Page 1 of Ties That Bind Us

Chapter 1

Ava

Clutching my shoes in my hand, I glanced back over my shoulder one last time at the man still in bed behind me. He was tangled up in the sheets, sound asleep and completely unaware that I was about to make a getaway. The colorful artwork on his back was on full display, rising and falling with each gentle breath. Just a few short hours ago, I had been underneath him as he rocked his hips against mine, driving me absolutely wild with the way he touched my body like he had known me my entire life. He explored every muscle, every freckle, every sensitive spot I had that drove me further and further into the abyss. He trailed his fingers along me like he was playing an intricate symphony, and I was his piano. And wow, the way his lips felt against mine. No one had ever kissed me like that before, and my body was aching for more even though we’d been at it until the sun came up, only collapsing into bed and falling asleep when we were both on the very edge of exhaustion.

I was almost certain that if I put my shoes down, took off this dress, and climbed back into bed with him I’d immediately be back in that position. That the sleeping stranger would be happy to indulge me, and we’d spend the day finding new places in this hotel room to christen. That we’d stay far away from reality for as long as possible, lost in this magical world we’d created fifty floors above New York City. A world where names didn’t matter and the responsibilities we were both bound by didn’t exist. It was perfect, and the second I walked out this door, it would all come to a screeching halt.

There really was no choice, though; it was what we’d promised each other, after all. No strings, no obligations, and definitely no names. Somewhere along the way it had shifted, though. Between our conversations and the sex, a connection had formed, and that was exactly why I couldn’t stay. I was in no position for anything more than a one-night stand with this guy, despite the pull that we both felt. As much fun as it was, that was all it was—fun—and it was time to head back to reality now.

Desperate not to wake him, I opened the door as quietly as I could before slipping out. It would be much harder to deny him if he was awake and pleading with me to stay. The last thing he asked of me as we drifted to sleep was to promise I would still be there in the morning, and here I was doing the walk of shame down a hotel hallway still wearing the dress I’d had on the night before.

I was glad no one was in the elevator on my way down, as it was obvious from the state of my appearance that I’d been up all night. But that wasn’t the case in the crowded lobby. It was only six in the morning, yet the entrance was already bustling with people who were no doubt judging my smudged makeup and crumpled curls. I still had to get an Uber back to the bar so I could pick up my car and then get back to my house before anyone knew I hadn’t come home last night. I had snuck in and out of that house so many times that I could probably do it in my sleep, but I was still kicking myself for running the chance of my father catching me. Luckily, my ride came quickly and I was soon on my way.

It was my own fault I was in this situation, trying to sneak back home after leaving a naked man in a hotel room following arguably one of the best nights of my life. I could have done the responsible thing—finished up my date and gone home to bed—but responsibility wasn’t exactly my calling card, at least not recently. I was the youngest and wildest of the Moretti children. The one you could always count on to do the dangerous or irresponsible thing. The one people expected to screw up. It was why, even at twenty-three, my father was keeping me on a short leash. If he caught me crawling back into the house after my one-night stand, there would be hell to pay.

It wasn’t like I was dealing with just any overprotective father here. My father, Alessandro Moretti, was the head of a faction of the Italian Mafia. He ran one of the largest criminal organizations in the New York area, and was just as intimidating as a father as he was as a Mob boss.

My father lived and breathed the Mafia, and sometimes we joked that he’d only had children in order to carry out his legacy. My sisters and I had always been kept at arm’s length. We knew that my father’s fortune wasn’t exactly built legally, but didn’t know the details—and quite frankly, I didn’t care to. I was left to imagine, and that was plenty. Sometimes ignorance really could be bliss. My brothers, on the other hand, were deeply involved. Vince was next in line to take over, and my brother Andrew was dead because of his involvement. It had driven him to suicide—something I should have stopped, or at least seen coming. We were twins after all. It was almost four years ago now, but it still gutted me. For the most part, my parents refused to talk about it, and I had been expected to accept it as part of the Mafia lifestyle. Having to bottle up my grief for Andrew had caused me to act out in other ways, and had driven a pretty deep wedge between me and my father.

Somehow, he had gotten it in his mind that marrying me off was the answer to all of his problems. If I could find a nice guy to settle down with it would bring an end to my wild days and put a stop to any ill effects I was having on his reputation. He’d been harping on it for months, and although I did my best to indulge him, I was about as far from settling down as I could be. The very thought of finding a husband and turning into a housewife made me so nauseated I couldn’t see straight. Especially if there was even the slightest chance I could end up with someone like him.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t given relationships a shot. I always started with the best of intentions, but after a long line of good-for-nothing losers and a particularly bad recent breakup, I was positive that relationships just weren’t for me, even with the pressure from my family. Commitment or settling down was the last thing on my mind, and I was planning on holding out as long as possible.

The dating part, now, that was something I was actually good at. I loved the freshness of dating—when you’re still trying to impress each other, when it’s all fun, no commitment or games. Anything past three, four dates tops, had me running for the hills. Men lost their allure at this point, especially if they started throwing around words like relationship or girlfriend. I certainly didn’t need that kind of negativity in my life.

I had this dating business down to a science. I offered as little information about myself as I could and tried not to remember any more personal details than absolutely necessary. It made a guy harder to walk away from when I knew he saved kittens in his spare time, or that he spent his summers volunteering for Doctors Without Borders. Details meant getting personal, and that meant being vulnerable. As soon as I started to feel smothered or like someone was getting too close, I turned on the charm and had them thinking that breaking it off was their idea. It hadn’t worked on everyone, and I had ended up with a few clingers, but for the most part I was able to step away without any strings attached. What can I say, I guess we all have our talents.

After months of prodding, last night I had agreed to a date with Rob as a favor to my sister. He was a friend of her husband’s and she swore up and down that we were on the same page about taking things slow. Despite my qualms about relationships, I knew everyone in my family was eager for me to settle down. I figured this would buy me a little bit of time and get me in my father’s good graces. Besides, Angie promised that Rob was hot, and I could get through one date with just about anyone.

That was how I ended up in this situation to begin with.

As I put on one last coat of lipstick, I glanced at the clock. Damn it, I was running late. I had forty-five minutes to get to the restaurant where I was meeting Rob, and considering it was in the heart of New York City, that was definitely not going to happen. I smoothed the wrinkles out of my dress and quickly ran my fingers through my hair to shake out my curls. Grabbing my purse, I headed out of my room and down the stairs.

I could hear the kitchen was full of voices as I passed through the foyer of my parents’ house, before slipping my shoes on. I peeked my head around the corner to say good-bye.

“Come on Ma, just let me try it.” Vince chuckled, dancing around the stove as our mother tried to shoo him away.

“Vincent, we are eating in fifteen minutes. You can try it when everybody else does.” My mother groaned.

“Besides, you’ve had Mom’s lasagna a million times.” My sister, Bella, fanned her nails in front of her face without even glancing up. Bella was the middle child in our family. All in all, there were five of us Moretti children: Vince, then Angie, then Isabella, and finally, me and Andrew. It was certainly a full house.

“But it just gets better every time!” Vince smiled smugly, swinging his arm over my shoulder as I walked in.

“Kiss ass.”

“Ay, Ava! Watch your mouth!” my mother said, playfully whacking me with the towel she had draped over her shoulder.

“You tell her, Ma!” Vince laughed, basking in my scolding.

“Here.” My mom shoved a stack of plates toward Vince. “Make yourself useful.”

“Auntie Ava, what’s a kiss ass?” Vince’s daughter asked as she came around the corner.

“Ask your daddy, Gigi.” I bent down and kissed her forehead. “I’m going to be late.”

“Thanks a lot, Sophia’s gonna blame this one on me.” Vince groaned, then disappeared into the dining room to set the table.

“You’re not staying for dinner, angel?” My mom frowned in disappointment. For what my father lacked in affection and emotion, my mom certainly made up for.

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