Bad Intentions by Tara Wyatt

8

Lucian stepped into the private club owned by the Cosa Nostra on Baxter Street in Little Italy, only a few blocks from his brother Max’s apartment. The interior was dim despite the bright sunshine outside, and the décor was a little heavy for Lucian’s taste. It was all dark wainscoting, black leather and gold fixtures, the art on the walls housed in ornate, gilded frames, like something out of an 80’s mob movie. Red tablecloths adorned the tables, and towards the back were several booths, upholstered in baby blue velvet.

Thank God Sal Perri wasn’t in charge of decorating his latest restaurant.

He pulled off his sunglasses and tucked them into his shirt pocket, grateful for the cool air swirling around thanks to the AC and several ceiling fans spinning at full tilt. It was a sweltering day outside, but he had a feeling the reason he couldn’t seem to cool down had nothing to do with the summer heat and everything to do with Olivia.

He’d kissed her. He’d fucking kissed her. He went back and forth, trying to decide if it was the best or worst thing he’d ever done. His blood was singing, his cock still half-hard with wanting her. But watching her in her element, looking so goddamn beautiful and confident and alive with ideas and creativity had cracked something open inside him and he hadn’t been able to hold himself back. He’d needed his mouth on hers, needed to taste her like he needed air. And as he’d suspected, the second her tongue had touched his, his restraint had crumbled as he finally took what he’d wanted for years.

He’d imagined kissing her thousands of times, but now he knew that his imagination paled in comparison to the real thing. To the lush warmth of her mouth, the sensual slide of her tongue, the soft whimpers and moans she made that had driven him insane with wanting her. He’d only been about five minutes away from dropping to his knees and eating her pussy right where they stood.

Maybe it was a good thing they’d been interrupted, even if the dull throb in his balls said otherwise. Because she wasn’t his, and she couldn’t be. Not if he wanted to keep her safe. Her safety meant more to him than anything, even if it was getting harder and harder to be around her and not show her how much he wanted her.

He’d never wanted to fuck a woman so badly, but when it came to Olivia, it wasn’t just about getting his dick inside her. No, it was so much more than that. He wanted to fuck her into oblivion and then fall asleep holding her. He wanted to watch the sunrise with her and drink coffee in bed and spend hours learning exactly how she liked to be touched, kissed, licked. He wanted to walk through Central Park holding her hand. He wanted to take her to all of his favorite restaurants.

God, he wanted her in his life so fucking badly. She was like fresh air and sunshine and shimmering sexuality, all rolled into one. When he was with her, he felt slightly less damaged. She made him feel like he could actually have all of those things. Knowing she wanted them too only made the torture of staying away from her worse.

He couldn’t give her the life she deserved. But he could give her this. He could take care of this Massimo prick.

Sal was sitting in one of the back booths, his usual spot, and it struck him just how old Sal was looking these days. He’d just turned seventy-seven, and while he was in good health, he very much looked like a man in his seventies. His once brown hair had turned gray with streaks of silver and had thinned considerably over the years, leaving him with a pronounced widow’s peak. His brown eyes were still sharp, but his face was heavily lined with years and all of the shit he’d seen and done. His suit was impeccably tailored, as always, but it still looked too big for him, as though he’d shrunk.

He stood when he saw Lucian, sending him a big smile. “Lucian! I wasn’t expecting to get your call, but I was delighted to hear from you. How are you, my boy?” he asked, pulling Lucian in for a hug, showing him more warmth in thirty seconds than his actual father had ever shown him in his entire life.

He pulled back from the hug, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’m good, Sal. It’s been too long since we had lunch.”

“Are you here for Rosa’s carbonara? Or is there something on your mind? Come, sit.”

He followed Sal back to his booth and slid into his usual spot. He didn’t even know how many times he’d sat in this exact spot with this man over the past twenty-five years. Countless. His mind flashed back to the night he’d saved Sal’s life from that Bratva gunman, and in return, Sal had saved his by letting him make his own way in the world.

“You know I’ll never turn down Rosa’s carbonara, but yes, there is something on my mind I wanted to discuss with you.”

Sal nodded. “Of course.” He gestured to a uniformed server hovering nearby. “Pour this man a glass of the Macallan,” he said, picking up his dirty martini and taking a sip. “So,” he said, leveling his shrewd brown gaze on Lucian. “Tell me what I can do for you. Another one of your brothers in trouble?”

Lucian laughed and shook his head, accepting the glass of scotch from the server. “No, thankfully. Everything seems to have quieted down now that they’re all settled.” Sal had been integral not only in making sure the reporter who’d tried to harm Max and Willa would never work in journalism again, but had also helped Lucian track down all of his brother Sebastian’s gambling debts so they could be paid off and Sebastian could be free from the mistakes of his past.

Sal nodded slowly. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Lucian sipped his drink, his stomach burning, and not because of the alcohol. “Aerin’s happily remarried and a mother to newborn twins down in Dallas. Theo is marrying Lauren next summer, and Sebastian is settled with Kayla out in Lake Tahoe. They just bought a house last month. And Max and Willa are currently in Paris, where I suspect he’s proposing.”

Sal grinned. “Who doesn’t love a happy ending?” Slowly, the grin faded from his face, replaced with a concerned frown. “Everyone’s settled, except you.”

Not wanting to get into his personal life, Lucian cleared his throat, grateful for the interruption when the server put two caprese salads in front of them. “Sal, I need a favor.”

Sal chewed the fresh ball of mozzarella he’d just popped into his mouth. “Of course. I’ll help if I can.”

The knot in the center of Lucian’s chest loosened slightly. Sal had always had his back. Always.

“It’s about Massimo Greco.”

Sal frowned. “Massimo? What about him?”

“He’s harassing a woman he dated. She broke things off with him and he’s not taking no for an answer, even though she’s made it clear she’s not interested.”

“This is preschool shit. Why are you involved?”

Lucian’s stomach tightened, but he couldn’t tell Sal the truth, that he was involved because he was halfway in love with Olivia and was protecting her.

In love. Fuck.

“She’s the daughter of Prescott Group’s biggest investor. She’s unhappy, which is making my investor unhappy, and I don’t need unhappy investors. Not with the Vegas expansion almost done. So I’m asking, as a favor, if you could tell Massimo to forget he ever met Olivia Walsh.”

Sal chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “Fine. As a favor to you, I’ll tell Massimo to leave the girl alone.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

They ate in silence for a moment, but Lucian could feel the weight of Sal’s gaze on him the entire time.

“You sure this girl is just the daughter of your investor? Nothing else?”

“I’m sure,” he lied smoothly, wiping at his mouth with his napkin.

“You don’t usually take an interest in this kind of petty shit. He didn’t hurt her, did he?”

“Not to my knowledge.” If he had, this would be a very different conversation, one where Lucian was explaining why he’d shot Massimo’s dick off.

“Daughter of your investor,” Sal murmured, polishing off his martini. “If you say so.” He shook his head and then sat up straighter. “But, since I’ve got you here, I do have a favor to ask in return.”

“Anything.”

“It’s the fucking Irish and that goddamn Murphy. Not only are they selling in my agreed upon territory, but they’re using the Bleeckers to move their drugs.” Sal’s upper lip curled as he shook his head in disgust. “First the Yakuza start using those Vietnamese street gangs, and now this. It’s all gonna unravel if we can’t keep our shit tight, and it’s going to get loose real fast if we keep dealing with street gangs.”

“You want me to talk to Murphy?”

Sal inclined his head. “If you would. Tell him to stay out of my part of Manhattan and put an end to this Bleecker shit.”

Lucian rubbed a hand over his mouth. It was bad if the Irish weren’t respecting the boundaries they’d all agreed upon years ago, and even worse if they were using street gangs to deal drugs. That was dangerous and had the potential to be incredibly messy. Street gangs were unnecessarily violent and careless, and would only attract attention from law enforcement—attention that none of them wanted.

“I’ll talk to Murphy and remind him of the boundaries we all agreed on.”

“And bring that Killian fellow of yours. Murphy’s scared of him. He pretends to like him, but he’s shaking in his boots whenever that fella’s around.”

“Frankly, I’m a little scared of Killian,” he said, and Sal laughed, the tone of the conversation lightening up again.

Their main courses arrived and they tucked in, shooting the shit about other business until Sal set his fork down and leaned back in his seat, his hands folded over his stomach, his eyes scrutinizing Lucian.

“So this girl. Olivia. She a looker?”

Lucian shrugged. “Sure. She’s pretty.” Tension crept down his neck, making his muscles stiffen. He didn’t want Sal to know about his interest in Olivia because then it took his request from something business related—keeping an investor happy—to something far more personal, which was more of a gray area. Yes, Sal had done favors for him where his brothers were concerned, but those favors hadn’t involved disciplining one of his own guys. It was a precarious favor to ask for already, and if Sal knew it was personal, it could compromise Lucian’s status as a neutral party in all of this. He already felt as though he were walking on a tightrope with no safety net on a windy day most of the time. He was used to precarious. But this was even more so than usual.

“Young?”

Lucian shrugged again. “Mid-twenties, I’d guess.” Never mind that he knew she was twenty-six, that her birthday was July 7^th, that he’d just kissed the shit out of her only a couple of hours ago. His cock perked up at the memory.

Sal grinned, shaking his head. “I don’t think I remember what it feels like to be that young.”

At that, Lucian chuckled and clinked his glass to Sal’s. “Me neither.”

Another silence descended as they finished their meal. Once the plates were cleared, the server brought out two servings of panna cotta along with two small glasses of lemoncello.

“So,” said Sal, helping himself to his dessert. “Everyone is settled. Getting married, buying houses, having babies. All of the Prescotts, except one.” He turned that piercing brown gaze on Lucian again. “Everyone except you.”

Lucian blew out a breath. “I’m aware, Sal.”

He leaned in closer, laying a hand on Lucian’s arm. “Don’t you want a wife? A family?”

“You know it’s not that easy for guys like us.”

“I’ve been married to Antonella for over fifty years. She gave me three beautiful children. I have six grandchildren. It wasn’t hard for me.”

“Things are different for you.”

“How so?”

He curled his fist under the table so Sal wouldn’t see, trying to contain the tension and the frustration rolling through him. “You’re not caught in the middle, straddling two worlds, one of which is very dangerous. You’re not walking a tightrope trying to keep everything and everyone in check.”

Sal frowned, his bushy brows slashing down over his eyes. “You have a point there. Then again, the list of guys who’d like to see me whacked is a hell of a lot longer than the list of friends and well-wishers.” Sal shrugged. “I just don’t want you to be lonely. I don’t want your chance at happiness to pass you by.”

Lucian dropped his chin to his chest, staring down at his lap for a minute as he fought back the wave of emotion cresting over him. He was touched by Sal’s concern for his happiness, which made him feel even worse for not being completely straight with him about Olivia and the intricacies of the situation.

He looked up, meeting Sal’s eyes. “But weren’t you scared? That something would happen to Antonella or the kids?” He shook his head, staring unfocused on the panna cotta he had no desire to eat.

“Sure. If someone had touched my Nella I would’ve burned the fucking city down.” He squinted at Lucian. “Is that what’s holding you back? You’re scared that if you love a woman, she’s gonna get hurt?”

He lifted one heavy shoulder and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Maybe. Yeah.”

“Ever since you were more boy than man, you’ve been focused on protecting those around you. Your siblings, me, your guys. And I think it’s because you never had any kind of security at home, so every single connection, every single relationship always felt as though it could be snatched away in an instant. You’ve never felt like anything was yours to keep, and so you guard it like a starving dog with a T-bone.” Sal’s words hit home and sunk deep. He’d spent the past five years trying to stay the hell away from Olivia because he was terrified something would happen to her if they were together.

Sal sighed. “But you can’t live your life that way, Lucian. You can’t let fear of a possibility ruin a certain joy.” He tossed back the rest of his lemoncello. “With no risk, there’s no reward. And you’ve been through too damn much to deny yourself the rewards of love and family. You’ve earned it, more than most. If that’s what you want, don’t let fear take it away.” He leaned in close. “And you know I’ll always have your back. If you ever get tired of playing judge and jury for Manhattan’s crime world, I’d be thrilled to have you as my right hand man.”

He was tempted by Sal’s invitation for half a second, but he couldn’t abandon the Kings of Hell’s Kitchen. He’d promised them protection and stability and he wasn’t going to go back on his word. He wasn’t his father, who tossed out promises like birdseed, just to see who might flock to him and give him what he wanted.

“Thanks for the offer, Sal, but I’m staying where I am.”

“As I thought you would. But think about what I said. Our lives are dangerous, but the world is a dangerous place. You can’t live your life hamstrung by what ifs and fears of things that haven’t happened.”

He nodded. “I’ll talk to Murphy about those boundaries.”

“And I’ll make sure Massimo leaves the girl alone.”