Broken Beginnings (The Moretti Crime Family 3)

When he looks away, I can finally move again, breathe again, and by the time I reach him, I’ve got my emotions and those pesky butterflies in check.

“How was your first day of school?” he asks without looking at me.

I follow his line of sight and discover he’s watching a group of guys that are standing outside a coffee shop a few feet away. The way he’s staring at them with barely constrained, murderous rage makes me want to laugh. All they’re doing is breathing and maybe drinking a cup of coffee, and I bet he’s thinking of a million ways to skin them like a rabbit.

“Um, it was good. It would be better if you weren’t staring at some of my potential friends like you want to skin them and hang them from a tree.”

Lucca moves so fast that all I can do is gasp as he crowds me with his body, blocking my view of the guys. Leaning into my face, he brushes a few strands of hair from my cheek. His touch is gentle, but the look in his eyes is violent.

“If you let another man touch you, I will cut off all their fingers and shove them down their fucking throat. Do you understand me?”

Earlier I was wondering what exactly I could do to make him jealous, to give him the push he needs to make a move, and I think he just gave me my answer.

“You don’t have to act so jealous. It’s not like I’m with you or your girlfriend.”

He drops his hand. “I’m not jealous.”

I tighten my hold on the strap of my backpack. “You keep saying that, but your actions say different.”

I take a step back, letting the air between us cool my now heated skin. Lucca does things to my body that I don’t understand, but that I want to explore only with him. Part of me wishes I was more experienced because maybe then he wouldn’t see me as this piece of fine china.

“Let’s go to dinner.”

“Dinner?” I give him a puzzled expression and check the time on my phone. “It’s like three in the afternoon.”

Lucca shrugs. “Who cares. We can swing through a drive-thru if you want.”

“I mean, I guess. If we have to.”

We walk toward the car. “What do you mean? Even the worst of men have to eat.”

“That’s true,” I reply, and a second later, my cell phone pings.

I check as soon as I’m inside the SUV. I can’t quite explain the joy I feel when I see it’s a message from Carter. Earlier I sent him a long-winded apology, and I didn’t expect to hear anything back from him.

“Why are you smiling at your phone?” Lucca asks defensively.

My brows pucker together, but in the back of my mind, I know exactly how to bend this to my winning. “Oh, nothing, just a funny message.”

I fire back a quick reply to Carter, who asked how I’m enjoying my time with Lucca.

Me: I’m not.

A second later, my phone pings again. Lucca pulls out of the parking lot, and out of the corner of my eye, I see his hands circling the steering wheel. He’s white-knuckling it. I can only imagine what he’s thinking.

“Where do you want to eat?” This time his words are gritted through his teeth.

Oh, yes, this is definitely working.

“Oh, I don’t know. You pick,” I say without looking up from my phone.

I check my message from Carter and let out a soft giggle at the laughing emoji he sent, followed by his message. My heart warms.

Carter: Yeah, I’ve heard he can be a shit roommate. Let me know if I need to come and rescue you.

I’m still partially watching Lucca and notice his gaze darting between me and the road. It’s obvious he is curious, but from the way his nostrils flare and his lip curls, he’s also possibly jealous? Maybe? Ignoring him, I type out my reply to Carter.

Me: How about now? I’m going insane.

“Are you going to talk to me or just stare at your phone, smiling?”

I suppress a smile. “Oh, yeah, sorry. Carter is messaging me.”

“Fucking Carter…” He grumbles under his breath, but loud enough for me to hear.

I don’t think I would find this nearly as funny if Lucca didn’t insist he wasn’t jealous. It’s clear he is. He’s just too stubborn to admit it.

“Hey, be nice to Carter. He’s my best friend.”

Lucca pins me with a glare as he pulls into the Chick-Fil-A parking lot. “You have no best friends. If you want a best friend, then I’ll be it.”

I bite my lip. I want to tell him that the last thing I want him to be is a friend, but know that right now isn’t the time.

“I don’t want you to be my best friend,” I tell him.

“Too bad. I don’t care what you want, in case that wasn’t already obvious.” He smiles, showing off his perfectly straight white teeth.