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Katarina
Iwatch Rocco embrace his mother, and it brings a smile to my lips to see this otherwise lethal enforcer snicker like a little boy, like he has nothing to fear and everything to live for. He’s happy. Genuinely happy. I listen to the quick banter between mother and son—they know each other so well, pushing buttons in a playful way, teasing each other, and just having a good time being with one another.
I used to have that. And for the past eight years, I’ve missed out on learning more about my mother and sharing my secrets with her. She didn’t get to see me grow up, she doesn’t know I’m a hollow shell of my former self because of all I’ve lost. She wasn’t there to stop me from making mistakes, she didn’t get to see me graduate high school or comfort me when I cried myself to sleep every night. She couldn’t fill the void when my dad pulled away, she wasn’t there to soothe the ache as I wept for someone to actually notice me and to love me.
She doesn’t know I can’t even look at chocolate cake without losing it completely because hers was the best in the world, the one she baked for me every year for my birthday and every other time I’d beg, the one that was left out to cool on the stove that day.
“Kat, do you like olives?”
I blink fast in an attempt to clear the memories from my vision. “Oh, sure. That’s fine.”
Rocco winks at me. “Or we could get penne a la vodka pizza. That’s right up your alley, you know, without the penne.”
I roll my eyes. “Olives are just fine. I’m not picky when it comes to pizza.”
“Did someone say pizza?” A booming voice comes from the front hallway and Antonio Lucchese, Rocco’s dad, appears in the kitchen a second later, a big smile on his face. I know of him, of course, but I’ve never actually met him. His grin lights up the room when he sees his son. “You didn’t say you were stopping by. I thought we wouldn’t get to see you until tomorrow when you drive us to the airport.”
Rocco gives his dad a hug and claps him on the back. “I figured you might need dinner after all of the packing you guys have been doing. Take a load off for a while. I just called it in. I didn’t want Ma to go crazy making anything when you’re leaving tomorrow.”
“She let you order takeout?” Antonio’s incredulous voice makes me giggle, like it’s truly a mortal sin to dial ten little numbers and ask for someone else to cook your food. He turns his head toward me, eyes widening. “Well, well. Who do we have here?”
“Dad, this is Katarina Ivanov.”
I watch the realization sink in, and his lips stretch into a warm smile. He crosses the kitchen, and I get up to shake his hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”
He gently bats away my hand and gives me a big hug. “This is what we do in our house.”
I breathe in and a smile teases my lips. He smells so good, so clean and just…well, safe. With his kind face and round belly, how could I feel anything but? This man was the right hand of Nico’s dad for years before he retired and handed the family over to Nico. I’d heard a lot about him from Nico when I first showed up on the scene. But I also knew he’d been injured pretty badly, so he’s taken a backseat in the family operations since then. He still advises Nico and does work with some of the other families, business planning, things like that. Anything that keeps him off his feet.
He’s been on the sidelines for years now, and only recently got involved when the family was battling with the Cappodamos, a rival family from New York. Things escalated pretty quickly, and that’s when Nico tagged me in.
Good thing, too, since he, Max, and Rocco were like the Three Blind Mice without me.
Sometimes, plans just need a woman’s touch.
“I’ve heard a lot about you from Rocco and Nico,” Antonio says once he pulls away, a knowing grin on his face. “I’m glad Rocco finally brought you home.”
“Oh, um…it’s not actually like that,” I stammer, a hot flush creeping up the sides of my neck. “I only came because—”
“She does volunteer work at the shelter where we got Stoli 2.” Rocco crosses the room to face his dad. “She missed him, so I offered to bring her over so she could see him.” He shrugs. “No big deal. You don’t have to get out the baby pictures or anything like that. We’re just friends.”
Just friends.Fuck. I won’t lie. Hearing Rocco speak those words so casually…damn, the impact was like a knife stabbing my heart. I focus my attention on Stoli 2 and stroke his back as he lounges at my feet.
I know what this is. I’m not an idiot.
And a few months ago, it wouldn’t have bothered me at all.
But now?
Things have changed.
I’ve changed.
I want more. And I want it with him.
I’ve tried to ignore it, but the reality is right there, taking a bite out of me every time I try to deny the truth to myself.
I was out of line last night. The alcohol made me crazy and jealous, and I screwed things up big time. I’d been playing him for months, teasing him and taunting him, throwing out so many mixed signals, I even started to confuse myself. Did I really expect that he’d take the bait when I finally threw myself at him?
