Bound By Blood

by Reilly, Cora

  Mauro

  The mafia world was built on rules.

  Rules never to be broken. They’d outlasted generations, resisting the ever-occurring changes of modern society. They were like the Colosseum. The foundations of our traditions remained steadfast even as we adapted to our surroundings.

  One of those rules was not to desire a girl that wasn’t promised to you, especially if said girl was your stepsister.

  As Underboss of Cleveland, my father needed to remarry after his first wife, my mother, died. I was eleven when she passed away, still a boy and yet well-acquainted with death. Growing up in the mafia, especially if your father was one of the Famiglia’s Underbosses and ruled over hundreds of men, you were introduced to the dark underbelly of the business early, to harden you for future tasks.

  Father waited exactly the expected year before he married Felicitas and disappeared into their cocoon of wedded bliss, leaving me to deal with something I hadn’t bargained for: a kid-stepsister. The first time I met Stella, she was seven with braces and ridiculous pigtails, and so goddamn shy, she didn’t talk to me for a week after she moved in. That changed quickly though and as her mother began popping out three babies in short succession, forgetting about her oldest daughter’s existence, Stella became my shadow and I, her—at first not so willing—protector and companion.

  Stella had always been a kid in my eyes, a girl I needed to protect because we were family, albeit not by blood and not even by choice because nobody asked us before our parents sealed their bond. Being five years my junior, I hadn’t noticed the gradual changes in her body because I didn’t pay any fucking attention to her body. Small shifts right before my eyes just didn’t register. Until Father sent me away to help our family in Sicily in their fight against the other mob famiglias. I was gone for a little over a year and when I saw Stella for the first time after all that time, I did a double take. She rushed toward me with a huge smile and flung herself into my arms. I hugged her back after a moment, suddenly feeling her curves, her breasts pressing against my chest. When I pulled back, I actually checked her out. Something I’d never done. She was Stella, my stepsister, not a girl I checked out. And yet my eyes lingered on all the right places, and fuck, they were spectacular. Stella shared her mother’s breathtaking beauty, but luckily not her self-centered vanity or air-headedness.

  Had I just never noticed her curves or had Stella developed them all in only a year?

  It seemed impossible. I must have been oblivious, and it was a state I needed to reach quickly again. Stella was completely off-limits. Fuck, we shared a last name. We were family.

  After that day, I made an extra effort to not look at her body, focusing only on her face. Yet, even that didn’t help matters. Because Stella’s blue eyes and teasing smile haunted my nights, and sometimes even popped up when I fucked another woman. It was maddening.

  Stella had become a fucking star, shining so brightly that she’d burned herself into my mind. No matter what I did, the image of her smile, of her curves, flashed up, even when I closed my eyes. It was like closing your eyes after you’d looked directly at the sun for too long: speckles of light kept dancing against the dark of your eyelids, reminding you of the enticing brightness you’d closed off.

  I cleaned my hands of the blood. The cleaners took care of the body and the cut off parts. Torturing Bratva assholes for information was one of the perks of my job, which currently was jack-of-all-trades because at twenty-three, my father wanted to show me the ins and outs of every area of the business in our city before I’d take over from him in a few years.

  My phone rang and I dried my hands before I took the call.

  “Mauro, I need you to come over right away to watch Stella.”

  I paused. “I thought you were leaving for Vermont today?” At every family dinner, I’d been forced to attend in the last few weeks, Felicitas hadn’t shut up about their upcoming ski trip to one of those uptight luxury resorts.

  “We are,” Father said impatiently. “But Stella’s not coming with us.”

  “What about the midgets?” That’s what I called my three little half-siblings.

  “Of course, they are coming with us. Felicitas would go crazy if she had to be separated from her children for a week.”

  “Stella is her kid too, she knows that, right?”

  “I don’t have time to talk about this. Come over. You need to stay here the days we are gone and protect Stella.” He hung up, not waiting for my reply. Naturally, he expected obedience. His soldiers always followed his command after all, and as his son, I was little more than that in his eyes.

  I grabbed my car keys, left the torture room and hurried toward my car, a new Aston Martin model that Father had given me on my last birthday. What he lacked in praise and affection, he made up with money and pricy gifts tenfold. I wasn’t a little kid anymore who craved his love or approval, so I was fine with our arrangement. I froze with my pointer finger against the start engine button when I realized what Father’s newest task of babysitting meant for me. I’d have to spend an entire week under a roof with Stella, my off-limits stepsister who visited my dreams almost every night.

  Fuck. I was so screwed. Something I couldn’t do with Stella—never.

  Stella

  Mother didn’t deign me with a single glance as she ushered my three half-siblings into the lobby where their luggage waited for the bodyguards to pick them up. She’d never been this motherly to me, not even when I had been younger. Maybe it was because she’d been only nineteen when she had me, or maybe she just didn’t like me very much because half of me was Dad. She’d never looked in love with him while she seemed infatuated like a teenager with Alfredo.

  “Where is he?” Mother asked, annoyed, as she peered at her Rolex, matching the Rolex around Alfredo’s wrist.

  Alfredo knew that tone, and he took out his phone to call Mauro.

  Excitement bubbled in me when I thought of spending a week alone with Mauro. When he’d moved out, and worse, spent a year abroad, I’d been devastated. He’d always been the only one who sided with me in this house. As a Made Man he was busy, so I only saw him once a week when he visited for family dinner. Before his time in Sicily he’d occasionally picked me up so we could do something together, but that never happened anymore.

  A ring sounded and Mauro appeared in the open doorway, rolling his eyes at his father. “I’m here. I came as quickly as I could. Unfortunately, I’m not the only car on the street.”

  “We’re going to be late for our flight,” Mother said. I hovered on the last step of the staircase and gave Mauro a quick smile, trying to ignore the way my belly fluttered. For three years, I’d been in love with him, a completely insane, impossible crush I couldn’t shake. It was a good thing that Mauro didn’t see me as more than his little stepsister, someone he now had to babysit as if I were eight and not almost eighteen.

  Mauro cocked an eyebrow at me over my mother’s head and I had to bite back laughter. She’d probably have grounded me eternally if she’d discovered I wasn’t half as sad as she wanted me to be because I wasn’t allowed to go on their ski adventure with them.

  “Will you be gone the planned week?” Mauro asked.

  “Of course,” Alfredo said as if it was a stupid question.

  Mauro’s eyes tightened, his brows building a V and a muscle in his left cheek twitched in a way that showed his displeasure over the situation. Was it so bad to spend a few days with me?

  “Stella’s birthday is in four days. Isn’t it tradition to celebrate with the family?”

  Oh. He was pissed on my behalf. The stupid butterflies in my stomach rioted.

  Mother made a small noncommittal noise. “She should have thought about it before acting out.”

  My little sister had hit me with her Barbie doll because I didn’t do what she wanted, which was why I’d taken the thing away. Mother had spoiled her and my other half-siblings rotten and obviously preferred to keep it that way.

  I was g
lad to stay home. If I’d come along, they would have used me as a nanny and their metaphorical punching bag whenever something didn’t go as planned. A few chill days with Netflix, fast food, and Mauro sounded like pure bliss in comparison.

  Mauro shook his head again. Sometimes I got the feeling my mother’s lack of interest in me annoyed him more than it did me. It had bothered me for a long time, and it still occasionally did, but I’d come to terms with it. Mother wouldn’t miraculously become more caring or affectionate, and if I didn’t want her neglect to break me, I needed to accept it and move on.

  Mother, Alfonso, and the three spoiled little brats finally left the house. Mauro threw the door shut with more force than necessary, shaking his head. Then his gaze settled on me.

  “You look as if you got a jail sentence. Is it really so bad to stay with me?”

  Mauro ran a hand through his dark hair, those milk-chocolate brown eyes locking on mine. “No. But I hate to be called away from business because of last-minute theatricals.”

  “You had plans?” I asked, wondering if he was currently seeing a girl.

  He couldn’t really date. Women from our world were only allowed to be with their husband, and Outsiders could never be more than an affair. Still, it bothered me that Mauro was with other girls when it decidedly shouldn’t. He wasn’t mine, never would be. The butterflies stopped their maddening fluttering as if someone had ripped their wings off, and that’s how it felt whenever I considered how doomed my feelings for Mauro were.

  I couldn’t stop myself from checking him out. He was tall, more than a head taller than me, and muscled but not bulky. He was lithe, deadly, and just ridiculously handsome. His shirt hugged his six-pack, his pecs, and his strong biceps. Because the shirt was white, the outline of his Famiglia tattoo that every Made Man got for his initiation shone through.

  Born in Blood. Sworn in Blood.

  I enter alive and leave dead.

  Why couldn’t I stop looking at him as if I could ever be with him? It was wrong. Our parents would never allow it. Mainly because of the major scandal it would cause. I wasn’t sure how long I checked him out, but Mauro seemed lost in his own thoughts. He was watching me in a way as if I was his nightmare come true, and I didn’t understand it. We’d been so close before he went off to Sicily and we were still close while he was there, but things had become tense, almost awkward at times. I wasn’t brave enough to ask him why. Maybe it was something that happened with all people in my life. They eventually lost interest in me.

  Mauro

  I stared out into the night. Fuck, I wasn’t scared of anything, but now I was acting like a goddamn pussy. Too scared of sleep. Too scared of my mind’s torturous fantasies that only got more creative with every passing day in close proximity to Stella. We’d spent three whole days together so far. I was torn between wanting our time alone together to be over as quickly as possible—to prevent a misfortune from happening—and wanting to prolong it.

  Stella was my drug of choice. She was oblivious to my dirty thoughts, to all the ways I’d already fucked her in my fantasies. Today she was still seventeen, tomorrow she’d finally be of age. Finally? Another barrier crumbling, another hit for my dwindling self-control.

  Fuck. Father had given me one job: keep an eye on Stella, protect her physical well-being and her honor. The latter probably more than the former. After all, a girl in our circles was judged by her fucking pureness. That was the reason for the disgusting bloody sheets tradition. He still wanted to marry her off to the highest bidder one day. If I acted on my fantasies, that could ruin his plans.

  My eyes registered a moving shadow on the premises. At first, I was sure my mind was playing a trick on me. We had an advanced alarm system for the yard and house, which went off as soon as anything bigger than a cat tried to get over the fence. It was necessary because our territory bordered on enemy land, and the Outfit had been attacking frequently since the truce had been broken.

  Another shadow, then another. What the fuck?

  Glass shattered somewhere in the house. No alarm. Nothing.

  I whirled around, grabbed my Berettas from the nightstand, and stormed down the hallway toward Stella’s room, shoving one gun into the waistband of my sweatpants. I barreled inside and staggered toward her bed, grasping her arm. I jerked her upward, and she awakened with a gasp, her eyes wide with fear. Her lips opened to cry out, but my hand clamped down on her mouth. Finally, her eyes settled on my face and her brows pulled together in confusion.

  “Attackers are in the house. Come on, I need to get you to the panic room.”

  “The alarm?” she asked. I pulled her out of bed when she didn’t move.

  “Stella, follow me!” After another moment of hesitation, she finally acted on my orders. Pulling my second gun out, I handed it to Stella. She shook her head. “I don’t know how to shoot.”

  “Point at an attacker and pull the fucking trigger, that’s it.”

  She took the gun, and I led us into the hallway. “Stay behind me at all times and don’t shoot me in the back by accident. And for fuck’s sake, do what I say, no questions asked.”

  She nodded mutely, obviously stunned by my dominant demeanor.

  We hurried toward the staircase. Hushed male voices were coming from the living room.

  “Quick,” I rasped. I grabbed her wrist because she looked frozen. I hurried down the staircase, dragging Stella after me.

  The entrance to the panic room was in Father’s office on the ground floor, the last door on the right, branching off from the lobby. An attacker appeared in the doorway to the living room when we reached the last step. I pulled the trigger and sent a bullet through his left eye. He tumbled to the ground with a resounding thud. I dragged Stella past the body, hearing steps of several more intruders in the living room. I ran faster even though Stella panted desperately behind me. With a hard shove, I pushed the door open, ran inside and entered a code into the keypad beside one of the bookshelves. The floor parted beside the desk, revealing a narrow staircase and an underground panic room.

  “Go in!” I shoved Stella in the direction of the opening. She clambered down a few steps.

  “Don’t leave me alone.” Her eyes were wide and fearful.

  “Down!” I snarled.

  She disappeared, and I quickly climbed down as well. Only my head peeked out from the hole in the floor when another attacker glimpsed into the room. Like the first attacker, I didn’t recognize his face. I shot, but he jerked back and the bullet collided with the wall behind him, sending plaster flying everywhere. I pressed the close button, and the floor slid shut within seconds, then I punched a code into the pad that would guarantee no one got down here who didn’t know the correct numbers. A flicker of a face peered down at me a moment before the door clicked shut. Was it the Bratva or the Outfit? Both were giving us trouble.

  Gritting my teeth, I turned and tensed.

  Stella stood in the middle of the hundred-twenty square foot room, her arms wrapped around her middle, looking completely out of it. Her breathing came out in sharp bursts, panic flickering in her eyes. Her gaze darted around the room restlessly.

  “It’s okay. This room is safe.” I tried to calm her, but my words barely registered.

  She seemed to be going into shock, her chest rising and falling rapidly. I tore my eyes from her breasts, shoved my gun into the waistband of my sweatpants and moved toward her, carefully prying the gun from her clenched fingers. Pushing it into the back of my waistband, I touched Stella’s cheek. She tilted her head up, her gaze meeting mine. She was more than a head shorter than me, and my protectiveness reared its head. I stroked a few strands of her caramel brown hair from her sweaty forehead.

  “You are safe, Stella.”

  “You are here,” she whispered as if that affirmed my words.

  “I’ll protect you.”

  She looked around again. The room was meant for a short stay. Six bunk beds lined the walls to our left and right. The back of the
room had a small kitchenette and a narrow closed-off bathroom. Though it was the size of a broom closet, no more. You could pretty much shower while you sat on the toilet.

  Right beside the steep ladder was a sofa and a small TV. That was all.

  “We’re trapped under the floor,” she whispered, looking up at the low ceiling and swallowing hard. Only a light bulb dangled above our heads.

  “Just think of this as a normal apartment.”

  “It doesn’t have any windows.”

  “A shitty apartment then.”

  She giggled nervously. My fingers found her throat and her fluttering pulse beneath her satin-soft skin.

  “We won’t have to stay down here long. Soon reinforcements will arrive.” But the alarm hadn’t gone off. I went over to the small console beside the ladder and pressed the alarm button which was connected to our main security system. A red light flashed. No connection. Fuck. I glanced up the ladder, hearing footsteps above us. They couldn’t get down here unless they blasted the entire house into smithereens. But if reinforcements weren’t alerted, Stella and I were stuck down here until our parents returned, and that was in three days. A long time to be stuck in an underground room, especially with your tantalizing half-dressed stepsister. My eyes registered Stella’s flimsy nightgown for the first time. This was a nightmare, and not mainly because of the attackers who potentially wanted to torture and kill us.

  “I didn’t hear an alarm,” Stella said, searching my eyes.

  Damn. I sighed. For some reason, I never liked lying to her. “It didn’t go off. They disabled it.”

  Her eyes darted up to the trapdoor. “But they aren’t going to come in?”

  “No, not without a code.”

  She nodded, biting her lip, still looking so fucking lost and scared.

  I returned to her side and stroked her cheek with the pad of my thumb. Fuck, why couldn’t I stop touching her? “I swear you’re safe.”