Heartless Prince by Brook Wilder

 

Chapter 31

Lucas

 

“You are what’s going on in this pretty head of mine.”

 

I stared at Leda, every nerve ending in my body pulled tight. She had surprised me tonight, not being the scared rabbit I had expected once I released her from her cage.

 

No, she had taken me stride for stride, not even flinching under my stare. It had been two fucking days since I had allowed myself a glimpse of her, hoping that whatever feelings I had would dissipate over the separation.

 

I threw myself into my work, refusing to even lift my head as I tried to straighten out the shit that my capos and Adrian were getting me into. Shipments were delayed all over the city. Seditious whispers had taken wing.

 

No one trusted me enough. Not even in my own organization. All they saw was the slave they had all abused, the enforcer that had stolen the title of a Don.

 

But I would never be good enough in their eyes. I would never be the Don they wanted because I wasn’t born with the name. I could kill; I could make a shitload of money. But I could never erase the sin of my name. No matter what I did, my name wasn’t good enough. My blood wasn’t good enough.

 

And Leda D’Agostino kept reminding me of that.

 

With every mention of Carmine, she challenged me. And she dared me to reveal my past to her. Those questions about whether I could sleep at night? I’ve heard more than my fair share of them in all sorts of variations.

 

The real question she asked—the one that they all asked—was simple: who was Lucas Valentino?

 

I didn’t want to tell her, yet there was a pull to do so deep down inside me. No one ever challenged me the way she did and lived to tell the tale.

 

She should be begging for her life. Hell, I should be putting fear in her. But watching her as she sat across from me, eyes flashing with defiance, I felt something far different.

 

I wanted to bare myself to her. I wanted her to look at my black soul and darker past, and make her own judgment. But I knew better. She’d run if she knew. Hell, anyone would.

 

No one gave a shit about me, and I preferred it that way.

 

“What do you think I’m hiding?” I asked softly.

 

“How could I know?” Leda retorted. “I ask, and you stonewall me. You tell me that I’m not allowed to fucking talk. You tell me that I don’t get to ask questions. You tell me that you’ll punish me if I pry. So why should I guess?” 

 

“I wasn’t supposed to be a Don,” I interrupted her as she got ready to launch another tirade. “The will was changed at the last minute. I never even knew I was in the running.”

 

“What?” Leda’s eyes widened.

 

I picked up my glass, and drained it before I continued. “Cosimo Cavazzo changed his will and told me on his deathbed that I was to take over. I was his enforcer, and before that—” The words refused to move past my lips.

 

I didn’t need Leda to look at me with disdain in her eyes, the way that I had been looked at for years before Cosimo elevated my status.

 

“Something else.” I muttered.

 

Clearing my throat, I stood and walked to the railing, gripping it under my hands. “He was an asshole,” I said softly, thinking of all the times he had beaten me within an inch of my life in the beginning.

 

Cosimo knew the kind of violence I was capable of. He’d seen it before, when I was pushed to the edge of survival. He wanted to bring that part of me to the surface. 

 

And the only way to do that was to beat me until I started fighting back. Every scar on my body was a testament to his torture. But in return I had learned valuable lessons that had served me well to this day.

 

“Why would Cosimo make you his heir?” Leda asked softly. “You weren’t even a capo.”

 

“He said it was a debt,” I told her, my teeth grinding together. “A debt owed to my mother.” I snorted. “The bitch who sold me to him for her next hit.”

 

I didn’t even know he knew her until after he died. The will was straightforward. He was absolving himself of everything he owed her, and making me the Don of the Mafia that he built was the ultimate payment.

 

To this day, I never knew why. I stood up and walked over to the railing, clutching it as memories of the day I was made Don washed over me.