Page 10 of Lost Prince

“I was heading north to Minnesota, you know, land of ten thousand lakes. I made it from Nashville to Chicago when there's this awful grinding noise in my little beater. Next thing I know, smoke's pouring out from under the hood. I pull over, pop the hood, and it's like opening the gates of hell."

"What did you do?" he asks, amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Oh, I did what any self-respecting car owner would do. I poured my Big Gulp all over the engine."

Lazaro bursts out laughing, a full-bodied sound that fills the kitchen. It’s so glorious in its joy. I join in, caught up in the moment. Our laughter mingles in the air and for a brief, magical moment, it feels like we're the only two people in the world.

As our laughter dies down, Lazaro looks at me with a newfound warmth in his eyes. "You know, if you want, I could show you how to maintain your car. Save you from any more Big Gulp incidents."

"Really? You'd do that?"

He nods, a small smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, why not? It's a useful skill to have."

Warmth spreads through my chest at the thought of spending more time with him. It’s dumb feeling, even dangerous. Lazaro may come off as salt-of-the earth like me, but he’s actually a part of Mafia royalty. The Lost Prince, as the staff called him.

Even so, I can’t do the wise thing and keep my distance. "I'd love that.”

“What’s going on?” Lana’s voice cools the warmth of the moment. Her eyes widen, moving between Lazaro and me. A flicker of hurt or maybe suspicion shows in her expression, which makes no sense. Shouldn’t she be happy to hear Lazaro laughing?

I watch as Lazaro's shoulders tense, his jaw clenching. The light and openness of a moment ago vanishes, replaced by irritation. The air in the kitchen grows thick with tension, and I suddenly feel like an intruder in a private family moment.

Lana's gaze settles on me, her expression unreadable. I fumble with my apron, desperate for something to do with my hands. "I should go check on the…" I trail off, not sure what I should leave to do.

"No, stay," Lazaro says, his voice gruff. He turns to Lana, crossing his arms. "What is it?"

Lana straightens. Her chin lifts. "Elio and Matteo need help with a situation. I thought you might want to assist."

Lazaro's eyes narrow. "What kind of situation? Who do I need to kill?"

I flinch. Is he serious? He’s going to kill someone? A part of me understands that killing is likely a part of the family business, but I can’t see it in the people I work for. They’re a loving, albeit sometimes snipping, family. I can’t reconcile the Mafia element with the family I’m coming to know.

Lana scowls at him. “No one. It’s just a business meeting. And maybe working will help jog your memory.”

"For fuck's sake, Lana." Lazaro slams his hand on the table, and I jump at the sudden outburst. "I don't need more time to 'jog my memory'. What I need is to be useful."

Lana doesn’t seem moved by his reaction. “Then go with them and be useful.”

“Good. I'm tired of sitting around, waiting for memories that might never come back."

The siblings stare at each other, the air crackling. If spontaneous combustion is a real thing, it might happen to them.

Lazaro storms to the door, but then stops and looks back at me. “Thank you for the cookies.”

“Of course, Mr. D’Amato.” I smile and nod like a dutiful servant.

He exits, and I feel a sudden emptiness. And sadness. It’s clear a tug-of-war is going on inside him. The contrast between Lazaro's openness with me and his bristling reaction to Lana is stark. I wonder if I should mention this to her. I immediately dismiss the idea. Getting involved in family drama is probably the worst idea I've ever had. Right along with having warm thoughts about spending time with Lazaro, finding new ways to make him laugh or smile. He's not just my employer's brother. He's a man with a complicated past and an uncertain future. And yet…

I can't deny the pull I feel toward him. It's not just his rugged good looks or the air of danger that surrounds him. There's something vulnerable about Lazaro, something that calls to the part of me that's always felt like an outsider. I understand how he’s feeling, wanting to belong but not able to fit in.

But it’s not my job to help him with that. Lana might be going at it the wrong way, but I can see how desperately she wantsto help her brother, to bring back the man she remembers. And who am I to get in the way of that?

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. This job is supposed to be simple. Cook for the family, a short-term gig until I move on to the next place. I can’t get caught up in family drama.

Perhaps it’s time to pack up and head out to follow the wind to my next adventure. But a larger part of me wants to stay. Not because my car won’t get me far. Not because I need the money. No. I want to stay for Lazaro. To help him find his footing. To help him find his place. And heaven help me for imagining this, but maybe I’ll find my place too.

4

LAZARO