I met Ivy at our favorite coffee shop in Greenwich Village. Rocco and Tony were loitering around somewhere. I couldn’t see them but I knew they were there.
The summer humidity that blanketed the city had lifted, leaving the exhaust from the subway to dissipate into cool crisp air, a perfect morning to sit at the outdoor patio and enjoy urban living.
“I can’t believe it was in the fifties this morning,” I told Ivy, admiring the latte art on my cappuccino before taking a sip.
“And I can’t believe we’re talking about the weather,” my friend said without looking up at me, balancing her phone in one hand while arranging her coffee mug for the best angle with the other. “Now, quiet. I’m showing my followers that I’m still on keto coffee.”
“That’s an abomination,” I groaned as I watched her dump a teaspoon of coconut oil into her brew. It didn’t taste bad. Still, Italians were picky about their java and my purist heart couldn’t help cringing.
Ivy flipped the camera at me who she named as her secondary character before switching the lens back to her. “Day forty-five on keto coffee. Has anyone tried this yet? I feel lighter and less bloated.”
I withheld a snort of derision. She was complaining about the hangover from hell this morning. Trying to hide my amusement, I picked up my giant croissant and was about to take a bite when two figures caught my attention.
I blinked.
Matteo and Nico De Lucci.
After Matteo crashed the gala last night, Ivy had given me the latest deets on them. With the Wheeler publicity machine at her disposal, my friend was up to date with the movers and shakers of Wall Street. The tabloids called them The Broody Brothers because of those piercing stares that made half the women in Manhattan drop their panties for. Not to mention the way these brothers prowled the boardroom while poured into exquisitely tailored suits had frequently set hearts atwitter in the world of high finance. Also, according to Ivy, Matteo’s girlfriends never lasted three months while Nico preferred older women.
This morning Nico was in gray sweatpants and a loose white tee. Matteo was in dark jeans and a dark T-shirt emblazoned with faded gold and red print. Their thick hair was combed back, but I couldn’t help noticing how locks fell over Matteo’s forehead. He raked it back with his fingers but the wayward curl wouldn’t cooperate. Casual outfits failed to subdue their imposing presence judging by how pedestrians turned their heads and lowered their shades to gawk as though Greek gods had descended from Mt. Olympus.
“How did they know we were here?” I asked.
Ivy finished her video, then squinted at the rapidly approaching pair. “My brother.” She typed into her phone.
“Is your brother trying to set me up?”
“Asking him.”
My heart sank. If Daniel liked me, would he give up my location to the De Luccis so willingly?
My friend made an annoyed sound and swiped a number. I heard Daniel come on the line. “Well, why did you?”
Whatever her brother was saying invited displeasure on my friend’s face. “You were christened the Tiger of Hong Kong real estate. You’re giving yourself a bad reputation if you caved to the De Luccis.”
I could hear laughter over the phone. Ivy snapped, “I don’t care if raptors trump tigers, you shouldn’t have given us up to these De Luccis.”
She timed that statement just as the guys reached our table.
While Ivy arched one of her brows to the highest I’d ever seen it reach, I hid my annoyance behind my coffee cup.
The guys didn’t even ask if they could join us. They simply took the seats in front of us.
“What’s good here?” Matteo eyed the croissant in my hand.
“Not my croissant,” I retorted, holding it away from him.
“Now, is that the way to talk to your future boyfriend?”
“You’re delusional.”
“What?” Ivy gasped, her accusation directed at me. “What happened last night?”
Our server saved me from answering when she waltzed to our table. She might have batted her eyelashes at the De Lucci boys, I wouldn’t know, but by the way she cocked her hip against our table, she had the whole flirty pose down.
“Welcome to Spiked,” she chirped and handed them menus. “Coffee?”
“Ladies?” Matteo asked, but he was looking at me. “Want anything else? A refill?”
“I’m good,” I said before taking a bite of my croissant. When I lowered it, I moved my plate away from the maddening man.
My face was reflected on his sunglasses and I was irritated I couldn’t see the expression in his eyes.
Rude.
“Two shots of espresso,” Nico said, removing his wayfarers and setting them carefully on the table.
“Same,” Matteo said, and as if sensing his shades were the reason for my less than friendly reception, he took them off and the intensity of his brilliant blue eyes stole my words. I thought they were inky last night, but this morning, wow.
His brother scanned the menu, but took a peek between Ivy and me. “What’s good here besides not-your-croissant?”
“What happened last night?” Ivy repeated. She was glaring at Nico.
He shrugged. “I’m just here to eat breakfast, Poison Ivy.”
Oooh, I could feel my friend’s hackles rise, but I trusted Ivy to hold her own. She leaned in and purred, “As much as I love her character, I don’t know you enough to appreciate that nickname.” With that retort, she turned to me and dismissed Nico. “Is there something I should know?”
Matteo quirked a brow, challenging me to answer, so I said, “Apparently, he’s been harboring a secret crush on me.”
I dared him to deny it. Nico started chuckling, apparently amused by my answer while his brother sat silent.
“Really?” Ivy leaned back and split a glance between them. “And this has nothing to do with the deal you and Daniel are fighting for control over?”
“How unromantic,” Nico scoffed. “You’re saying your friend is not beautiful enough to catch my brother’s attention?”
“That’s not what I’m saying,” Ivy retorted.
Finally, Matteo reacted, frowning at his brother. “Bro, you’re ruining my chances. Shut up.”
“Don’t worry.” I tore another piece of the pastry and stuffed it in my mouth. “I do not aspire to become desirable to a De Lucci.”
Matteo’s gaze whipped back in my direction. “Sounds like a challenge.”
“Are you guys ready to order?” The waitress came back and the scowl on Matteo’s face made the woman falter…“Or not.”
“He is.” I grabbed the menu out of his hands. “He’ll have the eggs Benedict with bacon and a side of pancakes.”
The scowl disappeared, smoothed away by surprised mirth judging by the twitching corners of his mouth. “I will?”
“Yes.” I hoped he liked eggs.
Our server glanced at me as though unsure.
“Whatever the girlfriend says,” he said.
Damn. Did I just consign myself to be his girlfriend?
Nico put in his order of a dozen egg whites and pancakes.
I thought my bossiness in ordering for him would bring him down a notch or two as well as let him know I wasn’t a pushover who he could steamroll into doing anything he wanted. I equated these De Luccis to my uncle. Arrogant and wanting to be at the top of the food chain. The apex, the alphas. They identified weaknesses and moved in for the kill.
Fortunately for me, Luca didn’t want me to show weakness. I guessed because I represented the family, so he conditioned me not to be meek at all. I was in high school when I experienced my first broken heart, courtesy of a popular boy in school. Luca shamed me for my tears and I was mad at him for a while. Maybe that toughened me up, taught me how to hide my feelings, fake it until I make it. If that was what saved me from throwing myself at Daniel, then I should be thankful.
“I was saving our server from you,” I told him. “You had a scary scowl on your face.”
His brows drew together.
“See?” My lips twitched.
Ivy whispered conspiratorially but loud enough for them to hear. “Broody Brothers.”
I laughed, but caught myself when Matteo had this strange look on his face.
“Are we letting them make fun of us?” Nico demanded in a voice where I didn’t know whether he was offended or not.
“What are they doing here?” Tony and Rocco showed up at our table. I forgot they were around.
“Some bodyguards you have,” Matteo muttered. He addressed my uncle’s soldiers. “We’ve been here for a while. Luca should fire you.”
“He can’t fire us because we’re—” Tony broke off. He was about to say made which meant he was an initiated member of the mafia, and it was frowned upon to admit outside the family and in public.
Matteo grinned and stared at his empty espresso cup. He’d made his point. The asshole.
“Luca said to keep him away from you,” Rocco said.
“You want to start a brawl right here?” Nico challenged, unperturbed.
“Please don’t,” I told Matteo’s brother.
I pointed my chin at Tony and Rocco. “I’m fine. Besides, Ivy knows kung fu if these two misbehave.”
“But, Sera—” Tony started.
Matteo was about to say something, but I kicked him under the table. “My family, my problem.”
I stood from the table and walked around Matteo to get to Tony and Rocco, herding them out of earshot. “I can handle him.”
“The boss is not going to like this,” Tony said.
“You’re not going to tell Luca.”
“No can do—”
“You know what’s going to happen. Luca’s going to ask where you guys were, and then what are you going to say?”
Tony narrowed his eyes. “We were doing as you asked. Giving you privacy with Miss Wu. So you can have a piece of normalcy before—”
“Before what? Uncle dearest marries me off?”
“He’s not going to force you. Luca is not that old-fashioned.”
“Good, but it doesn’t change the fact that the De Lucci brothers managed to slip past you.”
“You’re using your request against us?”
“Why not? You snitched on me.”
Both men glanced at each other.
“She’s getting too manipulative,” Rocco said.
“She’s always been that way,” Tony replied. “I pity her future husband.”
“Come on, you two, don’t tell Luca. I’ll get rid of Matteo.”
Tony glanced past me to look at the De Luccis. “All right, but we’ll be close by.”
“Fine.” I might have heard them mutter that I was a pain in the ass.
I was fond of my minders, but sometimes they were a pain in my butt too. Though I was used to it, I wished Luca would be done with whatever bullshit business he had that necessitated the extra guards. When I was in college, every once in a while, a couple of soldiers would appear and guard me for a couple of weeks depending on the war Chicago had with other players in the underworld.
“They’re not very good bodyguards,” Matteo commented when I returned to my seat.
“Not that it’s any of your business but it’s upon my request that they give me space.”
“Things are hot in Chicago right now?” he asked.
I ignored him and tore another piece from my croissant which seemed to be less than when I’d left it. I refused to acknowledge he stole a bite. Nico and Ivy were embroiled in their own discussion about martial arts. It seemed he didn’t believe Ivy really knew kung fu and was making smart-ass commentary questioning her skill. I let my friend handle him. Ivy really knew how to spar. Wing Chun something. Besides, I needed my wits about me with his brother.
When I didn’t answer, Matteo tipped his chin to the croissant. “It’s airy with good layers.”
“Airy?” I expected him to say something asinine like it was buttery and immediately felt guilty about forming prejudices about him.
He shrugged as if the word wasn’t weird coming out of his mouth. “My brother Lorenzo owns a café-bakery. He made sure he educated us on that shit.”
What didn’t they own?
“Fair enough.”
“You should come by.”
“Thanks for the invite, but I’ll be heading back to Chicago.” In reality, I was planning to stay in New York for a few weeks, but he didn’t need to know that.
“Well, that’s a bummer.” Matteo leaned back in his seat.
“What?” I eyed him innocently. “Did I ruin your plans for making me your girlfriend?”
Ivy snapped out of her conversation with Nico. “Again, what’s that all about?”
“It takes more than distance to discourage me.” His eyes gleamed.
Fine. I hadn’t run out of strategies yet to turn him off. I winked at Ivy. “De Lucci thinks he’s going to woo me.”
The server brought out their food. Behind her, one of the managers and another waitstaff brought out boxes of deli sandwiches and chips.
“Miss Moretti.” The manager came forward with a smile. “Thank you for partnering with us for your event.”
“Of course.” With what I was about to do, I bit my lower lip to keep from laughing. When the manager handed me the bill for a hundred sandwiches and chips, I put it in front of Matteo.
Ivy burst out laughing. Even Nico couldn’t hide his grin.
Matteo’s brows shot to his hairline before he caught my eyes with an amused, if not admiring gaze. “Well played, Sera Moretti.”
“That’s peanuts to you.” I stood. Tony and Rocco were already picking up the boxes and couldn’t hide their own smirks.
“Enjoy your breakfast.”
The Morettis supported different charities. The Merciful Sisters of St. Rita was one of them. They had many chapters scattered around the world, and in the U.S. they were in major cities from L.A. to New York. They ran the soup kitchens for the homeless, giving precedence to women who had children. As a child, I’d always been fascinated with the life of St. Rita, which was why it was the first charity I picked to use the “tax” I collected from the family’s cost of doing business.
It was my condition the first time Luca knowingly involved me in mob business. I taxed luxury goods at five percent because who else bought expensive alcohol and caviar anyway but rich people? Firearms and stolen vehicles were taxed higher which was why they took great pains to hide them from me. A one percent tax was already built into the online gambling and real estate business and it was usually distributed to different charities at Christmas and Easter. My uncle was extremely pious, yet he was a trigger-happy hothead who shot people when they irritated him. Someone needed to save him from hell. I did the same for Nonno, and bless his soul, I hoped I’d been in time to reform him. It would make me extremely sad if he was burning in hell right now.
As for my own conscience, I didn’t have one as long as a starving family got to eat and I did my part to redeem Luca for every sin he’d committed. He said his confessions to the padre were enough, but personally I think the priest was a hypocrite and he should try to guide Luca to better choices. In my opinion, he was afraid to say something to my uncle that would make him pull the big check he gave the parish.
Currently, I was behind a row of collapsible tables serving the homeless of New York City. It wasn’t unheard of that the mafia contributed to this form of charity. The soup kitchen could trace its beginnings to Al Capone who started them during the Great Depression.
“So does that mean I keep my cut?” Tony motioned for the next person to move forward. Or persons. A mother and a child. They slid their trays forward and I put the sandwich and the chips on them.
“No, it will be adjusted accordingly,” I said.
Tony scowled. He had a scary scowl and luckily the woman and the kid weren’t looking at him. Tony and Rocco acted belligerent all the time, but I knew they were good people when it came to these types of activities. Maybe they considered it penance for their life of crime too.
“What do you say to the nice lady?” the mother asked her daughter.
“Thank you.” The child couldn’t be more than six years old.
The mother faced me and that was when I saw the bruise on her cheek. I hated this part of volunteer work because I had witnessed many victims of domestic violence and there was only so much I could do. Sometimes I wanted to say something, be encouraging and tell them they did the right thing by leaving the situation. But it was not my place, I didn’t have the training, so rather than sound condescending, I said nothing. There were counselors for that. Instead, I said, “There are Styrofoam containers with complete meals up ahead.” I smiled and hoped it conveyed the sentiment I wanted to impart.
The mother and daughter smiled back and proceeded to where a nun was supervising the distribution of their regular balanced meal. My sandwiches and chips were a bonus to what the soup kitchen prepared every Friday.
“You can’t help all of them,” Tony commented. The first wave of people had come through. It was less than what was expected.
There were a few sandwiches left in my box of fifty. “Let’s consolidate before the next wave. I have a feeling when word of mouth spreads that there are gourmet sandwiches too, we’ll be slammed.”
“You could have just cut them a bigger check so they could roll it into the meals for the next few weeks.”
“I know.” I thought about this often. “But sometimes, it’s just seeing how their faces light up when they see something special to look forward to, you know? The hope that they deserve better things.”
“Sera,” Tony said gently. “In the end, they gotta help themselves.”
“Go get the box,” I retorted. He could be right, but it didn’t mean I had to listen to him.
My eyes wandered around the church’s rec center. Kids were bouncing basketballs in the corner, faces glowing with the joy of a full stomach and knowing they had another meal that night.
I squared my shoulders. I stood by what I was doing. Even when the money donated to charity came from illegal business, the end justified the means. That was what Nonno said, that was what Luca always said. Not what the padre preached, but again, that priest was the hypocrite.
My eyes widened when a familiar figure crossed the double doors of the gymnasium. He was chatting with Sister Agnes, the head of the Merciful Sisters in New York.
What the hell? Matteo followed me here?
He had changed from his sporty outfit and was wearing a dignified suit.
How did he find me? Daniel again?
Ivy and I split ways after breakfast because their store in the Meatpacking District had problems, and being that it was Friday, it was going to be busy. That was two hours ago.
“That motherfucker is persistent.” Tony dropped the box of sandwiches on the table. “How did he get past Rocco?”
Good question.
I put my hand on his arm before he confronted Matteo. This was the last place I wanted them to have a fight.
When the nun and Matteo reached our table, Tony’s scowl made Sister Agnes hesitate, but I smiled to reassure her even when keeping it natural was difficult.
Matteo, for his part, had a neutral face, but his eyes were laughing.
Asshole.
He was daring me to berate him in front of the nun.
“Mr. De Lucci,” I said sweetly. “This is a pleasant surprise.” Shit. What if he mentioned to the sister that he was the one who paid for all the sandwiches?
“You mentioned this charity last night,” Matteo said. “You said I can help out.”
“Mr. De Lucci gave us a big donation.” Sister Agnes clasped her hands together. Hmm, I wonder how big was big. Obviously, the nun was keeping the amount confidential, but it was bugging the heck out of me. Why the hell was I so competitive?
Because this is my charity, my unreasonable self argued.
I realized they were waiting for me to say something. I forced a wider smile and clasped my hands as well. “That’s amazing.” I turned to Tony because I had the oddest desire to wipe that triumphant look from Matteo’s face. “Isn’t it amazing?” I pursed my lips and glared at my uncle’s soldier to clear the displeasure from his expression.
“Yeah,” Tony mumbled.
“And I’m sorry again for being so last minute about this,” I told the nun. “I just didn’t want to bother you last night when I told Mr. De Lucci here what I was going to do.”
Matteo caught on and he had the grace to look apologetic.
Yes, asshole, check with me first before you lie.
“Well, since you’re here,” I added. “How about you help me? Tony, take a break with Rocco. I’m sure Mr. De Lucci and I can manage the next wave.”
“Oh.” The nun looked at Matteo’s starched appearance.
“No worries,” my interloper said, peeling off his suit jacket and then loosening his tie. For the first time since he crashed into my life, I found the movement sexy.
“I’m not sure I want to,” Tony started.
“Go,” I said firmly.
Tony glowered at Matteo. “Just so you know, she’s bossy.”
Matteo chuckled. “I’m aware.”
Tony would have threatened him more if the nun wasn’t there, but he gave a curt nod to Sister Agnes and stalked off.
“Well, I’ll leave you two to manage.” The nun split her gaze between us. “You look so good together.”
God no.
Even without glancing at Matteo, I could feel his amusement. I turned to him to give him a cutting stare, but he managed to distract me by rolling up his sleeves, this time, exposing his tanned forearms that were dusted with a mat of hair. And I was one of those women who salivated over hairy forearms.
Daniel had decent hair on his, but Matteo De Lucci, damn…he had indecently sexy forearms.
He raised a brow.
And damn him, he knew where my mind went. This was a man who knew he was attractive and used it to his advantage. Well, I wasn’t easy game and I’d show him.
I flashed him a smile before returning a more genuine one to the nun, who asked, “Is there anything else you need from me?”
“No. We’re good.”
“I’ll leave you two, then.”
I turned to face Matteo. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m trying to figure out what makes you tick.” He nodded to the first few patrons coming through the door. “We’ll talk later. Let’s get set up. I can hand these out. Why don’t you manage the line?”
