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He shrugs, placing my plate down in front of me. The smell alone makes my stomach rumble.
He stops and frowns. “You aren’t eating enough, little one.”
I gulp, unsure of what to say.
“I go through phases. Sometimes I’m starving, other times I feel sick. It’s getting better though.”
In this case, it’s neither. I’m just too distracted by him.
I pick up my fork, and his eyes dart to my shaking hand.
“You need to eat properly. Popcorn isn’t a meal.” His voice is stern.
He grabs his own plate and sits next to me. I’m overwhelmed by the smell of his masculine cologne.
I poke my fork around the plate.
“So how did you go from foster kid to mafia boss then?” I ask, hoping to change the subject.
He looks down at my cooling omelet. “Eat and I’ll tell you.”
My mouth waters as I swallow down a mouthful of eggs. I pull on the sleeves of my sweater, trying to fight the nausea bubbling in my stomach.
“I was left in an apartment on my own as a baby and got taken in by Social Services. My mom was a junkie that OD’d. They found her next to me. They couldn’t find my dad.”
He takes a bite of his food. “Another mouthful.” He stares at me until I take another timid bite.
“I was tossed from place to place until one family sent me to Tony’s boxing club when I was eight because I had a temper.” He shrugs. “What they didn’t realize, Tony ran an underground fight club. So when everyone else gave up on me, I always had a place to go. But that’s where I met my brother, Keller. Tony took him in, too, and we spent our teens fighting for food and for survival.”
A smile lights up his face. “And then Mrs. Russo took us in when we were sixteen. An older Italian lady who’d just lost her husband. She tried to whip us boys into shape, and we fucking love her for it, though, and her cooking. Our bellies were full, we had a warm bed, and we had a real family. So as soon as we turned eighteen, we changed our last names to Russo. We were her sons and always will be.”
“Aww, that’s so sweet.”I stuff another mouthful of eggs. I can’t help the pang of sadness at the mention of mothers.I miss mine so much.
“So how does that lead to the mafia boss?” I say with my mouth full.
He chews his bite slowly, and I watch his Adam’s apple move as he swallows. “Well, turns out my dad wasn’t a runaway junkie like my mom. He was the head of the fucking mafia. Giuseppe Luciano.”
My mouth falls open. That’s a name I recognize. The fights my mom and dad would have always involved that man’s name growing up. Mom wanted us to go back to Italy, but my dad was obsessed with taking over power from Mr. Luciano.
Luca watches me. “You knew him?”
I shake my head. “No. Just heard of his name. I was kept away from my dad’s business.”
“Hmm.”His chest rumbles and makes my heart jump.
Ignoring the flutters in my stomach, I try to stay on topic. “So your dad made you take over the mafia? Why?”I push another forkful of food into my mouth. I want to know more and that’s how I can keep him talking.
“That, I still don’t know. I’ll never know. His advisors found me and dragged me in the back of an SUV to my dad’s gated mansion. Told me the will he had drawn up stipulated power goes to his only surviving son.”
I cough as I try to hold back a laugh. “Wait. Your name used to be Luca Luciano? That’s a mouthful of a name.”
He chuckles. “Russo is much better.”.
I tap my fork against my lips as I try to picture a young Luca being dragged into his dad’s empire. “That must have been hard.”
His lips thin as he looks at his coffee cup pensively. “My life has never truly been my own. I’ve been fighting my whole damn life to survive. This is no different. I’m at a place now where they respect me. I have more money than I know what to do with. Once I take down your father, the city is mine.”
“Something is still missing?” I can tell he doesn’t look happy about his current mission.
