Honor (Made Book 1) Read online

“Mario has agreed to come work for me.”

  “Mario already has a job,” she retorted, her eyes flashing to me. “A good one, from what I recall, in private security.” She was trying to protect me. It was cute, but unnecessary.

  “Indeed, which is why he’ll make the perfect new bodyguard for you, bella.”

  “What?” Her confidence slipped, her attention snapping back to her father. “What happened to Luca?”

  “Luca is attending to other matters for me… Besides, I figured you’d be thrilled with the change in personnel.” Tilting his glass back, Moretti chased his annoyance with the rest of his brandy.

  “I already told you I don’t need someone constantly hovering. It doesn’t matter who you assign to be my shadow.”

  He turned his back to her, walking toward his desk. “Is there something I can do for you, Lena?”

  “No. I was just letting you know I was headed out.”

  “Perfect. Mario can escort you.”

  Her fists clenched at her sides, her back ramrod straight as she turned it on us and marched out of the room.

  Moretti gave me a silent look. I stood, placing my glass on the coffee table, before strolling after her.

  She was already halfway down the hall by the time I caught up with her. Glancing around to ensure we were alone, I clamped onto her arm, pulling her through the first opening, closing, and locking the door behind us. Luckily, it was a guest room and not a bathroom or closet. The latter would be harder to explain if discovered.

  Before I could say a word, she twisted her body, yanking herself from my grip. “A made man?” she whisper-yelled, shoving at my chest. “Where the hell does that leave us, Mario?”

  I gripped both of her arms, forcing her to calm the fuck down. “Stop, Lena. And listen to me…” I demanded, keeping my voice low.

  She huffed, turning her head away from me. I released her arms, waiting for her to cool off. When she finally looked back at me, I told her the truth.

  “There’s only one thing I was made for, Lena, and that’s you. This shit doesn’t matter. It’s a means to an end. I’m going to get you away from all this. I promise.”

  “And what about you?” Her lip trembled as she fought back the tears brimming in her eyes. “We both know there’s only one way out if you go through with this.”

  Damn. I couldn’t stand to see her cry.

  “Don’t worry about me, baby. Come here.” I pulled her into my arms, holding her tight. I pressed my lips to her head, whispering into her hair, “It’s going to be fine. Okay?”

  She nodded as silent tears fell down her cheeks, soaking into my shirt. “I can’t lose you, Mario. I’d rather marry him than know you won’t be alive at the end of all this. I can’t do this world without you.”

  The tears continued to run down her cheeks as she pulled back. I wiped them away with my thumbs as I cradled her face. Giving her a quick kiss, I took a step back. “You need to get yourself cleaned up. I’ll meet you in the garage.”

  She lowered her head with a feeble nod, swiping at the last few errant tears. Before sneaking out of the room, I brushed my pinky against hers, hearing her jagged breath catch with my silent promise.

  11

  Lena

  Mario held the rear passenger door open for me as I tucked myself into the back. After closing it, he rounded the hood, climbing into the driver’s seat. Neither of us said a word as he steered the car out of the garage, taking a right onto the one-way street.

  “Where to?” he finally asked.

  I snorted a humorless laugh. “I don’t know. I hadn’t anywhere to be.”

  His eyes locked on mine in the rear-view mirror, mischief dancing in them.

  I rolled my eyes and grinned, tossing my purse into the front seat, then unbuckled my seat belt.

  “What are you doing?” His eyebrows lifted as he glanced between the road and mirror.

  “I’m not sitting back here,” I responded, slipping off my heels and hiking up my skirt before climbing over the center console.

  I grunted, falling clumsily into the front seat beside him. He chuckled, and I smacked his shoulder playfully as I righted myself. He pinched my side in retaliation. I laughed, flinching away from him.

  Finding the silver lining, I decided maybe having him as my bodyguard was an answer to my prayers. At least this way, we could spend time together with little suspicion, and it meant my father wouldn’t be forcing him to do his illegal dealings or worse, kill someone else.

  Mario pulled the car into a parking garage near the Met. “Power off your phone and dismantle it,” he ordered as he maneuvered into a space.

  I did what I was told and placed all the parts back in my purse.

  He glanced at the ring on my finger. “Take it off.”

  I slid the ring from my finger, opening my purse again.

  “No,” he said, stopping me. He held out his hand and I placed it in his palm. He opened the middle console. My eyes drifted to the gun inside as he placed the ring beside it. He closed the lid and reached for the door handle. “Let’s go.”

  “Where are we going?” I asked as soon as he opened the door.

  “You’ll see.”

  “Mario, wait.” I latched onto his bicep. “My father, Lorenzo…they’ll have questions when I get home.”

  “We’ll tell them you spent the day staring at art and your phone died.”

  I nodded and he got out, walking around to my side of the car as I put my shoes back on. He opened my door and gave me his hand, helping me out of the car. He didn’t release me as he walked us through the garage toward a rear emergency exit. And for once, I didn’t worry about getting caught.

  Every muscle in my body was tense as I followed Mario up the stoop steps. “This is a bad idea.” I glanced in both directions down the road.

  He peeked over his shoulder with a teasing grin. “It’ll be fine.”

  I shook my head to myself. “It won’t. She hates me.”

  “She doesn’t hate you. She’s just…protective.”

  “In other words, she hates me.”

  He laughed, loudly. “Look, we’ll be quick. I promised her I’d help her out today. If you prefer, you can hide in the alley until I’m done.”

  I cocked my head to the side, planting my hands on my hips. Though, the idea wasn’t a terrible one. I wasn’t sure what would be worse: facing his older sister or sitting in a smelly alley with nothing to do for a few hours.

  Before I could make my decision, he was opening the front door to his childhood home, yelling out, “Gia!”

  “Back here!” she hollered in return from her room down the hall.

  When I didn’t make a move to follow him inside, he looked back, snatching my hand, and dragging me in before closing and locking the door behind me.

  “It’s about time you—” Gia chided, stopping short as she appeared from around the corner. Her eyes volleyed between Mario and me.

  My chest hammered in the silence, my sweaty armpits giving my damp palms a run for their money.

  “Gia, you remember Lena,” Mario finally said, throwing his arm over my shoulders, clutching me securely to his side.

  Her eyes flashed with annoyance as she looked at her brother. “Yeah. Sure… Hey, Lena,” she tossed my way.

  “Gia.” I gave her a semblance of a smile in return, my nerves running rampant. “It’s good to see you. I hope you don’t mind my tagging along.”

  She uttered an exasperated snort, then turned her back to us both, waving a hand flippantly in the air as she walked away and said, “Not at all.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, ready to turn and run. The alley was even more appealing now and would likely be a warmer welcome than I’d just received.

  Mario kissed my head reassuringly. “Give her time. I’ll talk to her.” He released me, heading down the hall to where his sister had disappeared.

  I didn’t respond. I didn’t think time would ever heal the wounds his family suffered at the hands of
my father.

  Giving them a few minutes alone, I made the few steps from the tiny entryway into the undersized living room to sit. The threadbare couch sagged and creaked under my weight as I perched myself on the edge. Placing my arms in my lap, I tapped the tips of my fingers against my knees. I tried to ignore their angry whispering, tried to pretend it had nothing to do with me. I surveyed the room, trying to keep myself busy.

  I hadn’t been in Mario’s house since we were teens, but I still remembered everything about it, not just the physical items, but the way it had always felt like a home. The way it always smelled of homemade pasta sauce from his ma cooking up a storm, the sound of clinking pots in the kitchen combined with the low volume of the TV as we hung out on the itchy rug in the living room, watching afterschool game shows. Most of all, I remembered the warm laughter of his family as they lovingly teased each other.

  Back then, I’d been welcomed with open arms into their home. That all changed once Mario and I had ventured from friends to more. Though neither of us ever confirmed or discussed our relationship, his family knew. I was no longer the sweet girl they took under their wings, but the evil vixen who would ruin Mario’s life. I didn’t blame them. I understood it more than anyone.

  The scraping sound of keys against a lock turned my attention to the front door. Mario’s mother walked through, her hands filled with overflowing grocery bags. I popped up from the couch, her surprised stare rooting me in place.

  The awkward silence that stretched between us was only filled by her angry children’s voices. Glancing from me to the hallway, she shook her head and muttered something in Italian that I couldn’t quite hear.

  “Come,” she commanded, jerking her head toward the kitchen before leading the way. When I hesitated to follow, she yelled out, “Now, passerotta!”

  I wasn’t going to make her say it again. She shoved a bag at my chest as I entered the room, nodding toward the counter. I set it down and began to remove its contents while she did the same with the others. She worked quickly and efficiently putting the items away, not slowing down until everything was in its rightful place.

  She sighed, catching a breath, and placed a hand over her stomach. “You remember how to cook?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  At least, I remembered what she had taught me when I was younger. After my father had moved us from Brooklyn to the Upper East Side, I didn’t step foot in the kitchen much. We had hired help to do everything for us.

  She handed me a pot. I walked to the sink and filled it with tap water before setting it on the stove top. I cranked the knob to high and sprinkled some salt, preparing the water to boil the potatoes for the gnocchi. She worked on the homemade sauce while I worked on peeling and dicing the potatoes.

  I found myself relaxing into the task, not even realizing that at some point, Mario and Gia had finally quieted down. I only hoped that they hadn’t killed each other and were instead working peacefully, assembling the new furniture she’d ordered for her bedroom from Ikea.

  We continued to work side by side, preparing lunch in silence, except for her occasional directions, correcting me when I wasn’t preparing something to her liking. I didn’t mind. There was a reason her restaurant did well. She not only was a hard worker, but an exceptional cook.

  “No, no,” she reprimanded once again as I tried to shape the gnocchi with a fork. With a bump of her hips, she pushed me aside and took the fork from me. “You have to do it with confidence and assertiveness, but with a very light touch,” she instructed, pressing the tines of the fork with her thumb into the doughy pillow. “Same as you would with a man,” she added with a hint of humor in her voice.

  She cracked a tiny smile as I chuckled, and for the first time, it felt like before I’d become the villain. She handed the fork back to me before giving her sauce a quick check and returning to prepping the fish.

  I watched her for a moment, then turned back to the gnocchi. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Leoni,” I stated softly.

  Her movements froze for a split second. “For what, passerotta?”

  “For…everything. My father. Mr. Leoni. For whatever I did to make you hate me.”

  With her back still to me, she tsked. “I do not hold the sins of a father against his child. And I do not hate you, Lena. But I love my son, and I want what’s best for him.”

  “Which isn’t me,” I provided.

  “Do you disagree?”

  “No…I don’t know.” I sighed. “I love him.”

  “I have no doubt you do.”

  “But it’s not enough.”

  “Are you asking or telling me?”

  I felt her eyes at my back. “He won’t take no for an answer,” I stated, deflating a little.

  “He never has. He’s like his father,” she supplied simply.

  His father. I pressed the fork harder than necessary into the dough. “I didn’t choose this life, Mrs. Leoni. And if I’m honest, I’m a little angry with you, too.”

  “With me?” She grunted as she returned to stirring her sauce.

  “Yes!” I spun on my heels, flailing my arm as I spoke. “How can you be so hard on me? And against my relationship with Mario? Your husband was no saint, and you can’t tell me you had no idea who he was, or what he did. I don’t want Mario to have any part of my father’s business.”

  “But he will, because he thinks it’s the only way to be with you!” she slammed her palm on the counter, causing me to jump slightly, the fork slipping out of my hand and clattering onto the floor. Inhaling deeply through her nose, she turned, meeting my eyes. “I’m sorry, Lena. You’re right. I shouldn’t judge, considering who I knowingly married. But a parent does not want their child to make the same mistakes they did.”

  “Ma!” Mario’s gruff voice boomed from behind me as he walked into the kitchen.

  Gia was hot on his heels, her arms defensively crossed. The walls were thin, so I had no doubt they heard most of our conversation.

  Mario stepped beside me, clasping my hand. He took one look at my face, then announced, “We’re leaving.”

  “Mario—” his mother started.

  “No, Ma,” he said with an authoritative tone, then sighed. “I love you, but you two making Lena feel unwelcome in our home is not something I’m subjecting her to any longer.” He took one step forward, giving her a chaste kiss on her cheek, then pulled me along with him in long, determined strides for the front door.

  “Mario,” I said, planting my feet in the entryway as he reached for the knob.

  He ignored me.

  I twisted my hand out of his grasp, getting his attention. “I’ll leave,” I offered.

  His face contorted. “That’s what we’re doing.”

  “No. I’ll leave. You stay. Spend time with your family,” I said firmly. I wasn’t willing to come between him and his family.

  “That’s not how this works, bella. You and me, remember? You go, I go.”

  “You’ll both stay,” Mrs. Leoni ordered from the kitchen doorway. “Lunch is almost ready. Lena worked hard to help make it. She should enjoy some of it and,” she stalled and sighed, “we owe you both an apology. No better way to do that than over a meal.”

  Mario looked toward me for an answer. “Okay. We’ll stay,” he agreed, circling me protectively in his arms, his chest at my back.

  His mother gave a satisfied nod and walked back into the kitchen. Gia shifted on her feet, giving me an apologetic smile before following her mother’s path.

  “Told ya,” Mario said smugly, tightening his hold on me. “She just needed time.” He nipped at my ear.

  I scoffed, playfully jabbing my elbow into his stomach.

  Lunch had been tense, but ended on a better note than expected. Mario returned to Gia’s room to help her finish assembling her furniture, while I helped his mom clear the table and clean up the kitchen.

  “I think that’s the last of it,” I announced, handing Mrs. Leoni the final dish from the table after scraping the
leftover food into a storage container.

  She submerged it into the soapy water and began scrubbing.

  I picked up a towel and started to dry a few of the dishes she’d already washed. “About earlier—”

  “No need to say more, Lena. You were right. And so was my son.” She rinsed the dish she’d been washing and handed it to me.

  I dried it, then set it aside as she began to drain the sink.

  “I’d been unfair to you both. But mostly you…and… I’m afraid I’ve broken a promise.”

  “A promise?” I asked, passing her the damp towel.

  She nodded, taking it from me and drying her hands. She set the towel aside and put her arm around me. “Come. Let’s sit and talk.” She led me to the living room, where we sat side by side on the couch.

  My stomach knotted as the silence lingered, Mrs. Leoni seemingly lost in her thoughts.

  She sighed, rubbing at her forehead before finally making eye contact with me. “You were probably too young to remember, but your mother and I used to be close. She had been my friend since we were young girls. She was the one who’d introduced me to Mario’s father.”

  I nodded, vaguely recalling a memory of the two of them laughing at a party where our families had been celebrating together at our home. I’d always loved my mother’s laugh. I didn’t hear it often, so the few times I had, it’d stuck with me. “You made a promise to my mother.”

  “Yes…I promised her I’d look after you until she could come back.”

  “Until she came back?” My heart raced with my mind. “Is she—”

  “No.” She covered the hand in my lap, squeezing it. “She’s not. But she never meant to leave you behind.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “She was leaving your father. She couldn’t take you at the time. She said she would be getting help to come back for you.”

  “What help?”

  “I don’t know, passerotta. She didn’t tell me, and I didn’t ask. The less I knew, the better in case your papa—”

  “Did he kill her?”