Page 7 of Lucian

The prayer, as familiar as the church he stood in, was spoken quietly and surely. Making the sign of the cross with two fingers across his chest, Lucian echoed, “Amen.”

Unfortunately, when he turned to leave like everyone else was doing, Cecelia blocked his way in her own motherly way, her hand coming to rest on his arm. “Sit, dear,” his mother murmured softly.

Lucian frowned, glancing over his shoulder, watching his brothers and father begin filing out with the rest of the congregation. They didn’t even look back to notice the other two members of their family were staying behind. Not bothering to argue, as there was no point in doing that when it came to Cecelia Marcello, Lucian sat back down into the pew.

She looked as she always did on a Sunday morning. Her hair was pinned back in a flawless chignon, not a single strand of the chocolate colored strands out of place. Cecelia didn’t wear much makeup, as she didn’t need to, but the bit she did have on was perfectly applied and sparingly used. Despite the dress she wore being a dark, navy blue, something that seemed simple but still very stylish and appropriate, Lucian knew for a fact that article of clothing cost five grand easy.

Cecelia was an interesting character. She was an enigma in many ways. People often took her at face value. Her beauty and easy smile. The friendliness she portrayed and the genuine good heart she truly did have.

Lucian knew they were stupid for doing just that.

She was not simply a mother and housewife, like many assumed. She could just as easily bake a pie as she could cut a man’s throat, and she wouldn’t hesitate to if she needed to do just that, either. Cecelia was one of the strongest, most frightening women Lucian ever had the pleasure of meeting. Raised in a stricter home than Lucian could imagine, she was the daughter of a former Cosa Nostra boss. The same boss who Antony had later killed for murdering his best friend.

Yes, that meant exactly what it sounded like. The woman Lucian’s father had married was Cecelia’s younger sister.

It certainly made for interesting family dinners, if nothing else.

Not that Lucian gave a crap about Kate.

His mother, however, he loved as fiercely as her own flesh and blood sons did. Without a doubt, mafia royalty was the best way to describe his adoptive mother. Cecelia was Italian through and through. She enjoyed the lifestyle her husband provided, kept his home and sons in check, and supported her family in every venture they took on, even if it was a dangerous one.

Just the kind of woman Antony wanted his sons to find, Lucian knew.

“Your father told me you woke up late last night and were wandering the house,” Cecelia said, sitting beside her son once more.

Lucian sighed, looking up at the ceiling as if it would swallow him whole. Was that his father’s plan, now? Convince Cecelia it was his fault they were up late in his office?

“A noise woke me up, that’s all. It was nothing.”

Cecelia hummed disapprovingly under her breath, shooting him a sly smile from the side. “Lying looks terrible on you, Lucian.”

She always knew. “Sorry.”

“I’m aware of why you were in your father’s office after you woke up. He doesn’t hide things from me, you know.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“A noise, huh?” Cecelia asked.

Lucian hated lying his mother, so he chose not to. “Just a bad dream, nothing serious.”

“I figured.” Cecelia smiled at Lucian’s surprised look. “Mothers know, dear. Besides that, you’ve been terribly distracted lately. Barely kept your eyes on Father Peter today.”

“It’s church. I’m always distracted in church.”

“True, but not when you know I’m watching. Were you dreaming about the streets again?”

Once more, Lucian stared at his mother in a confused shock. How did she know him so well? “Maybe. Like I said, it’s nothing.”

“Perhaps,” Cecelia agreed, though she didn’t sound like she believed him. “Or maybe your subconscious is finally questioning all the things you never did when you were younger. We’ll always talk, if you want, Lucian. Whatever you need, Antony and I will give you. You should know this.”

Lucian was beginning to feel slightly uncomfortable with the attention his mother was giving him. It wasn’t like this was new, because it wasn’t. Cecelia was incredibly attentive, caring, and supportive of her sons, but usually she didn’t bring something up unless someone else did first.

“Why change my name?” Lucian asked randomly, not knowing what else to say.

“Don’t you already know?”

“No, I don’t. It’s never bothered me before.”