For the Love of Luca Read online

  For the Love of Luca

  Chicago Syndicate, Volume 8

  Soraya Naomi

  Published by Soraya Naomi, 2018.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  FOR THE LOVE OF LUCA

  First edition. April 17, 2018.

  Copyright © 2018 Soraya Naomi.

  Written by Soraya Naomi.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  PROLOGUE | Fallon

  CHAPTER 1 | Luca

  CHAPTER 2 | Fallon

  CHAPTER 3 | Luca

  CHAPTER 4 | Fallon

  CHAPTER 5 | Luca

  CHAPTER 6 | Fallon

  CHAPTER 7 | Luca

  CHAPTER 8 | Fallon

  CHAPTER 9 | Luca

  CHAPTER 10 | Fallon

  CHAPTER 11 | Luca

  CHAPTER 12 | Fallon

  CHAPTER 13 | Fallon

  CHAPTER 14 | Fallon

  CHAPTER 15 | Fallon

  CHAPTER 16 | Fallon

  CHAPTER 17 | Luca

  CHAPTER 18 | Fallon

  CHAPTER 19 | Fallon

  CHAPTER 20 | Luca

  CHAPTER 21 | Fallon

  CHAPTER 22 | Fallon

  CHAPTER 23 | Luca

  CHAPTER 24 | Fallon

  CHAPTER 25 | Fallon

  CHAPTER 26 | Fallon

  CHAPTER 27 | Fallon

  CHAPTER 28 | Fallon

  CHAPTER 29 | Luca

  CHAPTER 30 | Fallon

  CHAPTER 31 | Luca

  CHAPTER 32 | Fallon

  CHAPTER 33 | Luca

  CHAPTER 34 | Fallon

  CHAPTER 35 | Luca

  CHAPTER 36 | Fallon

  CHAPTER 37 | Luca

  CHAPTER 38 | Fallon

  CHAPTER 39 | Luca

  CHAPTER 40 | Fallon

  CHAPTER 41 | Luca

  CHAPTER 42 | Fallon

  EPILOGUE | Luca

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS | Soraya Naomi

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ABOUT THE NOVEL

  Sign up for Soraya Naomi's Mailing List

  “I don’t think man was meant to attain happiness so easily. Happiness is like those palaces in fairy tales whose gates are guarded by dragons: we must fight in order to conquer it.” ~ Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo.

  PROLOGUE

  Fallon

  I CAN HEAR MY PANICKED breaths roaring in my eardrums as I stand with trembling legs and the gun drops from my grasp, hitting the hardwood floor with a loud clunk. In complete disbelief, I gape at the body that’s sprawled by the couch, its beige fabric splattered with crimson streaks, and the stench of gunpowder infuses the air as I wipe the sweat from my upper lip.

  “Oh my god!” Clutching my hair with my hands, I edge backward, away from the horrific crime scene, not knowing what to do. Not even Luca will be able to help me now.

  Absolutely freaked, I run past the couch and go left down the hall, but when I reach our master bedroom, the elevator swooshes open and I stop.

  Luca steps out and turns right into the kitchen, scrubbing a palm over his square, neatly trimmed jaw as he flings his keys onto the island. As always, his muscular, six-foot frame radiates power and control and his disheveled dark hair topples over his forehead, giving him a forbidding look.

  Glancing to the side, he spots the blood on the cushions and freezes. Then, with infinite slowness, his gaze moves up and he looks down the hall to where I nervously stand in the doorway of our room. Our eyes meet, and his hard stare doesn’t release me from its hold.

  Taking one step forward, he peeks between the couch and coffee table before his unrelenting glare lands back on me and he advances toward me, barking, “What have you done?!”

  On instinct, I inch backward into the bedroom, but he grips my upper arms and lifts me to my tiptoes, repeating, “Fallon, what did you do?!”

  My vision blurs as I say, “I-I had to defend myself! I’m innocent!”

  Even though I’m not short, he towers over me, and as I smell his familiar citrus scent, I clench my fists to keep from pushing my hands into the V of his dress shirt, fighting the pull I feel toward him.

  “And I’ve told you to obey me!” He releases me as if I’ve burned him, but neither of us moves as he ignores my profession of innocence.

  I’m so tired of him being the underboss these days – constantly. The man who explains himself to no one yet expects everyone to submit to him.

  His deep voice exudes sensuality as it skitters over my flesh, until his tone becomes dangerously low when he adds, “I don’t know what to do with you anymore...” Anger sweeps across his face as he glowers at me, and then all the sorrow of the past few weeks blisters to the surface while his vivid green eyes bore into me. “You have no idea what you’ve done, Fallon!” Spinning around, he moves to the vanity and looks at me in the mirror, clenching his jaw before swiping everything off, his tightly leashed self-control gone.

  He isn’t the man who saved me and took care of me anymore. He’s no longer the man who promised to love me for the rest of my life and beyond on our wedding day.

  “What are you going to do?” I ask hesitantly.

  Turning around, he rubs a hand down his mouth and states resolutely, “You’re going to the Syndicate.”

  “No!” Without thinking, I barge out of the room, hearing him curse when I escape.

  “Fallon!” he roars and comes after me down the hall.

  But I dash into the living room, jumping over the couch and snatching the revolver from the floor before racing across the room to the front door with him close behind.

  When I reach the elevator, I press the button, swivel around, and aim the gun at Luca’s forehead, already knowing I’m screwed because I murdered a Syndicate member.

  He stops dead in his tracks at first but then inches forward and orders in a lethal tone, “Lower the gun.”

  CHAPTER 1

  Luca

  Four weeks ago

  “NOAH, DON’T YOU DARE pee on me. You’ve done that to daddy twice already,” Fallon warns around a wide smile.

  We lean over our three-month-old son while she changes his diaper on the glass desk in the office at Club 7, the dance club that I co-own with my boss and best friend, Adriano.

  My wife looks exquisite in a champagne-colored floor-length dress that hugs the curves of her hips which have become wider since her pregnancy. I tuck her long, wavy mahogany hair behind her ear just as Noah’s twin sister, Milana, who weighs absolutely nothing, stirs while I hold her with one arm. Smoothing her pink dress, I grip her tiny foot that’s covered in a white sock and rub it. When she sighs in contentment, it fills my soul with love like I never knew existed, and seeing my twenty-nine-year-old wife as a mother has made me adore her even more.

  As Fallon straightens and picks up Noah, stroking his sparse brown hair back, I gaze into her amber eyes that are so similar to my daughter’s. By now, I’ve memorized every line in her nearly make-up free face, and she’s still just as beautiful as the first time we met. I note that she’s wearing the gold drop earrings I bought her for our last anniversary, knowing how much she enjoys getting earrings since she never leaves the apartment without them.

  To this day, I don’t regret a second of how we met four years ago or how I lied about my line of work when we started dating. Even though we broke up when she discovered it, which caused me to spiral down a path of drinking and despair as my lonely soul became restless. Until ultimately, I understood that I couldn’t be without her because she’s my home. She’s my positive counterpart. And thank god, she began to accept my merciless world before we got marri
ed in Venice two and a half years ago.

  Fallon pulls me out of my thoughts when she speaks in a melancholic voice, “Noah looks just like my father when he was a baby. I’m so glad that he’s his namesake.”

  Evidently, she’s reminiscing about her parents, who she lost three years ago in a moment that altered the course of both our lives because we became each other’s sole family. My parents died in a car accident when I was ten, and although I was raised by my uncle, he currently resides in Italy.

  While she rocks Noah in her arms, he’s so sleepy that he dozes off before she places him inside the portable baby bed I set up beside the desk. Then I lay Milana next to her brother and move to stand behind Fallon, sneaking my arms around her waist and pulling her into me as we watch Milana grab Noah’s thumb.

  “Oh, that’s adorable,” Fallon mutters and lazes back against me, her delectable round ass pressing into my groin as her sweet ambrosia perfume wafts around me and I inhale deeply.

  “What are you thinking?” she asks, looking up and to the side, so I brush the tip of my nose down hers.

  “Sei una delizia, dolcezza.” You’re exquisite, sweetheart.

  Trailing my hand up her ribcage, I cup her breast, and she lets out a soft moan when I push my swelling dick into her ass.

  “No, Luca, not here,” she cautions.

  “No?” I repeat in a low voice, arcing a brow.

  “Yes, no,” she counters, her full lips curling upward. “I know you’re not used to hearing no, but there’s a wedding going on downstairs.”

  Disregarding her objection, I slide my palm down her lower stomach to the apex of her thighs and as we lean into each other, I make lazy circles, trying to seduce her. “We’re always interrupted by the twins and I haven’t been with you for days. I want you, Fallon.”

  “You’re not playing fair,” she utters around a strangled breath.

  I dip my head until my lips graze the shell of her ear, repeating the words I said to her many years ago, “I never play fair when it comes to you. And I want to ring in the new year inside you. Now.”

  Whimpering, she pushes into my hand, but the tight fabric of her dress prevents her from opening her legs.

  “Turn,” I order as I spin Fallon around before picking her up and setting her on the edge of the desk.

  Then I yank up her dress and wedge myself between her legs, shifting my hands to her ass. Pulling Fallon into me, I crash my lips down onto hers, and when she grips my nape, I kiss her hungrily, demanding her to open her mouth. The second she welcomes my tongue and returns my kiss, I eagerly taste her, groaning as her back bows, her body yielding to my touch. Fallon’s warm hands on my neck give me a sense of familiarity only her presence evokes. It’s what I always crave.

  I leave wet kisses from her lips to her throat and down to a hardened nipple, taking it into my mouth over the thin fabric of her dress and growling in appreciation when she tugs hard at my hair.

  Flustered and out of breath, Fallon rakes her nails down my back as I grind my pelvis against her and hook her right leg around my hip. Then I reach up, weaving my fingers through her hair, and tip her head back roughly to plunge my tongue inside her mouth again.

  “I need you.” I push the straining erection in my slacks against her, making her groan, and she wrenches my tux jacket down my arms but stops when there’s a knock on the door.

  “What?” I bark.

  “Adriano’s looking for you, Luca,” my head Capo, Logan, informs, and I expel a sigh, putting my jacket back on as Fallon grips the lapels.

  “I’ll be done in a few,” I answer as I rest my forehead against hers. “We’re finishing this at home.”

  She grins in agreement, tilting her face up, so I give her a brief kiss before stepping back. While Fallon pulls down her dress, I run my hands through my messy hair and straighten my bow tie.

  After checking that the twins are sleeping peacefully, Fallon and I exit Adriano’s office, and I entwine our hands while we stroll across the balconied second floor of Club 7. Going to the black staircase that leads to the large, brilliantly lit first floor, we descend it, careening around the glass bar that spans the right wall as the beat pulses against my eardrums. Tonight, the place isn’t packed like it usually is, although people are dancing in the center of the black and white tiled dance floor with a raised podium where the DJ is playing. There are also smaller raised platforms scattered around where professional dancers sometimes perform, but not now because Club 7 is closed down for a family wedding. The lights of dozens of gold chandeliers hanging from the fourteen-foot-high ceiling flicker, reflecting off people as they move, and the club is decorated with purple and white flowers.

  Fallon and I approach the far side of the room where our family is settled. But when the notes of ‘Brown Eyed Girl’ blast through the speakers, Fallon wheels around so fast that I almost mow over her. I steady her by her hips as she loops her arms around my neck, guiding me forward while she walks backward until we’re on the dance floor.

  “It’s our song, so Adriano can wait,” she says in her characteristic soft-spoken voice, gazing up at me with a look of total adoration.

  Winding my arms around her waist, I draw her against me until her breasts press into my chest. Then I sway her to the music, seeking out a shadowed area for a few more intimate moments. As everyone around us fades away, it’s as if we’re cocooned in our own little world, our hot breath mingling as I nuzzle her cheek and slide my palm down her spine until the tips of my fingers rest right above her ass. And I’m utterly captivated by her graceful manner, which is what attracted me to her in the first place, her relaxed influence settling the darkness that resided inside me.

  “Ti amo, dolcezza.” I love you, sweetheart.

  “I love you,” she whispers, going to her tiptoes, which makes her luscious body slide up my front, and a growl escapes me.

  She tightens her arms around my neck as I angle my mouth over hers, kissing her ravenously, but just when my cock stiffens, Fallon sends me a mischievous smile and steps back as the song ends.

  At that moment, I see one-and-a-half-year-old Amalia in her ivory flower girl dress hopping beside the long refreshment table until she finds some candy strewn on it and steals it. Then she peeks around and her round eyes widen when they lock with those of her father, Adriano, who’s seated across from her, folding back the sleeves of his dress shirt.

  With a smirk, he crooks his finger to beckon her over, and after he holds out his palm, she reluctantly gives him her loot as he explains, “It’s too late for candy, baby. You’ll get a tummy ache.”

  When she pouts, his grin grows wider and he takes her into his lap, tickling her sides until she breaks out in giggles and pecking the crown of her head just as we reach them.

  But before Adriano can speak, his wife, Cam, and Logan advance on us and Cam catches Adriano and me exchanging a glance.

  “No business tonight, gentlemen. You promised,” Cam reminds us, and Amalia jumps off Adriano’s lap as he stands up, sifting his fingers through Cam’s bob haircut to cup the back of her head and give her a hard kiss, placating her.

  Then when Fallon regards me expectantly, I press my lips to her forehead, saying, “Stay with Cam. I won’t be long.”

  Appeased, she and Cam join the happy couple on the dance floor.

  As soon they’re out of hearing distance, Adriano tells Logan and me, “Everyone in the office in fifteen minutes.”

  Logan and I nod and when Adriano saunters to the bar, we disperse so that our wives won’t notice all of us going upstairs.

  “I’ll let Henry know,” Logan comments, following Fallon to the bride and groom where he catches Henry’s eyes and mouths office, and Henry dips his chin in acknowledgement.

  Since Logan and Henry are going up first, Adriano and I remain downstairs to mingle, and as I pass Carmine, I inform him, “The office. Ten minutes. I’ll come last.”

  “Okay,” he replies while holding his newborn son, Brandon.
r />   I make another round before climbing up the staircase and crossing the balconied floor while I study Fallon talking to Cam below.

  Sometimes I omit details for my wife’s protection, and I always keep as much of my business as possible away from her. To lie or not lie – that’s still what it comes down to with us. Ultimately, Fallon and I aren’t a typical couple. Our relationship is anything but ordinary, but she accepts all of me. And even though she grew up as a normal civilian, she’s learned to deal with our way of living. To an extent. Above all, she’s my solace in the midst of a cold-blooded existence.

  When I enter the elegant white-painted office, everyone’s already arrived, so I shut the door behind me as Adriano closes the black floor-to-ceiling curtains in front of the arched windows and Carmine switches on one of the two giant chrome floor lamps that are located in opposite corners of the room.

  Then Adriano turns around to the portable baby bed and smiles, bending down to pick up Noah as he says, “Are you awake, little buddy?” And he glances at Henry. “You could’ve stayed with my sister.”

  “It’s okay. She’s preoccupied with the gifts,” he returns and sinks down into the padded chair in front of Adriano’s desk, loosening his bow tie and looking quite happy since he just married Adriano’s sister, Mary, who he’s loved for a long time.

  Logan and Carmine stand next to Adriano as he claims his chair behind his black glass desk, holding Noah against his chest, making him seem so small. Noah’s completely comfortable with his godfather, who’s been my best friend since we were seventeen. And now, at thirty-three, I’m the underboss of his organization, the Chicagoan Cosa Nostra, the mafia, which we both joined in our early twenties. Although none of us are blood related except for Adriano and Carmine, this is my true family, and I’d do anything to protect them without an ounce of remorse.

  Together, we form the five highest ranks of the Chicago Syndicate – Adriano is the boss, I’m his underboss, Logan is head captain, Carmine acts as Consigliere/counselor, and Henry is our hacker. The Syndicate rules the import and distribution of the purest heroin and cocaine in the state of Illinois, and we have a legion of captains who take care of the actual drug dealings in and around Chicago. We also have powerful associates in high places ranging from local law enforcement to the federal government and everything in between.