. I thought I saw a flicker of a smile, a little jerk of the corner of his mouth.

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