I was a colossal idiot.
I nearly suggested it might be better if we got married.
That was totally out of left field, De Lucci. What could be more confusing? Every fiber of my being didn’t hesitate to embrace the idea. It was only my logical brain that shut it down. Fortunately, I wasn’t like Nico who speaks before he thinks.
But as I stared at Sera, I wanted to find out everything about this fascinating woman. I wanted to find out why she seemed to worry about Luca instead of letting her uncle worry about her. She worried about everyone around her. She took it upon herself to head the charities her family supported.
Trevor caught my eyes from across the room and nodded.
Our Maine allies were en route to our meeting point.
I turned off my phone because of all the alerts I had been getting from the office. I’d left the running of the company to Nico and Jonas. Mrs. Mancini was anxious for another audience since Dad refused to take her calls. As for Gustavo, I was giving him twenty-four hours to stew.
Dom had the pulse on Santino and the Rossis, so I wasn’t worried on that front and we were clear into our organization’s territory.
What I was too chicken to examine was at what point Sera had become my priority. “We need to go.”
I saw the disappointment on her face as she glanced longingly at the ocean. “I thought we could walk on the beach?”
“There’ll be plenty of opportunities for that. Let me ensure your safety first.”
She gave a small nod and we rose from our table.
One of my men took care of the check, so we piled into our vehicles and headed to the rendezvous point.
We pulled into an unpaved parking lot that visitors used to check out the lighthouse. At this time of the night the area was closed to the public. Not to us though.
Two motorcycles, an old Ford truck, and another SUV were already waiting for us. Ronan McGrath, or simply called Boston, was the leader of the Archer Syndicate of the northern states that included Vermont, Maine, and Massachusetts.
“Stay inside,” I told Sera.
“Who are they?”
“My cousin…”
She squinted. “Really. Are they…?”
“There are things I can’t share with you right now, baby, but trust me, capisce?”
“I don’t see a reason not to trust you,” she said softly. “You fed me the best lobster ever.”
I shook my head, trying not to grin, and gave her a stern look instead. “You’re a big security risk, do you know that?”
“Why, because I love a good lobster roll?”
“I should keep that off your file,” I mumbled, pushing out of the vehicle. I had visions of someone who wanted to kidnap her by dangling a lobster roll in front of her.
As I walked toward my cousin, I quickly wiped the amusement off my face.
“The rumors are true,” Ronan said.
“Cuz,” I said, as we thumped each other on the back. “What rumors?”
“The De Lucci curse has struck again.” The razzing in his tone came through loud and clear.
“The fuck you talking about?” I retorted with no heat in my statement.
“You bring her to a meeting,” Ronan said. “She’s not part of the Syndicate. This tells me you’re serious about involving her.”
“Sorry to dispel that rumor you seem to find so much amusement in,” I said. “But she’s at the center of this meeting.”
He looked past me, and then back at me again. “Got her file. Moretti’s niece, huh? You’ve got some balls on you.”
“Why is everyone treating Moretti like the bogeyman? Anyway, I’d like to take Sera home. She’s tired.”
I greeted the guys on his crew. Some I knew, others I knew by file. Though Ronan had final say who joined his group—soldiers known as Arrows—their information was stored in a central database in the basement of The Grindhouse we called The Grindhouse Underground, or simply The Underground.
I took over as the Archer of Manhattan last year which encompassed many territories all over the world because it was business central. Nico was my lieutenant and Trevor was my sergeant at arms. We were not a club, but an organization that had several factions all over the world. Our goal is simple—make sure organized crime is controlled. Daniel was the Archer of South East Asia, but we worked together frequently because organized crime had become more sophisticated in using big companies for moving products. This was part of our plan to stop the Galluzo mafia from getting too powerful.
But this time it wasn’t business. I still had to let Boston know I was in their territory and needed for them to be aware of what was brewing in Manhattan.
We quickly touched based on the areas that needed extra eyes. Some of his men would be guards at the compound.
Like Dom, Ronan teased me about stealing the Galluzo’s bride.
“Happy for you, cuz,” Ronan said.
“You make it sound like a ball and chain.”
He gave a smirk that I wanted to wipe off his face. Ronan didn’t say much but he’d been less reclusive in the past year. We briefed each other on outstanding issues regarding Archer business.
“Okay, catch you later.” I clasped him around the neck and brought him close. I didn’t realize how much I missed this cousin of mine. The past year had been hectic living up to Dad. After nodding to the rest of the crew, I returned to the Jaguar.
Sera was silent, but I could hear the cogs in her brain clicking.
When we returned to the main road, my convoy turned right with an additional vehicle from Ronan’s crew, while Ronan and the rest of his guys turned left.
It was another thirty-minute drive to the compound. We would be staying a week or so. At least, until Dad and Mom returned from their European trip. I glanced over at Sera, a bit apprehensive.
Was it possible to know a woman yet at the same time know her very little? I couldn’t figure out what end was up or down when it came to her. She was a mystery, and sometimes I felt like she was an open book with her heart on her sleeve.
Speaking of sleeve, my eyes fell to the bracelet she’d been wearing. The same one I noticed from dinner last night.
“What’s on your mind?” Sera asked.
“I could have asked you the same.”
“I asked you first.”
I grinned. “Fair enough. I was thinking about your bracelet.”
“Oh.” Her right hand wrapped around the wrist that was wearing it. “What about it?”
There was a wariness in her tone, almost a defensiveness.
I hoped she didn’t think that I was criticizing its simplicity or its seemingly lack of monetary worth. “I was curious. I couldn’t make out what was on the coin.”
“Oh, it’s St. Rita.”
“St. Rita? The name of the charity running the soup kitchen?”
“Yes. I bought it when I went to Italy. In her hometown.”
Interesting. “You did a pilgrimage?”
“Well, not exactly. I wanted to learn more about her life.”
“And?”
She continued to look at me.
I gave her a brief glance. “What?”
“You’re the only person other than Ivy who has asked me about her.” Her voice cracked, then she inhaled and blew out a breath.
“That’s good though, right?” It was my turn to sound wary.
“Yes, but now I’ll have to really, really like you.”
A chuckle vibrated in my throat and gusted past my lips. “Well, then, I’m all ears. Tell me about her.”
Sera
There was no artifice in Matteo’s question, and I didn’t know why I’d gotten so emotional about it. St. Rita was very close to my heart. I was not a devout Catholic, but she’d been a part of my childhood.
“When I was eight, I had a nanny named Rita,” I said. “She had a very sad face. She had a hard life.” I turned the bracelet over and over. “She had an abusive husband. Physically abusive.”
“Was the husband still alive when she worked for the Morettis?”
“No. He had died the year before. He was a drunk. Liver cirrhosis. Anyway, the nuns of St. Rita took her in. Her birth name wasn’t Rita by the way. She had changed her name because she felt she found her calling by helping out at the soup kitchen.”
“How did she come to work for the Morettis?”
“We were at a charity event one time and Mamma was having one of her nervous…” I caught myself. “Mamma had a terrible time that year.” It had been the first real attempt on Papà’s life. “Miss Rita volunteered at first, and then Mamma became too dependent on her. She told me the stories about St. Rita.”
Matteo made a turn onto a narrow road. The car passed through an unpaved section. He cursed violently when rocks pelted the vehicle. Like all men I knew who loved expensive sports cars, I noticed Matteo treated the Jaguar like his baby.
“We probably should have taken another car,” I laughed.
“I can’t impress a girl with Suburbans,” he muttered.
“The car doesn’t make the man,” I said. “You shouldn’t let it define you.”
“I was kidding, Sera.” There was amusement in his tone.
“I’m not usually this philosophical. You just had me talking about Miss Rita.”
“St. Rita is a patron saint of…abused wives?”
“Not only them, but the impossible and widows. It’s her life that fascinates me because it parallels mine a bit.”
The air turned chilly in the car. “Did your father or Luca abuse you?”
“Oh, no. No.” I blew out a breath.
“When did you lose your parents?”
“When I was ten,” I said.
“Your father and not Luca was supposed to be the boss, right?”
“Emilio Moretti Junior, first wife’s son.” I hadn’t even been born yet when my grandmother died. The merry widower was what they called my grandfather, Emilio Moretti Sr. Luca joked that I was going to be named Emilia Moretti III. “It’s no secret that the Moretti men had a temper. It’s probably what got Papà killed. We were actually surprised Nonno had survived so long when he had made many enemies because of the famous Moretti temper.”
“I’m sorry you lost your parents at a young age.”
“Live by the sword, die by the sword,” I said sadly. “Nonno and Luca made up for my parents’ absence and my nanny was like a mother to me.” I didn’t want him to pity me, so I brought the subject back to something I was comfortable to discuss. “Anyway, I’ve got a story to tell. How much time do we have?”
“I’ll drive in circles if you want me to,” he said.
I gave a short burst of laughter and started my tale of Margherita Lotti. As Matteo drove us to our destination, I told him how she was born to elderly parents, a miracle in itself. She held herself pure and wanted to join the convent. In the end her parents arranged a marriage for her to a noble man who was cruel and abusive. But she was renowned to have humility and patience and had been a good housewife. She made it her mission to convert her husband.
“That is…” Matteo seemed to be at a loss for words. “And you want to be like her?”
“No. I just found parallels that she was able to convert her husband into a better person.”
“I guess that’s admirable.” He side-eyed me. “But is that what your aspiration is in an arranged marriage? Make an asshole like Santino a saint?”
“Of course not!” I retorted. “You’re missing the point.”
“I don’t see you as a meek wife.”
“Being patient is not being meek.”
“Tell me you’re still not considering marrying that bastard.”
“I’m not. I’m with you, aren’t I?”
“Damn right you are.”
Silence reigned for a few seconds before he cast me a brief glance. “That’s it?”
“I don’t think I want to tell you more if you’re going to make fun of me.”
“I wasn’t making fun of your story. I’m just trying to understand your fascination with her.”
“But I’m not blindly following her. In some cases it’s not possible, especially with the way the family works.”
“What do you mean?”
“St. Rita’s husband was murdered. She forgave her husband’s murderer at the funeral. I don’t know if I have that kind of charity in me.”
“You’ll never know until you’re in that situation.”
“True, but…” I cut off.
“But what?”
“Nothing.”
“It’s not nothing. What were you about to say?”
“I don’t think we’re at that point yet.”
He didn’t answer, but I think he understood what I meant. We didn’t talk to outsiders about what went on in the family. According to my uncle, the De Luccis’ businesses were too layered to tell which one was legitimate and which one wasn’t. There was a rumor for years that they had a deal with the Feds and they started a covert organization that policed the underworld. His cousin Ronan’s crew didn’t scream mob soldiers either. They looked to be former military just like Trevor.
“Are we almost there?” I was desperate to be alone. We were not at the point to share family secrets, but we were standing close to its precipice. Like we just needed to make the jump, otherwise we would be forever skirting around an issue that could grow into resentment.
Secrets do that.
“Entrance is coming up,” he said shortly. His tone was clipped.
God, Sera, you’ve only gone on two dates and it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours. He’d been in my life for only a week. But it exposed the kind of problems we could face and why a relationship between us could be tricky.
Loyalties.
That was why there were arranged marriages between mafia families. To preserve alliances and loyalties because without it, betrayals were easier. With marriage, it would be about honor. And one thing I knew from growing up in the family, honor among made men was synonymous with their masculine pride.
When Luca gave his word, I trusted him. I smiled faintly. That was why he rarely gave his word.
