The Pact Book 2

“I can’t thank you enough.”

“No need for thanks, Allie,” Christian, my cousin, says with a sigh. “You’re family. You’re always welcome here.”

“And we adore our handsome little man!” Frankie gives my five-year-old son Noah a squeeze, making him giggle.

We’ve been staying with them in New York for the past two months.

Christian and Francesca De Luca, along with their two daughters, Claudia and Ellena, split their time between New York and Sicily, living six months in each place.

It’s a lifestyle that’s easy to maintain when you’re billionaires.

“Mama, do we have to go home?” Noah asks, his Italian accent making his words sound even more endearing.

“Yes, my love. Your grandpa needs us back at the restaurant.”

I look down at my beautiful boy. He’s my joy. Noah is my world. He wasn’t planned, but that doesn’t make me love him any less.

I won’t let him suffer for my poor choices. Choices that include a one-night stand with a hot stranger on New Year’s Eve, a man whose name I don’t even remember.

I do recall his captivating green eyes, but now I see them everywhere in Sicily, including in my Noah.

“You look deep in thought,” Christian observes, a worried look on his face.

“Am I doing the right thing for him?” I ask, and Christian sighs.

“Absolutely. His father was a fool who wanted a one-night stand—”

“I didn’t exactly—”

“Let me finish. He’s a fool because he didn’t see how wonderful you are. You’re incredible, Allie. The fact that you’re raising Noah on your own proves that.”

After leaving Noah with Christian and Frankie, I head to the one place I need to be right now. Our family restaurant, the Romano family’s pride and joy.

“Oh, Papa.” I sigh, resting my head in my hands on the bar. I thought my father would live forever—he was stubborn enough—but here I am, holding back tears after his funeral.

The front door chimes, but I don’t bother to look up.

“We’re closed,” I say in Italian.

“Alexandria Romano?” a man’s voice asks.

“I said we’re—”

“Closed. I heard.” I snap my head up to face the intruder. “Are you Alexandria Romano?”

“Who wants to know?”

“I’m Sylvester Ferraro,” he extends his hand, but I don’t take it. I’ve heard of the Ferraros, and not just because of their multimillion-dollar business or their luxury hotels.

“Leave.”

Sylvester raises his hands in surrender, a small smirk playing on his lips.

“I mean no harm. Your father and mine had an agreement, and, well, it’s that time of the month.”

“My father is dead.”

“That means our agreement now falls to you.”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“Leave,” I repeat, but Sylvester just smiles.

“I’ll be back in a few days, Ms. Romano.”

He leaves without another word, and I lock the front door in a daze, hoping to avoid any more surprises.

“What have you done, Papa?”

“Did you sleep here?” Christian’s voice startles me awake, and I nearly fall off my barstool.

“Seems like it,” I mumble.

“What happened, Allie?” he asks, eyeing the empty scotch bottle in front of me.

“Did you know Dad was having financial problems?”

“He didn’t mention anything.”

“Me neither. That’s why I was surprised when Sylvester Ferraro showed up last night.”

“Did he harm you?”

“No. He just said he’d be back in a few days.”

I lead Christian into my father’s office, and we start going through the books. The restaurant isn’t just struggling—it’s failing.

I hold back a sob, and Christian sighs.

“You didn’t know?”

“No, he never said anything.”

“Maybe he was too proud.”

“Well, look where that got him,” I snap. “You idiot, Papa!” I yell at the ceiling, letting my emotions take over.

“You need some real sleep, Allie, not just drunken sleep.”

“But I need to—”

“Sleep. The restaurant isn’t going anywhere. Open tomorrow night. Right now, you need to sleep.”

“What about the Ferraros?”

“I’ll handle it.”

I let Christian guide me into the town car that takes me back to the De Luca’s Italian mansion. My family home could fit inside it a hundred times over.

“Have a good day, Ms. Romano,” Christian’s driver says as he opens my door.

“Thank you,” I reply softly, and I head toward the house. It’s quiet inside, which makes me think everyone is still asleep.

“Christian told me to send you straight to bed when you arrived.” Frankie’s voice startles me.

“I should check on Noah.”

“He’s fine.”

“But—”

“Bed.”

“You remind me of my grandmother.”

“You’re welcome.” Frankie winks before pointing upstairs one more time. I sigh and follow her directions.

Maybe I do need sleep.

Alexandria Romano was a surprise. I hadn’t even known old man Romano had a daughter until he passed away.

I could’ve turned my back, I should’ve turned my back. The debt the Romanos owed was chump change, but I was looking for any reason to be near someone so breathtakingly beautiful.

The moment I said my name, her face said it all. She knew exactly who I was, who my family was. She knew what we represented, and she hated it.

Her face twisted, her nose crinkling just a bit; it would’ve been adorable if her disgust wasn’t directed at me.

“Did the Romano girl pay up?” my brother Jonathan asks as I walk in.

“Nope. She gave me an earful.”

My other brother, Maximus, chuckles.

“Don’t sweat it. We don’t need it. His debt was almost cleared,” Jonathan says, shrugging it off.

“No,” I counter. “What kind of message does that send? You die and your debt just disappears? That’s a bad precedent.” My brothers give me a curious look.

“So, how turned on were you?” Max asks.

“What?”

“Just curious if you’re thinking with your dick.” Max smirks, and before I can smack him, Jonathan’s phone rings, cutting the tension. We all recognize that ringtone.

The boss.

Marcello Morretti was born the head of his own faction, and when he married our cousin Anna, the operations merged.

“Ferraro,” Jonathan answers. He nods along with whatever Marcello is saying before switching his phone to speaker.

“We’re all here,” Jonathan says in English.

“Which one of you just cost me a billion dollars?” Marcello bellows over the line, and the three of us exchange confused glances.

“Uh…we have no clue what you’re talking about,” Max says softly.

“Christian De Luca just withdrew a billion dollars from a new Sparrow Industries resort because we, to quote him, ‘messed with his family.’ Who’s responsible?”

Again, we exchange glances.

“None of us have messed with the De Lucas,” I say.

“I didn’t know they were in town,” Jonathan adds.

“No, not the De Lucas. His mother’s family, Romano.”

“Shit,” I mutter as my brothers glare at me.

“Well?”

“I just went to collect. The old man borrowed and it was time to pay,” I explain.

“How much?”

“A few thousand.”

“You cost me a billion for a few thousand? Are you fucking kidding me, Sly?”

“I was just doing my job.”

“Well, I’m giving you a new one. Your top priority is to make nice with Alexandria Romano and get her to convince Christian to reinvest. I don’t care how you do it. Treat her like a damn queen!”

Marcello hangs up before I can argue.

“Told you,” Jonathan says, and Max laughs.

“Both of you can fuck off.”

The Romano is bustling when I arrive. After being closed for a few days, it seems the locals are rallying behind the family business. A young hostess greets me as I walk in.

“Good evening, sir, do you have a reservation?”

“No, but I was hoping to speak with Ms. Romano?”

“Allie?” she clarifies, and I nod. “Is she expecting you?”

“No.”

She hesitates for a moment before pulling out her phone. Her fingers fly across the screen, and about a minute later she looks up.

“She’s on her way.”

“Thank you.” I step aside, allowing her to greet the next customer.

I watch as Alexandria emerges from the back of the restaurant. She glides through the room, smiling at the customers. Her smile vanishes the moment she sees me.

“You’re not welcome here,” she hisses quietly.

“I just want to talk, Alexandria.”

“Ms. Romano,” she corrects me. I ignore her.

“Can we talk in your office?” Her brow furrows.

“Outside.” Without warning, her small, cold hand wraps around my wrist, and she’s pulling me out of the restaurant.

The cold air hits us, and I see her shiver. I start to offer her my jacket, but she holds up her hands, stopping me.

“Don’t.”

“You’re cold.”

“I’ll survive.”

“I was trying to be a gentleman.”

“Good for you.”

“You don’t like me.”

“You’re a quick one. What do you want?”

“Your debts have been cleared.”

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t owe my family anymore.”

She nods, and I see the corners of her mouth twitch upward slightly.

“Good. Well, goodbye then.” She starts toward the door, but I grab her hand.

“Wait.”

She looks back at me, curiosity in her eyes. She doesn’t move, but she pulls her hand from mine and raises an eyebrow, waiting for me to speak.

“Dinner.”

“What about it?”

“Let me take you to dinner.”

“No.”

“Lunch?”

“No.”

“Coffee?”

“No.”

“I want to make it up to you, Alexandria. I want to make things right.”

“Ms. Romano,” she corrects again. “And there’s no need. No hard feelings.”

“Friends?” I ask, offering a genuine smile, and she gives me a small one in return.

“Sure.”

“Are you saying that just to get rid of me?”

“Yes.”

“Well, at least you’re honest.”

“That makes one of us,” she retorts, and it stings more than I let on.

“My friends call me Sly.”

“How fitting.”

We stand in silence before Alexandria shivers again. “I should get back to work.”

“Do you have a table available?”

“Why?”

“So, what else would I do at a restaurant if not eat?”

Alexandria rolls her eyes, and I can tell she’s biting back her irritation. Without uttering a word, she spins around and strides back through the entrance.

Not knowing what else to do, I trail behind her.

By the time I step through the door, I see her engaged in conversation with the young hostess.

“Lucy, make sure Mr. Ferraro gets to pick his table.”

“Sure thing, Allie.”

I stand there, stunned, as Alexandria disappears into her office, leaving me with Lucy, the young hostess, who’s batting her eyelashes at me.

“Would you like to follow me?” She picks up a menu, and like a good boy, I follow her onto the restaurant floor. I glance back over my shoulder in the direction Alexandria disappeared and let out a sigh.