Page 52 of Marcus

Lucian laughed, clearly unashamed. “Sorry, did I touch a nerve there?”

“No, but—”

“Cella, you know I don’t have a problem with this … thing you have going on with Marcus Guzzi, don’t you?”

“Even if you did,” she muttered, “not sure it would make a difference to what I wanted or did, Daddy, let’s just be honest here.”

She swore she could feel her father’s smile when he replied, “And I would expect nothing different, I promise. But … my bigger concern here is just making sure you’re happy. You keep saying work like it’s supposed to distract from the fact a lot of this is clearly not about work, sweetheart, and that worries me.”

“I don’t see why it should.”

“Because I’m not sure if you’re trying to deflect the rest of us from whatever is happening, or yourself.”

Yeah, her father pulled no punches.

“I’m not trying to distract from anything,” she said, although she couldn’t say it was entirely true. That was another thing for a different day that wasn’t today. “I’m just … letting things happen, you know?”

“You understand who he is, right?”

“Of course.”

“No, Cella,” Lucian said, his tone softening a bit, “I mean, who he really is. He is the oldest son of the only Cosa Nostra boss to have survived his reign in Canada. His five brothers? Two of them remained in the family—another went to the Chicago family, and another works for an outside organization. Marcus, though? He’s followed right after his father. And knowing what I do about your feelings regarding this life and the mafia, I have to wonder if you really understand what you’re doing or if you’re just sticking your head in the sand.”

“Daddy—”

“I only care that you’re happy. And the rest of that all goes back to being happy at the end of the day with the choices you have made.”

“I am happy. I’m trying to stay that way. The rest isn’t really important right now, is it?”

Or maybe it was just like her father had said, and she was purposely choosing to ignore it. Cella wasn’t sure, and right now didn’t seem like the time to sit down and figure it all out. Not when she was on her way to Toronto to see Marcus, spend the weekend with him, and if the truth was told, very little of it would be spent doing work.

“I know why you’re worried,” she said before her father could say anything more, “but right now I’m just trying to figure out what I even want here.”

“He is not immune because he’s a made man, Cella.”

“What?”

“From being hurt—getting his heart broken. Just because he’s a made man doesn’t mean he doesn’t have feelings here. So, while you figure out what you want, please remember that there are more people than just you in the equation. If you’re being selfish for the first time in your life, then that’s okay … but self-seeking doesn’t always have to mean harmful to those around you.”

Cella let out a slow breath. “Okay.”

“Just okay?”

“I’ll keep it in mind, Daddy.”

“And look out for your heart, too. It’s taken enough of a beating … it’s time to take care of it, now.”

The most relaxed Cella had ever remembered seeing Marcus was when he pulled open the door of a three-level home tucked away in a gated suburb just outside of Toronto’s city limits. In a pair of gray sweatpants and a white T-shirt that he’d rolled up the sleeves a bit on his shoulders, it was like meeting a whole other man.

Gone was the three-piece suit. His hair had been mussed into a sexy disarray. Everything about him screamed laid-back and easy.

“Working out?” she asked him.

Marcus winked her way before dropping down to his knees to greet her daughter standing in front of her on the porch. “Hey, you.”

Tiffany managed a tired smile. “That was a very long drive.”

“I bet. Heard your ma picked you up at your grandparents and then drove here, right?”