The Mafia Boss Who Captivated Me

MIA

Scooping baby Micah up from his play mat, I give him a squeeze. I've been here for over a week now, and I've barely gotten to spend any time with him.

"Hey, buddy. Your Uncle Lorenzo has been hogging my baby cuddles the whole time I've been here."

"Dada," he squeals, showing off his single tooth with a drooly grin.

Kat sidles up behind me, enunciating the syllables of my name. "Mee-uh."

"Dada," he repeats, clapping his hands with delight.

Kat rolls her eyes dramatically. "He's been saying dada for three weeks now, and he still refuses to say anything else."

"That's because his daddy is his favorite person in the world," Dante says, walking straight to his wife and wrapping her in his arms. He gives her a soft kiss on the lips, and she leans into him. The contented look on her face warms my heart. She had a shit time of it before she met him, and she deserves every ounce of happiness coming her way.

Kat looks up at Dante and smirks. "Try telling him that when he's screaming for a boob."

He nuzzles her neck and whispers something for her ears only judging by the way her cheeks turn red and she giggles. After a few seconds, she pushes him away. "We have a guest," she scolds. "Mia isn't a guest. She's family. Right?" He directs the question to me.

"Right," I agree. "But that reminds me. I want to be helpful while I'm here. You guys have any jobs that need doing? Anyone got any muscle pain they need fixing?" I ask with a self-deprecating shrug. Dante's brow furrows and he looks from me to Kat. "Muscle pain?"

"Mia's a trained and certified massage therapist," my cousin explains.

"Really? Huh. Lorenzo's had a stiff neck for a few weeks. He insists on sleeping on the sofa instead of in a bed."

Kat turns to face Dante, her features etched with concern. "He's still doing that?"

Dante nods, his brow furrowing.

Why is Lorenzo sleeping on the sofa? I don't ask that question out loud though because it seems impolite to ask them about Lorenzo's sleeping arrangements instead of asking him myself. "I'll see if he'll let me take a look. But is there anything else I can help with? Babysitting? Office work? Cleaning?"

"You don't have to do any of that, Mia. We have an army of staff here." Her cheeks flush. Before she married into the Moretti family, she cleaned office buildings, and she still isn't comfortable with having people pick up after her. Dante and Kat share a look. "Actually, I think there is something you can help with."

Yes! I knew there must be a way I could earn my keep around here while staying occupied. "I'll do anything."

"We sold our old family home a few months back and a lot of my mom's old papers, pictures, and books are still in boxes. Lorenzo and I were going to sort through it all, but we never seem to have the time. Could you take a look and try to find everything a new home in our library? The entire place is a bit of a mess to be honest, and you'll probably have to reconfigure the whole room to fit everything in, but there should be enough space."

"It would be my pleasure. That sounds like exactly the kind of project I'd be good at." Organization, books, and photographs are three of my favorite things. "And I'm so impressed you guys have a library here. I feel like I just dropped into Beast's castle." I laugh softly.

"Well, the only beast you'll find in our library is Lorenzo." Dante chuckles. "He usually works in there instead of in our study."

Kat gives me a conspiratorial grin. "Here's a pro tip-if he gets super grumpy, he can be calmed down with a huge slice of caramel cheesecake."

Dante rolls his eyes. "He and Kat have a particular thing for one of the bakeries downtown that I will never understand."

I nod my agreement and flash him a knowing smirk. Oh, I'm well aware of my cousin's cheesecake habit.

"Only because you don't like sweet things." Kat nudges him in the ribs, and he slides his hand down to her ass.

"I like some sweet things, kitten."

She blushes beet-red again and I turn away, talking to Micah and peppering his downy head with kisses because his parents look like they're about to need the room to themselves. Kat's voice has me turning my attention back to her. "Anyway, help yourself to the books in there. I added my own special section," she adds with a pop of one eyebrow.

I waggle my eyebrows back. "Oh?"

"You enjoy reading porn too, Mia?" Dante asks with a wicked grin.

I cover Micah's ear with my hand, mouth wide open as I feign my horror at his father's denigration of mine and his mom's reading material.

"It's smut," Kat insists.

"We've been reading cliterature since we were fourteen and we first discovered Anne Rice's Sleeping Beauty series," I say in defense of the finest genre of books to ever be created.

"Cliterature." He snorts a laugh and Kat gives him another dig in the ribs.

We're saved from the rest of the conversation by Max walking into the room. He greets Kat and me then he looks to Dante. "You ready, compagno?"

Dante sighs. "I hate the Strauss brothers."

"I know. But if we send Lorenzo..."

Dante finishes his sentence. "We'll be cleaning up bits of brain from the casino carpet for weeks."

I press my lips together and squeeze Micah a little tighter to my chest. Bits of brain? Surely Lorenzo isn't that crazy? Right?

***

A familiar piano tune carries down the hallway as I approach the library, growing louder the closer I get. The song is being played so beautifully and hauntingly that it makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. It's only when I'm standing outside the room that I realize it isn't a recording. Someone is actually playing the piano.

Lorenzo? I press my forehead against the door and listen to the soft melody grow louder and more insistent the longer he plays. Tears stream down my face as the pain in the notes, played so perfectly, washes over me.

A sob catches in my throat, and I can't resist opening the door. Engrossed in the tune, he doesn't hear me come in. His fingers glide effortlessly over the keys. Such talent. Where did he learn to play so beautifully? I watch him, transfixed, feeling like a voyeur by intruding on this private moment, but I'm unable to turn away. His head is bent low so I can't see his face, but I feel the anguish in his every keystroke.

I wipe a tear from my cheek and the movement must alert him to my presence because he stops playing and turns to me.

I walk over to him, wringing my hands. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you, but Dante asked me to sort through your mom's books and things. And then I heard you playing, and it was so beautiful and-"

"It's fine," he grunts, waving a dismissive hand and closing the lid of the piano.

"You play beautifully."

He doesn't respond. Instead he glares at me so fiercely that I feel like I might burst into flames.

"It's really hard to play Tchaikovsky. I've tried," I add with a weak laugh.

His eyes narrow. "You know that song?"

Just a heads up: is the only place to read the complete version of this book for free. Don't miss out on the next chapter-visit us now and continue your journey!

"Flight of the Swans?' Of course. It's from the most famous ballet ever."

Looking down, he rubs a hand over his beard. "It was Anya's favorite."

I pluck up the courage to step closer. "Where did you learn to play like that?"

"My mom taught me."

"She must have been a good teacher."

A faint smile flickers over his lips. "She was."

"You don't have to stop on my account. I can come back later, or you can play while I work. You really do play exceptionally well. It was very"-a sob builds in my throat, and I swallow it down quickly-"moving." He shakes his head. "I don't play for anyone else."

"Did you play for her? For Anya?"

He looks past me, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows hard. Finally, he nods. She was a lucky woman to have the love of a man like him. I'd voice that, but he wouldn't take kindly to me referring to his dead wife as lucky, so I remain uncharacteristically quiet.

He stands abruptly. "I'll leave you to get on with whatever you're doing."

I remain frozen to the spot, staring up at him as I feel a tugging on my heartstrings. It's my fault he stopped playing, and now he's leaving and I desperately want to ask him to stay. I'm sure that his wife's favorite song brings him some comfort, and now he looks so sad and lonely. But I also want him to stay because I feel something in his presence, something I haven't felt in such a long time that I don't even know how to describe it. Safe? Seen?

With a shake of my head, I clear my throat, aware that I'm staring at him like a moron. "I-I'll be working in here for the next few weeks I guess, depending on how much there is to sort through and organize. So, if there's times you like to be alone in here, then I can work around you, or ..." Squeezing my lips shut, I stop babbling.

His brow furrows in a frown. "Or?"

I chew on my lip. "Or, um. I kind of like company when I work, so don't ever feel like you can't be in here just because I am." Why did I say that? This is his house. Of course he knows he can be in here whenever he wants. Moron! His frown deepens into a scowl, and I feel even more stupid than I did a few seconds ago. Without another word, he stalks out of the room, leaving me to let out the breath I was holding.

Well. That was awkward.Têxt belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.

I glance around the room, eyeing the huge pile of boxes in the corner. Slipping off my shoes, I flex my toes on the warm wooden floor beneath my feet. I was so focused on Lorenzo, I failed to notice my incredible surroundings when I walked in here. I know I joked about Beast's castle, but this library really is like something from a fairytale. Three walls are lined with floor-to-ceiling shelves, most of which are crammed full of books. There's a ladder on each wall-the kind that has wheels and is attached to the bookcases. I brush my fingers along the spines as I pass by, noting the rare first editions and leather-bound encyclopedias. It's marvelous. I could spend six years here and not get bored. Stepping further into the room, I blink at the sunlight filling the space thanks to the massive sash windows.

Wandering to the large oak desk beneath the window, I run my fingers over the wood and smile to myself, imagining Lorenzo sitting here, head bent low and brow furrowed as he works, while I'm sorting through his mom's things in the corner. Although given the scowl on his face when he walked out of here a few moments ago, that's not likely to happen any time soon.