Guzzi Legacy Duet, #2
Publication Date: August 5, 2019
Genres: Adult, Romantic Suspense, Organized Crime. Erotic Romance, MMF
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The son of a prominent Cosa Nostra Don, Corrado Guzzi’s life should have been all mapped out. He would be what every other Guzzi man was, too—made, mafia. It’s their way. But when given another choice, the chance to be something more, he takes it. Even if it comes with strings.
It’s there that he might find where he belongs, and Alessio Sorrento. The man who could change his whole life.
This love thing? It should have been easy, but they made it hard. Nothing about a relationship like theirs is simple. Dictated by rules, weighed down with things left unsaid, and already hanging by a frayed thread.
This is what love looks like before, and after.
Before she came along.
And after she was there.
It takes one woman to change everything.
Ginevra Calabrese wasn’t ready for this—for them.
So, what happens now?
NOTE: Corrado (book one) and Alessio (book two) are a duet within The Guzzi Legacy series, and should be read in order. All other titles in the series are standalone. This is NOT a love triangle.
“A happy birthday,” Dare said.
Alessio almost smiled, but pain was a fucking bitch. Twenty-three years old today, and he’d forgotten. Someone else had to remind him. Appropriate for it to be Dare. At the darkest points in his life, Dare always remembered his birthday for whatever reason.
“Is it, though?” he asked.
“A happy day.”
Dare made a noise under his breath as Gian Guzzi came to sit next to Alessio in the wicker chair beside his. Corrado’s father said nothing, dressed in his night clothes with a black robe tightened at his middle, he stared over the back property, and rested his hand along his jaw as he waited for Alessio to finish his conversation. It was late for the man to still be awake.
“Ignore me,” he muttered. “Thinking out loud.”
But also not a lie.
This wasn’t a happy day.
And tomorrow didn’t look good, either.
Welcome to his life, lately.
“Why don’t you take a break, come back here for a bit, and reset—”
In the call’s background, Dare confirmed what Cree asked. A shuffle of the phone sounded before more movement echoed through the speakers. Alessio heard the slam of a door before Cree came onto the phone.
“Where are you?” Cree demanded.
Alessio arched a brow over at Gian. The man didn’t even glance his way. “Away.”
Cree let out a harsh sound. “You don’t call people?”
“I’m a grown man, I can—”
“Tell the people who give a fuck that you’re safe, Les.”
His throat jumped as he swallowed back a biting retort that would have only saved his pride but hurt someone else. “I’m safe.”
A second passed. Cree sighed. “Good.” Then, after a brief pause, he added, “Corrado called two days ago looking for you. You should at least tell him where you are, Les. You don’t have to go back—I understand things are going on that hurt you, but he’s worried.”
Good for him.
Because he hadn’t given a shit about Alessio before.
As fast as the seed of doubt drifted through his mind, the pain following behind just as fast, Alessio tipped his head down, and shook it away. It wasn’t true, and a huge part of why this happened was because Corrado hadn’t wanted to hurt him.
Yet, here they stood.
The same result.
Alessio didn’t do well with pain, and especially not if someone he loved caused it. He had a handle on this shit—this thing between them. He assumed they were comfortable, but this had taught him he had been lying to himself.
It took nothing to be ruined.
Nothing but a woman.
“I’m not calling him,” Alessio said, “there’s nothing for me to say.”
Hadn’t he said enough when he showed up to the penthouse over a week ago? He believed so. His words had cut with each one said—landing like knives against the man he loved to the ends of the earth and back. Alessio didn’t need Corrado to tell him how much he hurt him with the things he said. He was aware.
But that was good, too.
Why should Alessio be the only one to hurt?
He wouldn’t be alone.
He needed to get his shit figured out before he went back for a second round. He didn’t want to keep cutting into Corrado. As much as he hurt, it wasn’t fair he continued hurting Corrado, too.
Because he loved.
He gave a shit.
He would have never done this to Corrado.
READ WHERE IT ALL STARTED…
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Ginevra wiped away the one tear that escaped the corner of her eye as the elevator came to a stop on the highest floor. It opened to the hallway leading to the penthouse. She took another quick, deep breath; she had her weak moment in private, and now it was done.
Soon—surely—she would be back home in New York with her sisters. Back where she belonged, and far away from a complicated man, and whatever mess he had dragged her into here. That’s what would happen.
Ginevra unlocked the penthouse and opened the door to the dark entry. She couldn’t remember if Corrado had turned off the lights when they left, or not. Probably, though. Kicking off the heels and pulling down the wet straps of the dress around her arms, she tried to remember where the light switch was for the damn entry.
Then, the lights came on.
All at once.
She spun around fast, letting go of the straps of her dress as she froze in place at the sight of a stranger leaning against the wall at the very end of the hallway. A man, actually. His shaggy, dark hair hung over his eyes, and yet even through the dark strands, she could still see the stormy blue eyeing her from the side.
His lips, the lower fuller than the top, stayed affixed in a grim line as he chewed on something in his mouth—gum, maybe? Her gaze traveled over the golden hoops in his nose, his steel cut jaw line, and the few days’ worth of facial hair covering his cheeks and throat. Even under the leather jacket he wore, and the black jeans that molded to his thighs and ass, she could plainly see he was fit by the way the material of his white T-shirt stretched across the bands of muscle that made up his chest.
He leaned against the wall like he didn’t have a care in the world, his black, scuffed combat boots hooked one over the other, despite the fact she could clearly see the tension wrapping his body. Like he was forcing himself to stay right there, and not come any closer.
He was devastating.
That was the first and only word to come to her mind.
A lot like Corrado, really. That first look at him had made her silent, and took away her breath, too. This was no different.
Except she didn’t know this man, and why in the hell was he here?
“Who are you?” she asked, her voice faint.
The man smiled.
Just a ghost of one, though.
He lifted his head a bit, giving her a better view of the planes that made up his handsome face, and the war that raged in his stare. “Alessio Sorrento—I like Les, though.”
That text …
“But it ain’t about me, is it?” Alessio asked, his voice a deep bass that came off both edgy and dark. “Lately, it’s been all about you, Ginevra.”
How did he know her name?
She wondered …
No one had said either way—man or woman, they didn’t say who the other person was for Corrado. She hadn’t assumed, but a part of her just figured it was a woman because that was the default. Not that she cared either way who someone loved or fucked behind closed doors. That was their business, and as long as people were happy, what did it matter?
But now, staring at this man, and the way he looked at her like he was both curious, but he wished she would drop dead on the fucking spot, too, made her think …
This was him.
This man was Corrado’s … person. They were a them before Ginevra ever came into the picture, clearly. Those shoes with different sizes on the rack when she first arrived at the penthouse; the different style jackets, like they belonged to entirely different personalities; the offhanded remarks Corrado made without realizing it—and we use it, he’d said—and then ignored when she questioned him; or even his hesitations when he nearly slipped up like telling her the master bedroom was his, but he’d almost said something different.
She knew now.
It meant these two men had been a thing for a while. She was in the middle. He came before her. She understood what she had missed.
It hurt worse because of it.
“Yeah, it’s been all about you, huh?” Alessio smirked, adding lower, “And I’m here to find out why that is.”
Bethany-Kris is a Canadian author, lover of much, and mother to four young sons, one cat, and two dogs. A small town in Eastern Canada where she was born and raised is where she has always called home. With her boys under her feet, snuggling cat, barking dogs, and a hubby calling over his shoulder, she is nearly always writing something … when she can find the time.
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