Chapter 1
If I knew who they were before, I would have never accepted the order but of course, hindsight was always a very beautiful thing.
It was also a lie.
This was the biggest order I had taken on this year, so I never would have declined it.
Actually, that was another lie.
This was the biggest order I had taken on. Ever. And that included when I used to work for a very famous florist chain.
The truth was, as the owner and only employee of Delgado’s Flowers which had been up and running for nearly a year, business wasn’t as fast as I would have liked, and I needed all the orders I could get. That included catering flowers for a mafia engagement.
That’s right. You heard me correctly.
I, straight-ass Mariana Delgado who didn’t even jaywalk because it was against the law, was supplying the flowers for a mafia engagement party.
Delgado’s Flowers was so much more than my Instagram page. It was my dream. As a single mother of a five-year-old, money was tight, and this business was the only thing to keep a roof over our heads and put food on our plates. It didn’t matter that sometimes I was driving my van all over New York to deliver bouquets, or that I was up all hours of the night to keep on top of the business. All that mattered was seeing my son happy and being able to give him the life I always wanted.
Just thinking of my baby brought a smile to my face. He would have loved to be here right now, but he had school in the morning, so I left him with the babysitter. Unlike me, the awkward person who never attended parties and if I did, I hardly ventured further than the corner, Thiago was the life of the party wherever he went. He spoke to everyone he met like he had known them his whole life, and they couldn’t help but fall in love with him. My Thiago was charming like his papa. I was grateful his charm was one of the few things he got from his papa.
“Anything to drink?” A server asked politely.
“No, thank you.” I shook my head, holding up my lemonade that I had only taken a few sips of so far.
The server smiled at me and turned around to leave. My eyes immediately landed on his waist and the bulge at the back, badly concealed by his suit jacket.
I realised what it was straight away.
A gun.
I knew this was a mafia engagement party as soon as I stepped into the hall. Not because Benedetta had mentioned it, but because I recognised Massimo Mancini in the foyer. I had seen the Mancini mafia boss many times before. On newspapers. News articles. Even on the local news a few times. But this was the first time seeing him in person. He was on the phone and not paying attention to me, but his two bodyguards had eyed me up. In turn, I eyed up the guns they didn’t bother to hide as they watched me carefully. No doubt wondering if I was going to cause any trouble.
If Benedetta hadn’t spotted me from the hall and ushered me in, I would have jumped back into my van and sped away.
I didn’t do well with controlling, domineering men. I had had enough of that kind of man in my life–there was a reason I was a single mother–and I didn’t need to know Massimo Mancini to know that’s exactly the kind of man he was, as well as all those around him.
I had met Benedetta a few times to discuss and organise her flowers for her engagement party to her new fiancé, Riz, and not once did I suspect that she had any ties with the mafia. I knew she was a lawyer and partner at a well-known law firm in the city. She seemed like the kind of woman that didn’t take shit from anyone, so I was really surprised to see Massimo Mancini at her engagement party. Even more so when he came over to praise her on her party organisation skills.
When I spotted the mafia boss heading toward us, I excused myself and rushed off to get the flowers out of my van. Thankfully, I was left to my own devices as I set up the flowers around the hall as instructed by Benedetta earlier.
After I was done, Benedetta sought me out for my payment. I was grateful for the generous tip, but I was even more grateful when she expressed her desire for me to supply the flowers for her wedding as well this summer. I agreed instantly and she made me promise to stick around, mingle, and enjoy the party.
And now, unable to leave early without looking rude and unappreciative, I was standing in the corner sipping on my lemonade and watching the crowd.
As much as I hated to admit it, business from the Mancini mafia would be great for Delgado’s Flowers. I could only assume that they threw lavish parties like this. I was lucky enough that Benedetta had come across an ad of mine on Instagram and liked what she saw. If her friends and family at this party–powerful people, I could only assume–also liked my work, that could mean I could stop worrying about my son’s future. At the very least, I could stop worrying about being able to afford rent, food, and bills every month.
I would never let my little Thiago know, but it was more often than not that I skipped dinner after promising him that I would eat after putting him to bed at night.
My eyes flitted toward the flower wall across the room. It was my first, and I had spent all night getting it ready in time for the engagement party today. It was long and tiring and required lots of coffee to fuel me but seeing the overjoyed look on Benedetta’s face when she first saw it made it all worth it.
I wasn’t only in this business for the flowers. I certainly wasn’t in it for the money.
The happiness my work gave my customers on their special day was priceless. Now, if I could bottle that up and sell it, it would surely make me a millionaire.
Speaking of millionaires–let’s be honest, they were probably billionaires with their generational wealth–I spied Benedetta, and some others herd a group of men for a photo in front of the photo wall. I recognised Massimo and Fabrizio Mancini from TV two years ago and assumed the other five were the rest of their brothers.
I wouldn’t dare admit it aloud, but the Mancinis were a handsome bunch. None of them looked particularly alike each other, all with different hair colours, skin tones and features, but you could still tell they were related. Perhaps it was the way that even though they all looked different, they still resembled their father in some way, or perhaps it was they regarded each other with some comfortable reality. As the middle child of five siblings, I knew what it was like to come from a big family. My two elder brothers were close, as were my two younger ones, but that didn’t seem to be the case with the Mancinis.
Benedetta and some other women were trying to take pictures of the brothers, and they were making it difficult with the constant teasing, laughs and jokes. It reminded me of being back with my family. It was like that with us as well when we got together to take pictures, but I never had my person like my brothers did.
I was the only daughter. The only daughter.
The forgotten child.
When a pair of smouldering brown eyes met mine across the room, I snapped out of my daze.
He was standing in the middle with his arm curled around Massimo and had been smiling for the camera only moments ago. Now, his eyes were set on me, and his smile was more of a smirk.
I was quick to look away.
I knew men like him. Powerful. Dominant. Charming. He was handsome, and just like the rest of them, he knew it. His hair was a coppery bronze, as was his beard, and looked nothing short of delicious against the tan shade of his skin–only a shade or two lighter than mine. He fell an inch or two shorter than his eldest brother, but his aura screamed power, nonetheless. He was dressed immaculately in a three-piece black suit, and a smirk so sinfully sexy it had to be illegal.
I had been with men like him and let me tell you, never again.
Men like him, men like my ex, were nothing but trouble. It was good at first. It was always good at first, but once the façade wore off, you were left living a nightmare.
I had already been there, done that, and when I eventually left, I promised myself I would never allow myself to fall for a man like that ever again. Not just for my sake, but my son’s, as well.
The last thing I wanted was for my sweet Thiago to turn out like his papa.
When they finished taking pictures, allowing the next group a turn, I watched as they dispatched. The brothers broke into several smaller groups, their women joining them, but my eyes landed on a tall blonde who slipped away when she thought no one was looking. She kept her head down as she headed to the food table, but even then, the confidence oozed off her in waves. I usually avoided women like her as well because her confidence intimidated me, but there was something about this woman that drew me to her. Something which had me staring at her, watching as she glanced around the table for something of her fancy.
She moved gracefully down, eyeing some crackers on a cheese board. She reached out for one, but her face quickly started to turn green. Abandoning the crackers, she pressed a hand to her mouth and rushed down the table and away from the pungent cheese, settling on a glass of soda instead to settle her stomach.
The woman still looked a little queasy and eyed the crackers on the other side of the table with longing.
I recognised that look perfectly. It was how I imagined I must have looked when I first found out I was pregnant with Thiago nearly six years ago now.
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Layla Knight
