Page 50 of Lucian

Cecelia winked. “Another time. You enjoy cooking, don’t you?”

“Kind of had to learn if I wanted something edible to eat,” Jordyn replied, carefully choosing her words. Getting into a discussion about how her own mother was too high half of the time to cook, never mind remembering to buy food every week, was not something she looked forward to. “When I got older, it became a hobby to make different things I hadn’t before, and try new stuff in old recipes. I like seeing other people enjoy my food.”

“Cooking is therapeutic,” Cecelia agreed. “Lord knows when my boys became a certain age and they were following their father around for … business things … I was in this kitchen whipping away my worry more times than I can even remember. Not to mention the normal teenage things they put me through. Raising three boys with a crime boss father, my dear, is a frightening, fun filled ride. It’s a wonder they aren’t fat, honestly. Antony, too.”

Jordyn snorted. “I’m sure they didn’t mind. Did you always know … about Antony, I mean?”

Cecelia cleared her throat, setting the cleaned spoon to the counter. “When you grow up in it, it isn’t hard to pick out who is who. Of course, nobody thought then that a young capo like Antony would jump rank like he did. My sister had already been arranged to marry the man they wanted to be the next boss. Our father didn’t have sons, you see, and he didn’t want just anyone coming after him.”

“Lucian’s biological father, right?”

“Sì. So, when I married Antony, there were no arguments involved. Everything was already set, business-wise. Kate married for family and business, and I married for love. She can’t forget it, and I don’t mind a bit that she gets to see the man’s son happy, healthy, and rich in many form. If she had her way, Lucian would still be nothing—a no one’s child to everyone. Now, he’s exactly where he should have been from the start. A Marcello, a mafia prince, doing what he enjoys and what he’s good at.

“I always wanted three children,” Cecelia continued, smiling sadly. “After Gio’s birth left me without my reproductive organs, it wasn’t going to be possible. That broke my heart. Lucian coming into our family almost seemed like he was always meant to be here. I got my third child, and Antony was able to have a part of his best friend close that he never dreamed of. Lucian, ever since he stepped into this house, has always been ours. I’ve never let him feel anything but, and I won’t allow others to, either.”

“Even Kate?”

“Even my sister.”

“Is she really that awful?” Jordyn asked.

Honestly, Jordyn didn’t know a whole lot about Kate, or Lucian’s biological father. While Lucian was an open book about most things, he kept those things very quiet. Like maybe it hurt him, or made him ashamed to talk about his life before.

“She can be,” Cecelia answered. “Lucian holds his own, as she likes to pick at him when others aren’t around. I’m sure she’ll be her usual self tonight, but it’s hard to say.”

Jordyn had one more question for Cecelia. “How old was Lucian when his parents died?”

“Six.”

Jordyn’s mind froze. “But …”

“But what, dear?”

She was sure Lucian told her he was adopted into the Marcello family when he was eight during their many discussions over the last week.

Where did those two years go?

Jordyn didn’t get the chance to ask. The chiming doorbell rang throughout the house.

“Are you okay to keep stirring this for a few minutes?”

Jordyn looked into the large stainless steel pot that held enough sauce to feed an army. There didn’t seem to be anything difficult about keeping the sauce from burning, even if it was a larger portion than she cooked before. “Sure, I guess.”

“Good, because after I let the family in, I should go check on my husband. When Antony talks with a whiskey glass in his hand, that’s usually a sign he’s stressed out. Kate isn’t the only one who needs to be on their best behavior tonight.”

With that, Cecelia was gone, leaving Jordyn alone to her thoughts once more.

Chapter Twelve

When Cecelia stepped out on the porch and eyed Antony’s empty glass of whiskey, Lucian was quick to leave, not wanting to hear a lecture about drinking hard liquor on Sundays again.

It wasn’t long before he found Jordyn in the kitchen at the stove. She was stirring a sauce with all her attention focused on the cooking. Jordyn didn’t seem like she was overwhelmed by the three different foods she had going, easily slipping from one boiling pot to another without issue. Lucian hadn’t known she could cook, and that bothered him. It wasn’t her fault, considering he ordered most of their food in over the last week.

Seeing her now, though, cooking in a kitchen fit for a queen like his mother, hit him straight in the gut. A home like this could have very well been hers and no one would have known the difference. Where she’d come from didn’t matter, a lot like where he started out.

Adapts well was an understatement, Lucian thought.

Jordyn didn’t look a bit out of place and Lucian felt stupid for thinking his wealth might be off-putting to her because she wasn’t accustomed to it. Maybe Jordyn just didn’t give a shit about money. After all, she’d kicked those six-hundred dollar pumps off earlier when they arrived without even knowing the price of the heels on her feet. She was tending a bubbling, messy red sauce without an apron on and didn’t care a bit about staining the very expensive dress she wore, not that she knew the price of it, either.