A Debt To Pay (Leone Legacy #1)

Chapter 1

Luci

I ’m convinced today is the longest day of existence. I know this internship is important, but add law school, and I barely have time to breathe. Forget about the fact that I’m doing this because it’s what my family thinks is best, not what I want.

As I’m walking to my car, I decide to sneak into a bar before heading home. One drink won’t make my nonno go berserk on me. Right? There is only one way to find out.

Several minutes later, I sip on my vodka cranberry while fiddling with the crucifix on my necklace when I sense someone’s eyes on me and turn my head. My lips slightly part and I blink twice, trying to process the man gazing in my direction. His energy is intense, with magnetic dark eyes that match his hair, and he has the perfect amount of stubble on his cheeks and jawline to look intentionally rough. He’s the definition of tall, dark, and handsome.

Afraid that I am gawking, I focus back on my drink, strumming my fingers on the glass. My body tenses as I try to control the need to find friction to appease the sudden ache between my legs. I remind myself of Sunday’s Mass service and what the priest said about lust as I mutter to myself. “It is God’s will that you should be sanctified: that you should avoid sexual immorality.” I’m busy recalling the details of Sunday’s homily, unaware that he’s approached me until he speaks.

“Can I buy you your next drink?” His voice is deep and smooth, like expensive wine.

I realize then that the glass is empty. When did that happen?

“I’m okay. I should get home. It’s an hour’s drive back and I’d be shocked if my nonno isn’t hysterical. Italians—who knew they were dramatic. Now I’m babbling. Sorry.”

“You have no idea,” He mutters, almost to himself, then continues, “Please babble on, but make sure it’s with a drink I’ve bought you. One more, then you can go home and deal with the wrath of Nonno.”

He sits on the stool next to me when I agree to one more drink and I have to say, at the time it’s a fantastic idea. As we speak, I come to find out we have a lot in common. For one, our families are both from Italy. He moved here several years ago while my family has been here since my grandparents eloped over forty years ago.

When I ask my grandparents why they left, they always say the same thing: “Luci, you cannot focus on the past when you have such a bright future.”

This man in front of me is exactly the kind of guy Nonno mentioned he wants in a husband for me. Handsome, charming, well-dressed, polite, and most of all . . . Italian. He snaps me out of my daydream about our wedding and future children with another question.

“What are you studying?” he asks, nodding at my backpack.

“I’m in law school,” I say with enough attitude that I could feel my mamma’s glare without her being here.

“That didn’t sound too enthusiastic,” he states bluntly.

“It’s what my family thinks I should do, but if I had a choice, I’d do something else. I love my family, but I tend to forget about myself while aiming to satisfy them. It’s too late to change, anyway. I graduate in the spring.” I try to blink tears away but miss one as it sneaks down my face—stupid emotions. Drinking or not, I can cry at the drop of a hat.

He wipes it away, sending a gentle shock that causes goosebumps to pebble my skin. “You’re a people pleaser,” he says as a statement rather than a question.

“I want my family to be proud of me. They’ve done anything and everything that I need. I can do this for them.”

“Meaning you are a people pleaser. At least for the ones you love. What would you want to do?”

“I have no idea, which is crazy because we’re expected to know what we want to do for the rest of our lives before our brains are fully developed. Do you know about 30 percent of people change careers after they’ve finished school?” Realizing I’m babbling again, I turn to him.

Heat flushes my face, not because of the drinks or my babbling, but because of how he sees me. He stares at me like the rest of the world doesn’t exist or he can see directly into my soul. This has to be a dream. This is something that happens in books and movies, not in real life. At least not in my life.

Oh no! I realize I’ve lost track of time when my phone lights up. The screen shows several missed calls from Nonno, no doubt in a panic, and a few surprisingly calm texts from Mamma.

“Shoot! I have to go. I lost track of time and my nonno is mad.”

“What is he, your keeper?” I’m not sure if he’s trying to be funny or if he’s frank in the way he speaks.

“He cares about my safety so he tends to worry. I better go. Thank you for the drink and company. It was wonderful meeting you . . . ?”

“Alessandro. It was wonderful to meet you too, Luciana. Can I drive you home?”

“No, I live an hour away. I can’t inconvenience you. I drove anyway.”

“At least let me walk you to your car.” He doesn’t give me the opportunity to decline before he grabs my backpack and escorts me out of the bar.

The sun has set, and the crisp air tells me that fall is closer than I realize. Wait, he’s talking to me. I need to listen.

“Where is your family from in Italy?” he asks.

“I don’t know. My grandparents never speak about their lives before living here. They preach about the importance of our culture and heritage, but they pretend the first eighteen years of their lives don’t exist. Also, they shut me down anytime I’ve tried asking, so I stopped a while ago.”

“I find this encounter quite interesting.” His cold eyes meet mine when he turns to me, causing my body to stiffen.

“W-what about it?” Unease builds inside of me.

“That I know more about your family than you do.”

“What are you talking about?”

He brushes the back of his fingers down the side of my face, sending a shiver up my spine. People talk about fight or flight, but they forgot to mention the last one . . . freeze. And that’s what I do. I freeze. “Sweet Luciana, you’ll find out soon.”

I want to hound him for more information when he gets closer. His eyes get darker and I realize I’ve made a huge mistake letting him talk me into a second drink. He takes another step in my direction and I take two back, running into a solid piece of muscle, and turn around slowly. The man behind me is taller than Alessandro and built like a professional wrestler. I’m caged between these two men when Alessandro says, “Take her, Marco.”

When I whip my body around to scream, I’m met by a stabbing pain in my neck and hand over my mouth. I realize as I’m staring into Alessandro’s now almost black eyes that he knows my name. A name I never gave him. I don’t have enough time to ask him about it before I give into whatever was injected into my neck and slip away into unconsciousness.