by Cora Reilly
Umberto grinned, revealing a gold incisor, and paused in his movements. “You think he got it easy because he’s the Boss’s son? He killed his first man at eleven, that’s why it was decided to initiate him early.”
Gianna gasped. “He’s a monster.”
Umberto shrugged. “He’s what he needs to be. Ruling over New York, you can’t be a pussy.” He gave an apologetic smile. “A wuss.”
“What happened?” I wasn’t sure I really wanted to know. If Luca had killed his first man at eleven, then how many more had he killed in the nine years since?
Umberto shook his shaved head, and scratched the long scar that ran from his temple down to his chin. He was thin, and didn’t look like much, but Mother told me few were faster with a knife than him. I’d never seen him fight. “Can’t say. I’m not that familiar with New York.”
I watched our cook as she prepared dinner, trying to focus on something that wasn’t my churning stomach and my overwhelming fear. Umberto scanned my face. “He’s a good catch. He’ll be the most powerful man on the East Coast soon enough. He’ll protect you.”
“And who will protect me from him?” I hissed.
Umberto didn’t say anything because the answer was clear: nobody could protect me from Luca after our wedding. Not Umberto, and not my father if he felt so inclined. Women in our world belonged to their husband. They were his property to deal with however he pleased. I glanced at the now gleaming blade in Umberto’s hand and shivered.
CHAPTER TWO
The last couple of months had gone by too fast no matter how much I wanted them to slow, to give me more time to prepare. Only two days until my engagement party. Mother was busy ordering the servants around, making sure the house was spotless and nothing went wrong. It wasn’t even a big celebration. Only our family, Luca’s family and the families of the respective heads of New York and Chicago were invited. Umberto said it was for safety reasons. The truce was still too fresh to risk a gathering of hundreds of guests.
I wished they’d cancel it altogether. For all I cared, I didn’t have to meet Luca until the day of our wedding. Now, as I hid from the party preparations in my room, Fabiano jumped up and down on my bed, a pout on his face. He was only five and had entirely too much energy. “I want to play!”
“Mother doesn’t want you to race through the house. Everything needs to be perfect for the guests.”
“But they aren’t even here!” Thank God. Luca and the rest of the New York guests wouldn’t arrive till tomorrow. Only one more night until I’d be meeting my future husband, a man who killed with his bare hands. I closed my eyes.
“Are you crying again?” Fabiano hopped off the bed and walked up to me, slipping his hand into mine. His dark blond hair was a mess. I tried to smooth it down but Fabiano jerked his head away.
“What do you mean?” I’d tried to hide my tears from him. Mostly I cried at night when I was protected by darkness.
“Lily says you cry all the time because Luca has bought you.”
I froze. I’d have to tell Liliana to stop saying such things. It would only get me in trouble. “He didn’t buy me.” Liar. Liar.
“Same difference,” Gianna said from the doorway, startling me.
“Shhh. What if Father hears us?”
Gianna shrugged. “He knows that I hate how he sold you like a cow.”
“Gianna,” I warned, nodding toward Fabiano. He peered up at me.
“I don’t want you to leave,” he whispered.
“I’m not leaving for a long time, Fabi.”
He seemed satisfied with my answer, and the worry disappeared from his face and was replaced by his up-to-no good expression. “Catch me!” he screamed and stormed off, pushing Gianna aside as he darted past her.
Gianna tore after him. “I’ll kick your ass, you little monster!”
I rushed into the corridor. Liliana poked her head out of her door, and then she too ran after my brother and sister. Mother would have my head if they smashed another family heirloom. I flew down the stairs. Fabiano was still in the lead. He was fast, but Liliana had almost caught him, while Gianna and I were too slow in the high heels my mother forced us to wear for practice. Fabiano dashed into the corridor leading into the west wing of the house, and the rest of us followed. I wanted to shout at him to stop. Father’s office was in this part of the house. We’d be in so much trouble if he caught us playing around. Fabiano was supposed to act like a man. What five-year-old acted like a man?
We passed Father’s door and relief washed over me, but then three men rounded the corner at the end of the corridor. I parted my lips to shout a warning, but it was too late. Though Fabiano skidded to a halt, Liliana ran into the man in the middle with full force. Most people would have lost their balance. Most people weren’t six foot five and built like a bull.
I jerked to a halt as time seemed to grind to a stop around me. Gianna gasped beside me, but my gaze was frozen on my future husband. He was looking down at the blonde head of my little sister, steadying her with his strong hands. Hands he’d used to crush a man’s throat.
“Liliana,” I said, my voice shrill with fear. I never called my sister by her full name unless she was in trouble or something was seriously wrong. I wished I was better at hiding my terror. Now everyone was staring at me, including Luca. His cold gray eyes scanned me from head to toe, lingering on my hair.
God, he was tall. The men beside him were both over six feet, yet he dwarfed them. His hands were still on Lily’s shoulders. “Liliana, come here,” I said firmly, holding out a hand. I wanted her far away from Luca. She stumbled backward, then flew into my arms, burying her face against my shoulder. Luca raised one black eyebrow.
“That’s Luca Vitiello!” Gianna said helpfully, not even bothering to hide her disgust. Fabiano made a sound like an enraged wildcat, stormed toward Luca, and started pummeling his legs and stomach with his small fists. “Leave Aria alone! You don’t get her!”
My heart stopped right then. The man to Luca’s side took a step forward. The outline of a gun was visible under his vest. He had to be Luca’s bodyguard, though I really couldn’t see why he needed one.
“No, Cesare,” Luca said simply, and the man stilled. Luca caught my brother’s hands in one of his, stopping the assault. I doubted he’d even felt the blows. I pushed Lily toward Gianna, who wrapped a protective arm around her, then I approached Luca. I was scared out of my mind, but I needed to get Fabiano away from him. Maybe New York and Chicago were trying to lay their feud to rest, but alliances could break in a blink. It wouldn’t be the first time. Luca and his men were still the enemy.
“What a warm welcome we get. That’s the infamous hospitality of the Outfit,” said the other man with Luca; he had the same black hair but his eyes were darker. He was a couple of inches shorter than Luca and not as broad, but they were unmistakably brothers.
“Matteo,” Luca said in a low voice that made me shiver. Fabiano was still snarling and struggling like a wild animal, but Luca held him at arm’s length.
“Fabiano,” I said firmly, gripping his upper arm. “It’s enough. That’s not how we treat guests.”
Fabiano froze, then gazed up at me over his shoulder. “He’s not a guest. He wants to steal you away, Aria.”
Matteo chuckled. “This is too good. I’m glad Father convinced me to come.”
“Ordered you,” Luca corrected, but he didn’t take his eyes off of me. I couldn’t return his gaze. My cheeks blazed with heat at his scrutiny. My father and his bodyguards made sure that Gianna, Lily and I weren’t around men very often, and the ones he let near us were either relatives or ancient. Luca was neither family, nor old. He was only five years older than me, but he looked like a man and made me feel like a small girl in comparison.
Luca let go of Fabiano and I pulled him toward me, his back against my legs. I folded my hands over his small heaving chest. He didn’t stop glaring at Luca. I wished I had his courage, but he was a boy, an heir to my father’
s title. He wouldn’t be forced to obey anyone, except for the Boss. He could afford courage.
“I’m sorry,” I said, even if the words tasted foul. “My brother didn’t mean to be disrespectful.”
“I did!” Fabiano shouted. I covered his mouth with my palm and he squirmed in my hold, but I didn’t let him go.
“Don’t apologize,” Gianna said sharply, ignoring the warning look I shot her. “It’s not our fault that he and his bodyguards take up so much room in the corridor. At least Fabiano speaks the truth. Everyone else thinks they need to blow sugar up his ass because he’s going to be Capo—”
“Gianna!” My voice was like a whip. She snapped her lips shut, staring at me with wide eyes. “Take Lily and Fabiano to their rooms. Now.”
“But—” She glanced behind me. I was glad I couldn’t see Luca’s expression.
“Now!”
She grabbed Fabiano’s hand and dragged him and Lily away. I didn’t think my first encounter with my future husband could possibly have gone any worse. Bracing myself, I faced him and his men. I expected to be greeted by fury, but I found a smirk on Luca’s face instead. My cheeks were burning with embarrassment, and now that I was alone with the three men, nerves twisted my stomach. Mother would freak out if she found out I wasn’t dressed up for my first meeting with Luca. I was wearing one of my favorite maxi dresses with sleeves that reached my elbows, and I was silently glad for the protection all the fabric offered me. I folded my arms in front of my body, unsure of what to do. “I apologize for my sister and brother. They are—” I struggled for a word other than rude.
“Protective of you,” Luca said simply. His voice was even, deep, emotionless. “This is my brother Matteo.”
Matteo’s lips were pulled into a wide grin. I was glad he didn’t try to take my hand. I didn’t think I could have kept my composure if either of them had moved any closer. “And this is my right hand, Cesare.” Cesare gave me the briefest nod before he returned to his task of scanning the corridor. What was he waiting for? We didn’t have assassins stashed in secret trap doors.
I focused on Luca’s chin and hoped it appeared as if I was actually looking at his eyes. I took a step back. “I should go to my siblings.”
Luca had a knowing expression on his face, but I didn’t care if he saw how uncomfortable, how scared he made me. Not waiting for him to excuse me—he wasn’t my husband nor my fiancé yet—I turned and quickly walked off, proud that I hadn’t given in to the urge to run.
* * *
Mother tugged at the dress Father had chosen for the occasion. For the meat show, as Gianna called it. No matter how much Mother tugged, though, the dress didn’t get any longer. I stared at myself in the mirror uncertainly. I’d never worn anything this revealing. The black dress clung to my butt and waist and ended at my upper thighs; the top was a glittery golden bustier with black tulle straps. “I can’t wear this, Mother.”
Mother met my gaze in the mirror. Her blonde hair was pinned up; it was a few shades darker than mine. She was wearing a floor-length elegant dress. I wished I was allowed something that modest. “You look like a woman,” she whispered.
I cringed. “I look like a hooker.”
“Hookers can’t afford a dress like that.”
Father’s mistress had clothes that cost more than some people spent on a car. Mother put her hands on my waist. “You have a wasp waist, and the dress makes your legs look very long. I’m sure Luca will appreciate it.”
I stared down at my cleavage. I had small breasts; even the push-up effect of the bustier couldn’t change that. I was a fifteen-year-old dressed up to look like a woman.
“Here.” Mother handed me five-inch black heels. Maybe I’d reach Luca’s chin when I wore them. I slipped into them. Mother forced her fake smile onto her face and smoothed down my long hair. “Hold your head high. Fiore Cavallaro called you the most beautiful woman of Chicago. Show Luca and his entourage that you are more beautiful than any women in New York too. After all, Luca knows almost all of them.” The way she said it, I was sure she’d read the articles about Luca’s conquests as well, or maybe Father had told her something.
“Mother,” I said hesitantly, but she stepped back.
“Now go. I’ll come after you, but this is your day. You should enter the room alone. The men will be waiting. Your father will present you to Luca, and then we’ll all come together in the dining room for dinner.” She’d told me this dozens of times already.
For a moment, I wanted to take her hand and beg her to accompany me; instead I turned and walked out of my room. I was glad that my mother had forced me to wear heels in the last few weeks. When I arrived in front of the door to the fireplace lounge on the first floor of the west wing, my heart was beating in my throat. I wished Gianna was at my side, but Mother was probably warning her to behave right now. I had to go through this alone. Nobody was supposed to steal the show from the bride-to-be.
I stared at the dark wood of the door and considered running away. Male laughter rang out behind it—my father and the Boss. A room filled with the most powerful and dangerous men in the country, and I was supposed to go in. A lamb alone with wolves. I shook my head. I needed to stop thinking like that. I’d made them wait too long already.
I gripped the handle and pressed down. I slipped in, not yet looking at anyone as I closed the door. Gathering my courage, I faced the room. Conversation died. Was I supposed to say something? I shivered and hoped they couldn’t see it. My father looked like the cat that got the cream. My eyes sought Luca and his piercing stare rendered me motionless. I held my breath. He put down a glass with a dark liquid with an audible clank.
If nobody said something soon, I’d flee the room. I quickly scanned the faces of the gathered men. From New York there were Matteo, Luca and Salvatore Vitiello, and two bodyguards: Cesare and a young man I didn’t know. From the Chicago Outfit there were my father, Fiore Cavallaro, and his son, the future head Dante Cavallaro, as well as Umberto and my cousin Raffaele, whom I hated with the fiery passion of a thousand suns. And off to the side stood poor Fabiano, who had to wear a black suit like everyone else. I could see that he wanted to run toward me to seek solace, but he knew what Father would say to that.
Father finally moved toward me, put a hand on my back and led me toward the gathered men like a lamb toward slaughter. The only man who looked positively bored out of his mind was Dante Cavallaro; he had eyes only for his Scotch. Our family had attended the funeral of his wife two months ago. A widower in his thirties. I would have felt pity for him if he didn’t scare me senseless, almost as much as Luca scared me.
Of course Father steered me straight toward my future husband with a challenging expression, as if he expected Luca to fall on his knees from awe. Going from his expression, Luca might as well have been staring at a rock. His gray eyes were hard and cold as they focused on my father.
“This is my daughter, Aria.”
Apparently, Luca hadn’t mentioned our embarrassing encounter. Fiore Cavallaro spoke up. “I didn’t promise too much, did I?”
I wished the ground would open and swallow me whole. I had never been submitted to so much…attention. The way Raffaele looked at me made my skin crawl. He’d been initiated only recently and had turned eighteen two weeks ago. Since then he’d been even more obnoxious than before.
“You didn’t,” Luca said simply.
Father looked obviously put off. Without anyone noticing, Fabiano had snuck up behind me and slipped his hand into mine. Well, Luca had noticed and was staring at my brother, which brought his gaze entirely too close to my naked thighs. I shifted nervously and Luca looked away.
“Maybe the future bride and husband want to be alone for a few minutes?” Salvatore Vitiello suggested. My eyes jerked in his direction and I didn’t manage to hide my shock fast enough. I was sure Luca had noticed, but he didn’t seem to care.
My father smiled and turned to leave. I couldn’t believe it.
“Should I
stay?” Umberto asked. I gave him a quick smile, which disappeared when my father shook his head. “Give them a few minutes alone,” he said. Salvatore Vitiello actually winked at Luca. They all filed out until only Luca, Fabiano and I were left.
“Fabiano,” came my father’s sharp voice. “Get out of there now.”
Fabiano reluctantly let go of my hand and left, but not before sending Luca the deadliest look a five-year-old could manage. Luca’s lips quirked. Then the door closed and we were alone. What had Luca’s father’s wink meant?
I peeked up at Luca. I had been right: with my high heels, the top of my head grazed his chin. He looked out the window, not sparing me a single glance. Dressing me up like a hooker didn’t make Luca any more interested in me. Why would he be? I’d seen the women he dated in New York. They would have filled out the bustier better.
“Did you choose the dress?”
I jumped, startled that he’d spoken. His voice was deep and calm. Was he ever anything but? “No,” I admitted. “My father did.”
Luca’s jaw twitched. I couldn’t read him and it was making me increasingly nervous. He reached into the inside of his jacket, and for a ridiculous second I actually thought he was pulling a gun on me. Instead he held a black box in his hand. He turned toward me and I stared intently at his black shirt. Black shirt, black tie, black jacket. Black like his soul.
This was a moment millions of women dreamed of, but I felt cold when Luca opened the box. Inside sat a white gold ring with a big diamond in the center, sandwiched between two marginally smaller diamonds. I didn’t move.
Luca held out his hand when the awkwardness between us reached its peak. I flushed and extended my hand. I flinched when his skin brushed mine. He slipped the engagement ring on my finger, then released me.
“Thank you.” I felt obligated to say the words and even look up into his face, which was impassive, though the same couldn’t be said for his eyes. They looked angry. Had I done something wrong? He held out his arm and I linked mine through it, letting him lead me out of the lounge and toward the dining room. We didn’t speak. Maybe Luca was disappointed enough with me that he’d cancel the arrangement? But he wouldn’t have put the ring on my finger if that were the case.