Beautiful Hell: The Mafia and His Maiden Book 1 Read online

  Special. No one had ever said he was special, nor made him feel special, except when he was with Georgina and baby Rose. But this man said he was special, and he felt it, like he was someone special in Big Boss’ eyes.

  “So. Will you come live with me?” Big Boss prodded him when he was lost in his own thoughts.

  Tyler wanted to go. He really wanted to, but he didn’t want to leave baby Rose behind. Rose was his family. Yeah, she might get adopted into another family in the future, but he didn’t want to separate from her. If he had to choose between baby Rose or Big Boss, his choice was baby Rose.

  “You seem reluctant,” Big Boss said, eyeing him with concern.

  “I don’t want to leave baby Rose behind,” he confessed.

  “Who is baby Rose?”

  “Baby Rose is one of the orphans here. She’s like my family.”

  Big Boss folded his arms and nodded his head intently. “I see you have a big dilemma. If you go with me, you will lose your family here.”

  Tyler nodded his head in agreement. His heart was going to break again. He thought he no longer cared, but the truth was, he really did want to get adopted.

  “Then there’s only one simple solution,” Big Boss said, and at that moment, Tyler knew, he had lost Big Boss’ interest. Big Boss would give up on—

  “I’ll have to take baby Rose into our family too,” Big Boss said in that instant, dispelling his worries. Tyler couldn’t believe his ears.

  “Really? You’ll really take her, too?” he asked, his eyes shining with excitement.

  “Yes. That way you’ll have your family with you. I’m sure baby Rose would fit nicely into our family.” Even better, Big Boss said, “And I’ll ask Georgina to come work for us, so you and baby Rose will have someone familiar to rely on.”

  Tyler was buzzing all over. This was totally unbelievable. His dream had come true. To be adopted by a family and also have people he loved with him too, his world was complete.

  “Thank you. Thank you.” Tyler couldn’t stop thanking Big Boss.

  Big Boss chuckled warmly and took Tyler’ little hands in his.

  “Well, that’s settles it, then. I came for one and got two. Today is my lucky day indeed. What’s your name?” Big Boss asked, and Tyler was only too happy to introduce himself.

  “Tyler,” he said proudly.

  “And your last name?” came the inevitable question, and his face fell.

  Tyler didn’t have a last name. Everyone at the orphanage had always called him Tyler since he could remember. “I don’t have one.”

  “You’re in luck, my boy,” Big Boss said, beaming so bright like the sun, Tyler could feel the warmth radiating off him. And at that moment, Tyler knew, this man would change his world forever. “I have the perfect last name for you. My name is Eugene Lorenzo. From now on, you will take my last name. And your new name will be Nikolas Lorenzo.”

  Chapter 1

  The Endless Nightmare

  Present Day

  * * *

  Bang!

  The sound of the gunshot rang in his ears and his world turned red. Literally. He was covered in blood. His father’s blood. The man whom he loved and cherished the most in the world fell over, his weight heavy on top of him. He was about to turn him over, when another shot fired through, hitting his father in the arm.

  He quickly pulled his father to the side in the hope of shielding him from further bullets, but it was too late. His father was losing too much blood. He tried to suppress the blood flow, but it wasn’t working. The damage was already done. His father was on his last dying breath.

  “Protect your brother.”

  He nodded his head. “I will, Dad. I’ll protect Gian.”

  He watched his father speak, each word becoming tougher with each breath he took. He leaned close, hearing those last few words, so powerful, they engraved deep in his soul.

  “Reform the clan. I love you, son.” And his father’s body went limp.

  Pain pierced at his heart, like a thousand knives stabbing into him. He could no longer suppress the tears from flowing. He screamed, gripping the body of his father until his knuckles turned white, begging him to wake up again. But his father was gone. Forever.

  A gust of wind picked up. He watched in horror as his father’s body disintegrated into nothing but dust. Suddenly, a rose bush sprouted from beneath the earth and a single red flower bloomed before his eyes. He plucked the rose, when suddenly the earth cracked open beneath his feet, plummeting him into the inferno pit below.

  With the single rose in hand, he was burned alive by the flames of hell.

  * * *

  Lorenzo screamed, and he jolted awake, gasping for air.

  “Lorenzo!”

  He startled, his eyes wide at the sound of a woman’s voice calling his name. He braced himself, his eyes blazing like a lion ready to attack, until he registered the face of the woman staring back at him with frightful eyes, and then he remembered where he was. This was his bedroom. This was his penthouse. This was his safe place. And she was…

  “Miranda.” He blinked, recognizing his mistress.

  Fuck! It was only a dream. The feeling was so surreal, he could still feel the heat of the flames burning his skin.

  But was it really a dream?

  He sighed, roughly combing his fingers through his hair in frustration. It was a nightmare, a reality where he had to relive over and over again the event that had happened that night, when he had witnessed his father getting shot. It was one of their last deals before fully reforming into a legitimate company. But that last deal had cost his father his life.

  “Lorenzo. What was that? You scared me,” Miranda spoke again, as if pissed off at him for waking her up.

  When she didn’t get an apology from him, she changed tactic, placing her head on his shoulder. He shifted and her head slipped off. She muttered something in distaste again. He didn’t care. He was agitated. He needed her gone. He hated people seeing him in this state, when he was at his most vulnerable.

  “You should go,” he said, rolling out of bed into a sitting position.

  “But, Lorenzo…”

  The feel of her soft hand on his back awakened something fierce within him, and he snapped. “I said get out. Now!”

  Miranda was startled at his change in demeanor. She eyed him in horror, her face etched with fright. She knew what she had gotten into when she had decided to become his mistress. People didn’t call him Boss for no reason. He was the son of Eugene Lorenzo, the most fearsome man in all of Chicago. And now that his father had passed on, he had taken over that role. Miranda had every right to fear him.

  He didn’t know how long he stayed in that position, his head buried between his hands, until he heard the soft click of the door, an indication that he was finally alone. He lifted his head and eyed his surroundings. His room was a fucking mess. His clothes were everywhere.

  They had sex last night, in celebration of being one step closer to becoming a legitimate company. Just like what his father had always wanted. And he was happy. So fucking pleased. Until he went to bed and had that fucking nightmare again.

  Fuck! He didn’t want to relive that memory. It was hell for him when the one man who had brought light into his life had died. He could only cope because his younger brother, Gian, was there beside him. It had taken him over six months before he could fully function again. And now that nightmare had come back to haunt him.

  He felt stifled. The room seemed to close in on him. He fought the feeling, but each breath just exacerbated the symptom even more. He needed to get out of here. He needed to find fresh air. He grabbed his robe and escaped to the one place he could relax. His rooftop garden. Standing at almost one thousand feet up in the air, at the top of the Lorenzo Corp building, this was his sanctuary.

  The cool midnight air greeted him with the fragrance of roses. He felt the relief instantly, his anxiety dissipating, blown away by the night breeze, leaving only the scent of roses cli
nging to him like a permanent lover.

  For a ruthless mafia like him, who’d taken countless lives in the seedy underbelly of Chicago, he couldn’t understand why he found roses to be so comforting. They were such fragile plants, their petals so delicate, like humans whom he could easily crush with his palms. Still, whatever it was, it always did the trick. The scent calmed him down and he relaxed.

  Soon it would all be over. Soon he’d get to wash his hands off all the dirty deeds and put his gun away for good. Soon he’d get to return to where he always wanted to be. His home. A lifetime away from all the drugs, the prostitution, and all the stupid fucking elites who thought they could rule the world. Just three more years and he would step down and retire. Gian, his younger brother, would be mature enough to take over as head of the Lorenzo clan.

  But before that, there was so much to do, because once Gian took over, their name, the Lorenzo, would no longer be associated with the mafia world.

  Being in the mafia world wasn’t half bad. It was better than being tossed to the side, lying half dead on the outskirts of Chicago in some dark alleyway. Hell, being leader of the Lorenzo clan was even better than better. It was fucking fantastic. He’d learned so many skills related to business that once he stepped down as mafia leader, he could make millions, billions, with the knowledge he’d gained.

  Lorenzo himself was already classified as one of the top billionaires, along with a handful of others, like Dawson, Julian, Justin, and—

  Giovanni. Fuck Giovanni!

  He never liked the guy. Giovanni was the type of man who didn’t give a fuck about the world. He was carefree, obnoxious, and arrogant to a fault, but he had a compassionate heart, one where Lorenzo found himself lacking.

  He heard Giovanni had four close underlings, ones who he dined with and confided in. Almost as if they were his family.

  Family? What was family anyway? Apart from Gian, he didn’t have anyone else to call family. Everyone he’d loved had all left him. He felt so alone in this world.

  If he were to truly ask himself what he really wanted in life, it would be that he wanted a family of his own. A wife and a few children, with a dog maybe, all running around the backyard while he sipped his tea and watched them play. Just a simple and idyllic lifestyle.

  But he was afraid he no longer capable of such deeds. He had changed. The life of a mafia had robbed him of being human. He was cold, calculative, and ruthless, to the point where he didn’t even bat an eye anymore when he pulled the trigger and ended a person’s life. It scared him that he no longer felt emotion for anything, that he had become disconnected from this world.

  But he needn’t worry about it anymore. Things had been put in place and in a few years’ time, when Gian took over, he would be free to enjoy his life and live as a normal man, on his rose farm.

  Lorenzo thought of his home in Chicago, deep in the middle of nowhere, a mansion surrounded by nothing but woods and roses. He missed it, his other home. New York was the thoroughbred of life, the blood veins of businesses, but Chicago was where he felt the most at peace.

  He gazed at the panoramic view of New York City before him. Bright lights and neon billboards decorated the entire city, stretching from north to south, and east to west. It was already well past two a.m. and the night was more alive than ever. He really did loved New York, but he loved Chicago more.

  After inhaling much-needed air, he headed back inside and noticed his cell phone’s flashing green light.

  Elvira?

  It couldn’t be. She wasn’t one to disturb him past midnight.

  Lorenzo swiped his phone and saw a dozen messages and three missed calls from Tono, his right-hand man.

  Lorenzo was about to read those messages when Tono bolted through the door, his massive frame crowding the doorway.

  His gut instinct told him something was seriously wrong.

  Tono dropped the news. “Boss. Gian was in a serious car accident. I’m afraid he won’t make it.”

  Lorenzo’s world collapsed for a second time.

  Chapter 2

  The Boy with Heterochromia Eyes

  It was not that blue. I was sure of it. His left eye was a sort of color even I found hard to describe. Turquois? Aqua-blue? No, not that either.

  Today was the first day back at the university, and this painting was supposed to be my summer holiday project. If only I could just pick a random blue color to paint his left eye, then this painting would have been finished yesterday. But I was stubborn. It needed to be the right shade of blue.

  I put the paintbrush down and try to imagine what his eye color was again. And I saw him, just like in my dreams, hair the color of spun gold, and eyes…

  Heterochromia. He had heterochromia eyes. One side blue and one side green. He was unique. He was special. And he was the boy who kept appearing in my dreams.

  It was weird. I’d thought dreams were random images your brain fired out when you were asleep, but I couldn’t explain how a boy with this unique physical feature could appear in my dreams again and again, as if he was a memory I had somehow lost.

  If only Mama was here, she could tell me about my childhood.

  A sharp pain seared at my heart as the memory of that accident from fourteen years ago came crashing back into my head. A sudden recklessness, an unchecked emotion, and it had spiraled into an event that had cost my mother’s life.

  And it was me. I was her killer. I was the culprit behind it all. I was the one who had made her die. And the consequences had led me to bury the biggest secret surrounding that accident that if revealed, could alter the course of my life forever. But whenever I dreamed of that young boy with heterochromia eyes, I found I could forgive myself a little. Because I was young. Because I was foolish. And it was okay because no person was an angel.

  I knew I was far from perfect. I had many flaws. But I strived to be better. I strived to do better, for the sake of Jenny, my little sister, whom I could give my life for, and Papa, the man who had carried the burden of looking after his two young daughters when his beloved wife died.

  I sighed, shoving the morbid thought aside, and started mixing the paint again until I found the perfect shade of blue. Sky blue. That was it. I applied the finishing touches to his left eye, and it was now complete. I stood back, marveling at my painting for the first time.

  It was a portrait of a boy, probably around ten or eleven years old, standing against the backdrop of rose bushes. He was looking at someone in the far distance, beyond the border of the canvas. His golden locks, streaked to an almost whitish blond under the light of the afternoon sun, made him look majestic, like he was an angel descended from the sky. He had on the brightest smile, one that lit up the world. And those heterochromia eyes were filled with so much love and warmth.

  Envy ate at me as I thought of the person who received his love. I wished it was me. I felt such a strong connection to him that it hurt to know his smile was for someone else.

  I chuckled at my own stupidity. He was nothing but my imagination. Dreams do not equate to reality, just as he would never be anything more than the boy who appeared in my dreams.

  My mobile ringtone snapped me out of my reverie. I swiveled out of my chair and approached the small bookshelf at the corner of my bedroom where my phone lay charging. It had been three days since I last checked my phone. I was so immersed in my painting that I’d forgotten all about it. Until it ran out of battery. I had it on the charger the whole night and had seemingly forgotten about it again until now.

  I checked the caller ID. It was Jenny. I accepted the call.

  “Hey, Mel,” she greeted me, so loud and boisterous as usual.

  I smiled softly. My sister was always so bright and chirpy; sometimes I wondered where she got all that energy from.

  “Finished class already?” I asked, looking at the clock on the wall.

  It was already nine. I had been awake since five this morning, working on this painting. Jenny had to leave early for an important
accounting lecture. I still had a few hours left before heading to class myself. Maybe I could prepare lunch for Papa in advance. I put the phone on speaker and started packing up.

  “Yeah, but we still have another class after this. Professor Barker isn’t here yet.” Jenny’s voice oozed out of the speaker.

  “Mm-hmm.” I nodded, not that she could see it.

  “So, have you finished it yet?” she asked, changing the subject so fast my mind went blank for a second, until it registered what she was referring to. Oh, right. The painting.

  “Oh… Yes, I have. Just now.”

  “Wow! Can’t wait to see it. That boy looks cute.”

  “He sure is. It took a little longer to finish, though. I couldn’t decide the right colors for his eyes. But it’s all done now. He’s perfect.” I couldn’t help glancing back at my finished painting, and I felt a sense of pride welling in my chest. He turned out exactly like the image in my dreams.

  “Imagine what he looks like all grown up. He’ll be one hot-looking guy.”

  Jenny’s words caught me off guard.

  Gosh! I had never thought of him that way. In my dreams, he had always been his young self. But to imagine what he looked like as a man, all grown up with a deep masculine voice. Just the thought sent shivers down my spine.

  Was this the kind of man I would fall for? Those heterochromia eyes, blue and green, staring fixatedly at the person he loved, and those lips…

  Heat raised up on my face.

  Gosh! I was being ridiculous. I was already twenty-one years old, a fully grown adult. I shouldn’t be fantasizing about a man in broad daylight.

  And why was I feeling embarrassed? Girls my age had already experienced love, sex, and everything in between. Just because I hadn’t experienced all those things yet, it didn’t mean I had to act cheesy. I turned to a more serious matter.