Home. Finding a new normal is going to be easier said than done, but I’m trying to be optimistic. I’ve been here at the new place for four hours and have unpacked and set up a good portion of the brownstone already, but it’s not like I had a ton of boxes to begin with. For the most part, the major furnishings and accessories were bought new. Even still, the kitchen is completely unpacked and organized, as well as the library, my bedroom, and both bathrooms. There’s not too much left, but I may have to pace myself because when it’s all set up and finished, I’m not really sure what else I’ll do to fill my time.

I think it just finally hit me that I have absolutely zero friends here. Not only that, but I really am unprepared for life in this new city. I have no idea where the good coffee shops are. Also, after spending the past three months doing yoga almost daily and hating every single second of it, I’m suddenly desperate for a good sweat session. I have absolutely nothing edible in the house except for dog food and treats, so groceries are a dire necessity at this point, but my biggest WTF now moment is my bar dilemma. Is it socially acceptable to grab a couple of drinks solo in the local pub if you don’t have any friends or am I just going to look like a desperate woman on the prowl? Shit, this could be more serious than my lack of nutritional sustenance. Well, the good news is a glass of wine while enjoying a hot bath is still classy and encouraged for relaxation, so I guess that will suffice for now. I’m sure it’ll all come together in time. Hell, all I have right now is Gatsby and time anyway.

I’m not really sure what to do yet. I don’t really need a job to support myself, but I’d really like to have something meaningful to do with my time. I’ve considered career options in the past since I admit it really sucks being dependent on my inheritance to survive. Not that there isn’t more than enough to support me for a lifetime, but it just feels morally wrong to me. Every time I sit down to pay bills, my conscience gets the best of me.

I’d like to think the money left to me was earned fairly, but since I’m sometimes too smart for my own good, I suspect that’s unlikely. I keep hoping that my investment management company will mismanage it somehow so it all goes away, but unless the team has a death wish, it probably won’t never happen. Every single month, the dirty money account seems to grow leaps and bounds. There must be a way to repurpose those funds for good.

If life must include the good and the bad, I’m going to find a way to make the bad pay something for the good. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, but I’ve never been more motivated than now. Since I’m already working on cleaning the slate, this is moving to the top of my list. I need to start researching worthy charities and figure out how to get involved. Well, right after I get food in the house and find the nearest coffee shop, that is.

The doorbell rings unexpectedly. Is this normal for people to randomly ring a stranger’s door for things? I’m not unopposed or annoyed by it. Honestly, I welcome the company. This would just never happen in New York. I just met three little boys with their mothers a couple of hours ago. They were selling popcorn as a fundraiser for their troop’s upcoming service project and camp. I probably went overboard with my order, but since I’m not a fan of popcorn, they had an option to send the donations to soldiers serving abroad. It was a great cause, and the boys were so excited. It actually made my day a little better too.

I walk to the door with an excited Gatsby at my side, and I bend down to scoop him up, laughing as I try to avoid his puppy smooches. Realizing after the fact it was a gigantic mistake not use that convenient little peephole when I see the person on my doorstep grinning smugly back at me. What. The. Fuck. Now.

“Hello, Elianna. I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by and welcome you.” With a large crystal vase full of artfully arranged flowers and stems in hand, it appears he’s serious. Um . . . no, this cannot be happening. I was aware he lived here in Boston, but it’s a big enough city. I figured if I didn’t seek him out, he probably wouldn’t come looking for me either. I mean, he hasn’t ever before, so what would remotely give me a reason to think he would now?

Lucas Christopher Black . . . or is it Ruffinelli now? I don’t even know or care which name he refers to himself as, and it doesn’t matter. The point of leaving New York was to escape ‘the family’ life and reminders of what’s missing, so I won’t be referring to him as anything, since he definitely is a trigger representing both.

“What are you doing here, Lucas? How did you even know I was here?” I ask, finally snapping out of my stupor. He moves, holding the vase in one hand, and crouches down to Gatsby’s level in my arms. He’s currently squirming wildly, overeager to greet our company. I’m not sure if I’m worried or hopeful his excitement might cause an accident, so I’ll have good reason to excuse myself and postpone this reunion until . . . never.

“Elianna, it’s my job to know. Aren’t you going to invite me in?” He asks, looking up at me, but when I really look into his eyes, I notice for the first time how eerily similar they are to his brother’s, just darker in color making them gray. For a moment, I see Matteo in front of me, and my heart leaps, but I calm my nerves, refusing to allow myself to find joy in this. Even with the irresistibly devastating grin, I’m not sure whether to categorize Lucas in the good or bad side of life column. Ugh . . . it’s so wrong that my lips tremble with the urge to smile as I watch him playfully pet Gatsby. Attractive males who succumb to puppy love tendencies when face to face with a real live puppy may very well be a newly discovered weakness for me. Noted to avoid in the future.

“Um . . . I guess come in,” I tell him, trying to be courteous but not caring that it probably comes across as patronizing too.

“Don’t act so happy to see me, Sunshine.” He chuckles, standing. He follows me through the door as I turn and walk inside with Gatsby, waiting to set him down until Lucas pushes the door closed.

Sunshine? I can’t help but laugh at that. What the hell kind of name is that for me? Clearly, he doesn’t know me at all if that’s what he comes up with because I’m anything but. I get he’s known me since we were kids, and maybe the whole nickname thing makes him feel nostalgic, but still nope. We’re not going to be on that kind of friendly level right out of the gates. Wait . . . I mean, ever, not out of the gates.

“You can just call me Elianna, Lucas. Sunshine isn’t appropriate. Plus, even if the first part weren’t enough, it definitely doesn’t really fit me,” I say with staid calmness.

He smiles tentatively as if testing the expression then places the arrangement on the entry table. Looking at me directly, he hesitates as if trying to read my demeanor before taking in the rest of the room.

“Beautiful place. Looks like it was recently renovated. Was that your doing or did you purchase it after reconstruction?” he asks casually.

I’m not sure how much of my personal details I’m ready for Lucas to know, but for the sake of avoiding any added uncomfortable silence, I give him some so we can move on.

“I just purchased the place a couple of weeks ago. It was already renovated, but I fell in love with the charm they were able to keep while revitalizing the unit. I have a feeling Gatsby and I will enjoy our new home.” He smiles and looks at my ten-week-old solid gray Cane Corso puppy.

“That’s definitely a suitable name for you, mister,” he says to Gatsby, and I’m surprised by the tenderness in voice.

“Would it be okay if we sit down for a minute?” He asks, eyeing my new sofa. I’ve yet to sit on it for more than two minutes since I arranged the throw pillows shortly after it arrived. I suppose I bought it to be used, but I just wasn’t expecting to have company so soon, or that my first official guest would be Lucas, of all people.

I nod and follow him farther into the room, choosing to sit on the armchair across from the sofa with the oversized round marble coffee table between us. Gatsby, I quickly learn, is a deserter and follows Lucas. He jumps onto the sofa as Lucas sits and climbs into his lap to lie down. Looks like the excitement of company has worn him out. I watch as Lucas pets Gatsby soothingly, confused and not knowing whether to be jealous or just admire the precious sight.

Keeping the small talk session alive, Lucas distracts me from my thoughts. “You chose the perfect time of year to move to Boston.”

I hesitate, momentarily torn by my conflicting emotions. “Yes, I was excited to get moved once I finally decided to take the leap. Plus, I wanted to be in before the magnolias bloom and baseball season started, so I could maybe go to some of the games,” I tell him.

My response seems to amuse him as he softly laughs. “You know, I don’t know how I forgot about that. Now that you say that, I remember you as a little girl with your long French braids talking smack to guys all season long. Even cute, you were vicious when it came to your loyalty to the home team rival. Damn, you had guts. Men four times your age and size wouldn’t have had the balls to taunt those men the way you did and live to discuss it. I’ve got to admit; I admired that about you. I guess maybe when I switched teams, I left a lot of that stuff in the past.”

“Yeah. That I understand better than anyone, I suspect. I’m hoping my fresh start is less cursed this time,” I admit, surprising myself by my openness, but since it was just a response to his personal statement, it’s probably okay. Unless he tries to read into it and dig deeper, but hopefully, we can let it go.

“I would’ve offered my resources had I known you’d be moving in today. Is there anything you still need help with?” A faintly eager look flashes in his eyes with the question, causing more confusion for me.

I shrug and look away, no longer able to keep my guard secure against the way he’s making me feel. “I think I’m okay. Obviously, Gatsby and I are just getting settled and have a lot of exploring to do to acclimate to the new town, but I’m sure we’ll adjust in no time. I’m pretty sure you’d be overqualified to help with my essential needs at the moment anyway, but thanks for the offer,” I admit calmly, trying to mask the inner turmoil.

When I look up, I find his eyes fixed on me, and there’s an obvious change in his mood.

“I think I can be the judge of any possible over-qualifications. You should know I wouldn’t make any offer I wasn’t interested in fulfilling. If your needs weren’t imperative to me, I would’ve had the florist deliver the flowers with a gift certificate to a local restaurant. Obviously, I showed up instead, so that has to tell you something. Now, please tell me about these essential needs, Sunshine.”

I wavered for a second, trying to comprehend his statement before I realized he’d asked a question and was waiting for the answer. For a brief moment, I’m completely thrown off and falling into the trap of his tenderness, but then I remember the type of man I’m dealing with. Lucas is a made-man. He may have a smooth side, but I’ve yet to meet any man bound to this life who didn’t have razor-sharp edges hidden somewhere. His are just carefully concealed. I don’t intend to find out, though I’m sure they’re there.

I’m starting to rethink my attempts at being polite. It might be time for me to set him straight so I can start living my new life. I can’t let myself forget that Lucas is involved in the organization that has stolen almost every person I love. He may have been too young to have any responsibility or involvement in what happened to my parents, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have blood on his hands from others. As Matteo’s brother, there’s no way he could really believe the claims and explanation we were given, but I wonder why he isn’t as angry about it as I am. Why is he sitting here in front of me instead of hunting down those responsible?

Yes. I have to pull myself together and remind myself that Lucas may look like my best friend, but he’s nothing like Matteo. Matteo wasn’t a made-man. He was good and pure, heart and soul. I have no doubt Matteo was capable of killing someone with his bare hands, but he’d never have killed for sport.

If the roles were reversed, would Matteo kill for me? Without question, absolutely. I understand because the incessant ache from losing him doesn’t fade, but at the moments when the blinding anger takes hold, it’s all I can see and feel. Nothing keeps me awake at night like the nagging urge to find those responsible . . . and then figure out a way to make them pay.

If Lucas can sit in front of me right now all cool, calm, and collected and not feel what I’m unable to escape, there’s no possible way we could ever be on the same team. But what if he knows something? What I need more than anything is to get close enough to those with access to dark secrets. Someone who knows the truth, and right now, there’s not much I want more.

I’ve been manipulated my entire life. I think it’s time to show them all what I’ve learned and finally fight for my fighter. I owe him this, at the very least.

It looks like Lucas will unexpectedly be giving me a ride down to the underworld. I guess seeing Lucas was just the thing I needed to clear my head and figure out where my priorities rested. I’ll have a lifetime to clean my slate once I get answers, but I’ll never be able to move on with any quality of life until I know the truth.