Page 10 of Legacy of Deception

“When.”

“When you become CEO, I want you to allow me to go back to Europe. I’ll keep my job as IT Director, but I want to do it remotely like eighty-eight percent of the top corporations worldwide allow for the position. I’m not opposed to traveling for work or even coming back occasionally, but I don’t want to be forced to return in the same way our father forces me.”

It appeared Lorenzo had already given more than a little thought to what he wanted but hadn’t been sure how to claim it. “Deal.” I had no problem letting my brother do things his way. It’d be a well-deserved reward for helping me get what I wanted.

“I’m not complaining, because I’ll be benefiting here, but why exactly are you doing this, Mad?” he asked, using the nickname he gave me when I was a boy, taking it from my initials—Marco Adrian Deluca. He always found it amusing when our mother yelled at me and would use my full name, so he made a nickname out of it. It didn’t catch on, thankfully, but every now and again he still used it.

“If I do this, then I won’t have to get married.” It was simple math in my mind.

I could see Lorenzo’s expression change and knew what he was thinking before he got his next words out. “And getting married is such a bad thing?” he asked as I was already shaking my head.

“It’s not when two people want to.” I arched a brow. “What? Why don’t you just say what else is on your mind?”

He sat back, lifted his leg, and leaned his elbow down to stroke his chin casually. “It’s nothing,” he said, his eyes closing briefly, as if he had to think on what he really wanted to say. When he reopened them, he smiled at me, showing the suave curve of his mouth that always had the opposite sex falling over their feet like teenage girls instead of the grown-ass women they were. “Only, I never would’ve expected you to do this.”

“You don’t think I have the balls?”

“Guess we’ll find out.” He swallowed before lifting his champagne glass again.

“Yeah, well, I’m sick of being treated like a pawn,” I said, my eyes narrowed as I stood up, thinking about the decision I’d made to play with fire. “I want to be at the helm, and if I want the goddamn equine centers from Briggs, then I’ll get them, but not because I married his troublemaker daughter.” And, on that note, when I thought about Brooklyn, I knew it was the best damn decision I could’ve ever made.

“Like I said, if this was Vito standing before me, I wouldn’t bat an eye, but you… I’m actually impressed.” He tipped his glass and smiled again. “To you, brother. May you outmaneuver the king.”

Chapter 5

tasted like blue raspberry

BROOKLYN

If anyone could make a situation worse, it was the man who insisted on calling me bella in a patronizing way.

He acted like I wanted this. Like I had asked for it. Well, I did not.

Unlike him, I saw no use in fighting the inevitable. Not after I’d tried and failed. It wasn’t one of my favorite words in the dictionary, but that didn’t make it any less true. The way I saw it, if I was supposed to be getting married, who said I couldn’t make the most of it? Maybe even enjoy the moments leading up to it?

Although, he certainly had a knack for ruining a moment. What we deserve is often at odds with what’s forced upon us. His pessimistic voice banged in my head, refusing to leave, like a chaotic tornado of thoughts swirling around until it left nothing but a debris-filled smoke cloud.

I mean, all I was asking for was for him to get down on one knee and present me with a ring. He didn’t have to recite some romantic poem or put any real thought into it. The ring didn’t have to be anything extravagant either. I would happily accept a pear-shaped halo diamond ring with a prong-set. Five carats would do, the color and clarity making other women weak in the knees. Of course, this would be to his advantage too. He wouldn’t have wanted men thinking I was single, now would he?

That wasn’t to say my dating history gave me much confidence in what the future held in that particular area. The last man I had been with wasn’t anything serious, just a one-night stand. Robert Lyons wasn’t exactly my type, and it wasn’t that I didn’t see the appeal in older men, but it wasn’t meant to be anything more than what it was. The only reason why I had been with him in the first place was because my father wanted to see if he could get Robert to want the equestrian centers.

Robert’s youngest son, Nathaniel Lyons, had become quite fond of his job at the center in Wellington. He was also rather good with the horses. Even the other employees raved about him. About how helpful he was. How he went above and beyond. How he was practically the definition of a team player. However, my father happened to think everyone was like him in that they wanted their children close. Which was why he hadn’t been able to see how Robert would refuse an opportunity to bring his son back into the fold at Lyons Enterprises by acquiring the center Nathaniel worked for. Although, I couldn’t see why he would’ve wanted to do that since word on the street had been he had never been treated well there. Supposedly, he had basically begged, borrowed, and stolen just to try to get in front of Robert and take the role of CEO from his older brother, Reddington Lyons.

Regardless, none of that mattered. Robert wasn’t having it. He hadn’t even so much as blinked when I had brought up my father’s offer. But I had been there, he had been interested in me, wanting to know more. We had gotten to talking, one thing had led to another, and we had slept together.

It wasn’t as though he was geriatric or anything, and he took care of himself. With salt-and-pepper-colored hair, hardly noticeable crow’s feet, and light blue, almost gray, eyes, he looked younger than his age.

“Does Brooklyn have something on her chin?” Frankie asked, jolting me from my thoughts. He shifted his camera. “Marco, maybe you want to put your thumb there and get that for her.”

“My finger is not a napkin, so…” He allowed his words to trail off, everything he needed to say already in those few words.

I almost felt sorry for the photographer who had been hired to take our engagement photographs. It wasn’t as though someone as skilled and well-known as Frankie Agro had been available, but he was Perla Morelli’s husband, which meant he was family to the Delucas. At least, that was the way they saw it with Dom having married Perla’s sister. That was how we wound up with him taking our photos along the line of brownstones in the West Village.

Brownstones were quintessential to New York, serving as a romantic and idyllic backdrop that captured the true essence of premier elegance. The story behind the setting would be that this was where we wanted to start our new beginning together. It was a great neighborhood and a perfect place to start a family, which we were both extremely eager to do. Or so I’d been told.

Marco had been stiff from the start, but he somehow grew more rigid under my touch. My hand was delicately on his bicep, my fingers close to but not exactly curling around it. “I don’t think he’s being literal, Sparky.”

My eyes roamed over his tense body in the slim-fit two-piece suit. The first three buttons of the white shirt were undone, the etched contours of his chest on display. His jacket was open. He wasn’t wearing a belt or socks, and his black leather Italian loafers were making the back of my neck prickle with sweat.