by Cora Reilly
I pondered that, even if his hand was very distracting. I was alternating between wanting to shove it off my knee and ask him to keep caressing me. “The morning after our wedding night, you asked me if I knew how to fight, so maybe you can teach me how to use a knife or a gun, and maybe some self-defense.”
Surprise crossed Luca’s face. “Thinking about using them against me?”
I huffed. “As if I could ever beat you in a fair fight.”
“I don’t fight fair.”
Of course he didn’t. “So will you teach me?”
“I want to teach you a lot of things.” His fingers tightened on my knee.
“Luca,” I said quietly. “I’m serious. I know I have Romero and you, but I want to be able to defend myself if something happens. You said it yourself, the Bratva won’t care that I’m a woman.”
That got him. He nodded. “Okay. We have a gym where we work out and do fight training. We could go there.”
I smiled, excited about getting out of the penthouse and doing something useful. “I’ll grab my workout clothes.” I hopped off the stool and ran upstairs. I snatched up my mobile from my nightstand and sent Gianna a short text to let her know I was okay. Knowing her and dreading the flood of questions she’d be firing at me, I didn’t take my phone with me as I headed back downstairs.
* * *
Thirty minutes later we parked in front of a shabby building after having grabbed muffins for breakfast. I was bursting with excitement, and I was glad to have something to distract myself from what had happened yesterday. Luca and I got out of the car, and he carried our bags as we headed through a rusty steel door. Security cameras were everywhere, and a middle-aged man sat in a nook that held a table and chair as well as a TV. Two guns were in his holster. He straightened when he saw Luca, then he spotted me and his eyes grew wide.
“My wife,” Luca said with a hint of warning, and the man’s gaze jerked away from me. Luca put a hand on the small of my back and guided me through another door that led into a huge hall. There was a boxing ring, all kinds of exercise machines, dummies for fight and knife training, and a corner with mats where a few men were sparring. I was the only woman.
Luca grimaced. “Our changing rooms are men only. We don’t usually have female visitors.”
“I know you’ll make sure nobody sees me naked.”
“You bet I will.”
I laughed, and a few faces turned our way, then more until everyone was staring. They quickly returned to what they’d been doing when Luca led me toward a door on the side, but they kept throwing badly disguised glances my way. A few of the older men called out a greeting to Luca. He opened the door, then stopped. “Let me check if someone’s in there.” I nodded, then leaned against the wall as Luca disappeared inside the changing room. The moment he was gone, I could feel the full force of the men’s attention shifting my way. I tried not to let them see how nervous their scrutiny made me and almost breathed a sigh of relief when Luca came back out, followed by a few men who pretended they didn’t notice me. I wondered what Luca had told them.
“Come.” He held the door open for me, and we walked into a low-ceilinged room filled with humidity and the smell of too many hard-working male bodies. I scrunched my nose up. Luca laughed. “We’re not catering to sensitive female noses.”
I grabbed my bag from him and walked toward a locker. Luca followed and set his own bag down on the scratched wooden bench.
“Aren’t you going to give me some privacy?” I asked, hands on the hem of my shirt.
Luca raised one eyebrow at me before removing his holster and then pulling his own shirt over his head, revealing his muscled and tanned torso. He dropped his shirt on the bench, then reached for his belt, that challenging look still in his eyes.
Gritting my teeth, I turned my back to him and slid my tank top over my head. I reached behind me to open the clasp of my bra, but Luca’s hand was there and did it for me expertly. Bastard. Of course, he could open a bra with one finger. I grabbed my jogging bra and put it on, trying not to think about Luca, who was undoubtedly watching every move. I stripped off my shorts and could have kicked myself for choosing a thong this morning. I pulled it down as well, and heard Luca sucking in his breath when I bent forward slightly. My cheeks blasted with heat, realizing what kind of view I’d just given him. I snatched a pair of the plain black panties I always wore when I worked out on the treadmill, then I put my jogging shorts on over them and turned back around to Luca. He’d put on black sweatpants and an ultra-tight white shirt that showcased his spectacular body. There was a bulge in his pants. All because of my butt?
“That’s what you’re wearing for self-defense lessons?”
I looked down at myself. “I don’t have anything else. This is what I wear when I go jogging.” The shorts were tight and ended high up on my thighs, but I didn’t like too much fabric when I ran.
“You realize I’ll have to kick every guy’s ass who looks at you the wrong way, right? And looking like that, my men will have a hard time not looking at you the wrong way.”
I shrugged. “It’s not my job to make them control themselves. Just because I’m wearing revealing clothes doesn’t mean I’m inviting them to look. If they can’t behave themselves, that’s their problem.”
Luca led me out of the changing room and toward the sparring mats. The men there immediately backed away, pointedly not looking at me. I followed Luca toward a display of knives. His eyes scanned them, then he chose one with a long smooth blade and handed it to me. He didn’t take one for himself.
He positioned himself across from me, looking utterly relaxed. He must have known everyone was watching us, but he acted as if he couldn’t care less. This wasn’t private. He had to put up a show for his men. “Attack me, but try not to cut yourself.”
“Won’t you get a knife too?”
Luca shook his head. “I don’t need one. I’ll have yours in a minute.”
I narrowed my eyes at his self-assured tone. He was probably right, but I didn’t like him saying it. “So what am I supposed to do?”
“Try to land a hit. If you manage to cut me, you win. I want to see how you move.”
I took a breath and tried to forget the men watching me. I tightened my grip on the knife, then I dashed forward. Luca moved fast. He dodged my jab, grabbed my wrist and whirled me around until my back collided with his chest.
“You don’t have my knife yet,” I gasped out. His fingers around my wrist tightened a fraction, uncomfortably but not painfully. His lips brushed my ear. “I would have to hurt you to get it. I could break your wrist, for example, or just bruise it.” He released me and I stumbled forward.
“Again,” Luca said. I tried a few times, but didn’t get anywhere close to cutting him. For my next try, I decided to stop playing fair. I advanced on him, then as he made a grab for me, I aimed a kick between his legs. The men cheered, but Luca’s hand caught my foot before it could make impact and before I knew what was happening I landed on my back with a heavy thud. My breath rushed out of me and the knife slipped out of my hand. I squeezed my eyes shut. Luca touched my stomach, and my muscles constricted under his warm palm. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly.
I opened my eyes. “Yeah. Just trying to catch my breath.” Then I scanned the crowd. “Don’t you have a soldier who’s only five foot something and terrified of his own shadow who would be willing to fight me?”
“My men aren’t terrified of anything,” Luca said loudly. He held out his hand and pulled me to my feet. He addressed his soldiers. “Anyone willing to fight my wife?”
Of course nobody stepped forward. They were probably worried Luca would skin them alive. Some of them shook their heads, chuckling.
The shadow of a grin crossed Luca’s face. “You’ll have to fight me.”
A few more attack attempts later, I was out of breath and annoyed by my inability to hurt Luca the tiniest bit, but then a chance offered itself. He held me against his body and his
upper arm was close to my face, so I turned and bit him. He was so startled he actually released me and I tried to jab him with the knife, but he gripped my wrist. “Did you bite me?” he asked as he stared at my teeth marks on his bicep.
“Not hard enough. There isn’t even blood,” I said.
Luca’s shoulders twitched once, then again. He was fighting laughter. Not the effect I’d intended when I bit him, but I had to admit I loved the sound of his deep chuckle. “I think you’ve done enough damage for one day,” he said.
* * *
We grabbed something to eat on our way home, then settled on the rattan sofa on the roof terrace with a glass of wine.
“I’m surprised,” I said eventually. Luca and I sat close together, almost touching, and his arm was thrown over the backrest behind me but so far he had held back. “I didn’t think you’d really try.”
“I told you I would. I keep my word.”
“I bet this is hard for you.” I gestured at the space between us.
“You have no idea. I want to kiss you really fucking bad.”
I hesitated. Kissing him had felt good. Luca set the glass down, then he moved a bit closer and touched my waist. “Tell me you don’t want me to kiss you.”
I parted my lips but nothing came out. Luca’s eyes darkened and he leaned toward me, capturing my mouth in a kiss, and I lost myself in the sensation of his tongue and lips. Luca didn’t push it, never moved his hand from my waist, but he’d begun rubbing my skin there lightly and his other hand massaged my scalp. How could I feel that all the way between my legs?
Eventually I lay back on the sofa, Luca propped up above me. I could feel myself getting wet but I didn’t have the time or necessary focus to feel embarrassed. Luca’s kisses kept me busy. The tingling in my center became difficult to ignore, and I tried to alleviate the tension by pressing my legs together.
Luca drew back with a knowing expression. Heat rose into my cheeks.
“I could make you feel good, Aria,” he murmured, his hand on my waist tightening. “You want to come, don’t you?”
Oh my God, yes. I’d overheard girls in school go into detail about how amazing it could be, but I’d never managed to make myself feel anything close to what they’d described. My body was screaming for it. “I’m fine. Thank you.”
Luca choked on a laugh. “You are so stubborn.” He didn’t say it in a mean way. His lips came down on mine again and I could tell he gave it his all, determined to break my resolve, and a few times I got close. I was throbbing between my legs but I wouldn’t give in, not so soon. I had more control than that.
That night I fell asleep with Luca’s arms around me and his erection an insistent presence against my upper thigh. Maybe we really could make this marriage work.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
When I woke the next morning, I was alone in bed. I sat up, disappointed that Luca hadn’t woken me. I slipped out of bed when he came into the bedroom from the hallway, already dressed in black, with a chest holster that held two knives and two guns, and who knew how many more holsters on the rest of his body with more weapons. “Are you leaving already?”
He grimaced. “The Bratva got one of ours. They left him in tiny pieces around one of our clubs.”
“Somebody I know?” I asked with dread. Luca shook his head. “Will the police get involved?”
“Not if I can help it.” Luca cupped my face. “I’ll try to be home early, okay?”
I nodded. He lowered his head, watching me the entire time to see if I would pull back. His lips brushed over mine. I opened my mouth for him and sank into the kiss, but it was over too quick. I watched his back as he left. Then I picked up the phone and called Gianna.
“I thought you’d never call,” was the first thing out of her mouth.
I smiled. “I haven’t even showered yet, and it’s only eight in Chicago. You can’t have been awake for long.”
“You didn’t call yesterday and all I got was a short text. I was sick with worry. I couldn’t sleep because of you. I hate that we are so far apart and I can’t see for myself if you’re okay. Are you okay?”
“Yes, I am.” I told her about my conversation with Luca and how we’d spent yesterday together.
“How noble of him to agree to not cheat on you again and actually try to make the marriage work. Give that man flowers.”
“He isn’t a good man, Gianna. There are no good men in our world. But I think he really wants to try. And I want it too.”
“Why don’t you ask him if I can come visit for a few days? I don’t have school for another two weeks and I’m bored out of my mind without you. We could spend a couple of days at the beach in the Hamptons and go shopping in Manhattan.”
“What about Father? Did you ask him?”
“He told me to ask you and Luca.”
“I will ask him. I don’t think he’ll mind. It’s not like he’s home very often at the moment. Most days I’m alone with Romero.”
“Why don’t you ask Luca if you can go to college? You’ve got perfect grades. You would have no trouble getting into Columbia.”
“What for? I won’t ever be allowed to work. It’s too dangerous.”
“You could help Luca with his clubs. You could be his secretary or whatever. You’ll go crazy if you stay in that penthouse all the time.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine,” I said, even though I really wasn’t sure. Gianna had a point. “I will talk to Luca about your visit. Now I really need to take a shower and grab something to eat.”
“Call me as soon as possible. I need to book a flight.”
I smiled. “I will. Stay out of trouble.”
“You too.”
I hung up. Then I got ready and dressed in a breezy summer dress. It was sunny outside and I wanted to walk through Central Park. When I stepped into the living room, Romero was sitting at the dining room table with a cup of coffee in front of him.
“Was Luca very angry with you?” I asked as I walked past him toward the huge open kitchen. Homemade carrot cake set on the counter and I could hear Marianna humming somewhere. She was probably cleaning. Romero got up, took his cup and leaned against the kitchen island. “He wasn’t happy. You could have been killed. I’m supposed to protect you.”
“What’s Luca doing today?”
Romero shook his head.
“What is he doing? I want to know details. Why is he taking so many guns with him?”
“He, Matteo and a few others are going to find the guys who killed our man, and then they’re going to get revenge.”
“That sounds dangerous.” A hint of worry filled me. Revenge was never the end of things. The Bratva would take revenge in turn for Luca’s revenge. It was a never-ending cycle
“Luca and Matteo have been doing this for a long time. They are the best, and so are the men with them.”
“And instead of being in on the fun, you have to babysit me.”
Romero gave a shrug, then he smiled. “It’s an honor.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’d like to go jogging in Central Park.”
“Will you try to run away again?”
“Why would I? There’s nowhere I can run. And I doubt you’ll let me escape again. You look fit enough.”
Romero straightened. “Okay.” I could tell that he was still suspicious of my motives.
I put on my shorts, a tank top and my running shoes, then went back out. Romero had changed into sweatpants and a T-shirt. He kept a stash of clothes in one of our guest bedrooms, but he lived in an apartment about ten minutes from here. “Where have you hidden your guns?”
“That’s my secret,” he said with a rare grin, then he caught himself and put on his professional face.
Romero was fit and could easily keep up with me as we jogged through the many pathways in Central Park for the next hour. It felt wonderful to actually run outside for once instead of always being limited to the treadmill. I felt free and almost as if I belonged among all the people doing ordinary t
hings, like walking their dogs or playing baseball. Maybe Luca would run with me one day, when the Russians weren’t giving him so much trouble anymore. But when would that ever be?
* * *
Later that day I sat on the roof terrace, watching the sunset, my legs pulled up against my body. Romero was checking his phone. “Luca will have more time for you soon.”
I looked at him. Had I appeared lonely to him? “Did he tell you when he’d be home today?”
“He hasn’t written yet,” he said slowly.
“That’s a bad sign, right?”
Romero didn’t say anything, only frowned down at his phone.
I went inside when it became too cold, put on my nightgown and curled up on the couch, turning on the TV. I couldn’t help but get more worried as the clock edged closer to midnight, but eventually I drifted off.
* * *
I woke when I was lifted off the couch. My eyes fluttered open and I peered up into Luca’s face. It was too dark to make out much. Romero must have extinguished the lights at some point. “Luca?” I murmured.
He didn’t say anything. I put a hand against his chest. His shirt was slick with something—water? Blood?
His breathing was even, steps measured. His heartbeat was calm under my palm. But I couldn’t read his mood. It was strange. He carried me up the stairs as if I weighed nothing. We reached our bedroom and he put me down on the bed. I could only see his tall shape looming above me. Why wasn’t he saying anything?
I stretched and fumbled for the main switch beside the bed. I brushed it with my fingertips and the lights came on, and I gasped. Luca’s shirt was covered in blood. Soaked in it. There was a small cut at Luca’s throat and if the rips in his shirt were any indication, he probably had more wounds. Then my eyes found his face and I became very still, like a fawn trying to blend in so as not to attract the attention of the wolf. I’d thought I’d seen Luca’s darkness on a few occasions, had thought I’d glimpsed the monster beneath the civil mask before. Now I realized I hadn’t. His expression was void of emotion, but his eyes made the hairs on my neck rise.