by Cora Reilly
“Let me through!” Gianna screeched and stormed into the room. As an unmarried woman, she wasn’t supposed to be here, but of course the girl didn’t care. Her blue eyes landed on the sheets before they jerked toward Aria. Her face reflected worry and fear, and my annoyance with her decreased slightly. She was concerned for sister.
She turned to me with a look that was probably intended to intimidate. I cocked my eyebrows at her and the little wench actually took a step in my direction to do god only knew what. Like her sister, she only reached my chest and weighed less than half of me, not to mention the only fight experience she probably had was with her tiny midget of a brother.
“Gianna,” Aria said sharply, her eyes darting between her sister and me. “Will you help me get dressed?” Aria turned and walked toward the bath, her movements stiff as if she was sore. I was torn between admiration for her show and frustration over the fact that there was even a reason for her to pretend.
After she’d sent me another scathing look, Gianna followed after her sister and closed the door.
Nina shook her head, turning to Ludevica Scuderi. “Gianna doesn’t know how to behave herself. I doubt her future husband will tolerate that kind of behavior.”
Considering how little Rocco cared about the wellbeing of his daughters, he’d probably give her to a sadistic bastard who’d beat Gianna into shape, but that wasn’t my concern.
Nina held the folded sheets in her palms, the blood stains on display.
Ludevica was pointedly not looking at them or me.
“I don’t have all day,” I said. “Why don’t you head downstairs and prepare everything for the show?”
The women left and I closed the door, glad to have them gone. They hadn’t been suspicious, that much was clear, and why would they be? I was Luca fucking Vitiello. Sparing my bride definitely didn’t fit my reputation.
I headed for the bathroom. I needed a good shave and a fucking cold shower. I pushed the door open when I was met with resistance and Gianna’s angry face came into view in the gap.
“You can’t come in,” she hissed, narrowing her eyes at me. She was a kitten trying to scare the tiger.
“I’m her husband, now step back,” I said. I could have pushed the door open without trouble, but shoving a girl out of my way wasn’t my favorite option.
“I don’t care that you’re her husband,” she muttered.
Okay, I had given all of my meager patience to Aria last night. I pushed harder and Gianna stumbled backwards, her eyes flashing indignantly. The spitfire stepped in my way, trying to stop me, but my eyes were drawn to movement in the shower where Aria whirled around, turning her back to us. Sweet Jesus. That woman’s back was already enough to give me another boner.
“Leave.” Gianna’s hiss brought my attention back to her.
“I need to get ready, and there’s nothing here that I haven’t already seen.” A big fat lie, one I’d have to tell over and over again today when the sheets were presented.
I glared at Gianna. “Now leave, or you’ll see your first cock, girl, because I’m going to undress now.”
I reached for my boxers, but it was an empty threat, unfortunately. Scuderi would lose his shit if I showed my dick to his daughter—the one that wasn’t married to me, at least. He probably didn’t care what I did to Aria, considering he would have let me marry her when she was only fifteen. Not that I gave a fuck about Scuderi but it would have been dishonorable.
“You arrogant asshole, I—” Gianna began, and I was close to forget about doing the honorable thing when Aria told her sister to leave and finally the redhead moved toward the door. “You’re a sadistic pig,” she muttered before she closed the door. No one had ever insulted me like that and lived to see another day, but she was safe, because she was a girl and Aria’s sister.
Stifling my anger, I moved toward the washstand, but my eyes remained on Aria. She tensed when the door shut and we were alone. She was still afraid of me, even though I’d bled and lied for her. I couldn’t even blame her for her distrust. With a man like me, she had every reason to expect the worst. I took my brush and started spreading shaving cream on my face when she finally turned the shower off. Then she turned, and I halted in my movements. My eyes drank her in. She was perfection. Her skin glowed and looked like silk, even her pussy. She’d been waxed for her wedding night, only a small triangle of blond remaining, but nothing hid the delicious crease between her thighs, a place I could have sunk my cock into last night. Aria let me admire her, standing completely still, but a blush traveled over her throat and face.
I set my brush down and took one of the towels from the rack before I moved toward her. Aria’s eyes held insecurity as she opened the shower stall and took the towel with a small thanks. I couldn’t stop looking at her and, so close-up, her nakedness called even louder to the worst in me, the monster in me beckoning to be unleashed.
Aria wrapped herself in the towel and stepped out of the shower. She peered up at me. She was petite, vulnerable, breathtakingly beautiful and unconditionally mine.
“I bet you’re already regretting your decision,” she said, her eyes searching mine, looking for something all women hoped for: tenderness, affection, love. She wouldn’t find any of those things in my eyes…or my heart.
I couldn’t and wouldn’t give her those things, but I could treat her with the respect she deserved as my wife, as the woman I swore to protect. I’d respect her body, would honor her ‘no’ as if it were my own. That was all I could give her.
I returned to the washstand and picked up my shaving brush. Aria slipped past me and was almost out of the door when I gave her an answer: “No.”
She peered over her shoulder at me.
“When I claim your body, I want you writhing beneath me in pleasure, not fear.”
Aria’s eyes widened, lips parting, and then she quickly left.
I set the brush back down, grabbed the edge of the washstand and stared at my reflection. I had no trouble being a monster—it was in my nature and I enjoyed it—but the second I’d seen Aria, I’d made a vow to keep that part of myself away from her.
The women I’d fucked over the years had sought my closeness because they’d been looking for a thrill, had wanted to be dominated and to submit to someone dangerous. For them it had been a game, a sexual role play that got them wet, because those women didn’t understand that it wasn’t a role, not a fucking game. I was a monster. There wasn’t a role I played when I was with them, and it definitely wasn’t a role when I tortured and killed. Aria knew all those things. She knew the monster I harbored because she’d grown up in a world where men domineered women, where they owned them, where rape fantasies weren’t just that. They were horror stories spoken in hushed whispers among the married women. They were the shapeless fears of girls before their wedding night.
With those clueless women, I’d enjoyed being rough, treating them like shit, because they got a thrill out of it and because it was the only way I could at least be partly myself, but with Aria, I didn’t have to pretend I was someone else.
She knew what I was, and for some reason that made me want to be good to her, to show her that there was more than brutality. At least when she was concerned.
CHAPTER 8
I took a long time, showering and wanking like a goddamn teenage boy. With a gorgeous woman in my bed all night, I really shouldn’t be suffering from blue balls, and yet here I was. Slinging a towel around my waist, I stepped out of the bathroom.
Aria perched on the stool in front of her vanity, blond hair trailing down her back and using whatever women used to accentuate their eyes—not that Aria needed it. Her eyes widened in shock when she saw me. They trailed the length of me, fascination reflecting on her face. Stifling a groan at her innocent appraisal, I stalked toward the wardrobe and grabbed a few clothes. Knowing she was still watching, I let my towel fall to the ground. She sucked in a breath and my cock gave a fucking twitch, imagining how she was blushing. When I�
�d put on briefs and pants, I turned. As expected, Aria’s cheeks were flushed. She pretended to be busy inspecting her nails, but she wasn’t fooling me. She was too embarrassed to face me.
It was something new for me. I didn’t have experience with a girl like her. The women of my past had been straightforward with their demands and practiced in their advances. Aria wasn’t, and I wasn’t entirely sure how to handle her.
Taking the guns from the table, I began strapping them to my holsters as I did every day, as I’d done for as long as I could remember.
“Do you ever go anywhere without guns?” Aria asked quietly, turning around in her stool to face me. She was wearing some sort of long dress with a golden belt and golden sandals, reminding me of an Egyptian princess even if her hair didn’t match the image. It was still strange to think that she was really mine, that she would be mine until the very end. This wasn’t for one night or a few weeks of mindless pleasure. This wasn’t no-strings-attached. This was forever, for both of us. She was my responsibility from this day on. Remembering how my father had failed his wives, both my mother and now Nina, it seemed like a fucking impossible challenge.
“Not if I can avoid it. Do you know how to shoot a gun or use a knife?”
“No. My father doesn’t think women should get involved in fights.”
“Sometimes fights come to you. The Bratva and the Triad don’t distinguish between men and women.” The Triad had laid low. Most of their territories had been claimed by the Bratva, so they were the ones we were worried about.
Aria tilted her head. “So you’ve never killed a woman?”
“I didn’t say that.” Aria didn’t need to know how the Bratva had almost gotten me. It wasn’t something I wanted people to know.
Aria rose from the chair, smoothing the long dress out. I was glad she’d chosen something floor-length. It made things easier. People might suspect I’d left my marks on her upper thighs. “Good choice. The dress covers your legs.”
“Someone could lift the skirt and inspect my thighs.”
I had seen the way many men had leered at her yesterday when they thought I wasn’t paying attention. “Someone tries to touch you, they lose their hand.”
Aria’s eyes widened in shock. She’d have to get used to my possessiveness. “Come on.” I led her out into the hallway and closer to the main hall. A few male guests were still in the lobby, but the majority of voices came from the dining room.
Aria stiffened. “Are they all waiting to see a bloody sheet?” Her skin turned red.
“Many of them, especially the women. The men might hope for dirty details; others might hope to talk about business, ask a favor, or get on my good side.”
Aria made no move to descend the stairs, so I nudged her forward gently. We walked down close together and I had to slow my steps considerably to adapt to her shorter legs. I’d never walked hand-in-hand with a woman, so this was something new.
Romero greeted us with a smile. “How are you?” he asked Aria and then looked like he wanted to swallow his tongue.
Asking a bride that kind of question after her first night was definitely inappropriate. I chuckled, but my mood dropped when the gathered men sent me winks and grins. Everyone thought I’d spent the night banging my stunning wife. Aria surprised me when she pressed closer to me. It took me a second to realize she was seeking protection from their attention. I wrapped my arm around her waist and sent them a warning look. They averted their eyes.
“Matteo and the rest of your family are in the dining room,” Romero said.
“Poring over the sheets?”
“As if they could read them like tea leaves,” Romero confirmed, then gave Aria an apologetic look.
“Come.” I led Aria toward the dining room despite her tension. The presentation of the sheets was something we couldn’t evade. Everyone was waiting for us and fell silent when we entered. My father, the Famiglia Underbosses, the Cavallaros and Scuderi had gathered around the dining table. Most of the high-ranking Outfit men had already left with their families this morning to return to their respective territories.
Aria squirmed under the attention. Soon she’d have to face the women who looked like famished dogs with their sights set on a piece of meat. Father nodded toward me with a look in his eyes that made me want to push Aria behind me. Thankfully, Matteo chose that moment to walk up to us, looking a mess with bags under his eyes and stubble. For him, that was the equivalent of a stylish meltdown.
“You look like shit,” I told him as he sipped on his espresso.
Matteo’s eyes darted from me to Aria. “My tenth espresso and I’m still not awake. Drank too much last night.”
“You were trashed. I’d have had your tongue cut out for some of the things you said to Aria if you weren’t my brother.”
Matteo gave Aria a grin. “I hope Luca didn’t do half of the things I suggested.”
Aria blushed furiously and leaned into me once more. I stroked her side in reassurance. She didn’t have to be wary of my brother. She twitched, giving me a surprised look. To be honest, I wasn’t sure why I’d felt the need to console her at all.
“Quite a work of art you presented us,” Matteo said, nodding in the direction of the bloody sheets, causing Aria to stiffen in my embrace.
I searched Matteo’s face, not sure if he suspected I had spared Aria. It couldn’t be because of the sheets, because if something about them looked fake, he would have warned me.
Matteo’s eyes held a knowing gleam. The asshole could read me too well. Father and Fiore waved at us to come over to them. Stifling a groan, I indicated Matteo that I’d have to move to the table. Matteo smiled but didn’t move an inch, obviously not in the mood to talk to them.
Aria followed me toward the table. Her face reflected anxiety, and I could only hope that she’d be able to keep up the charade. The men rose. Father’s leer made me want to drag Aria right back out, but that wasn’t an option.
Scuderi spread his arms and I reluctantly released Aria so he could embrace her. I couldn’t hear what he said, but Aria didn’t look happy about it. Fiore smiled and shook my hand. “It seems you are still satisfied with our choice for you.”
I nodded. I knew this was only the beginning. The moment Aria was out of earshot, the men would try to extract details of my night with her.
Father put a hand on my shoulder before he gave Aria and me his false benevolent smile. “I hope we can expect small Vitiellos soon.”
Aria’s eyes widened a tad before she could mask her shock. I had absolutely no intention of having kids anytime soon—not as long as my father was in power. He wasn’t that old yet, only in his mid-fifties, but I hoped he’d find an end soon. “I want to enjoy Aria alone for a long while. And with the Bratva closing in, I wouldn’t want to have children to worry over.”
Father gave me a knowing smile, thinking I wanted to fuck my young wife in peace for a while. “Yes, yes, of course. Understandable.”
“I hear the Bratva sent a new Pakhan into your territory,” I said to Fiore, wanting the topic of my wife off the table.
Fiore nodded then looked at Dante who frowned. “Yes, Grigory Mikhailov. We’re still trying to check his background. He used to work directly under the Pakhan in Yekaterinburg, and now he’s taking over everything in Chicago. Unpredictable und brutal. They call him Stalin.”
Aria peered up at me and I loosened my hold on her. This wasn’t anything she needed to worry about. The women were throwing eager glances her way, anyway. She quickly walked away and toward them, stopping beside her mother and sister.
“Can’t take your eyes off your wife?” Father asked with a chuckle.
I only smiled coldly. The less I said the better. Nina pointed at the sheets and giggling rose among the women. Only Aria looked like she wanted to be swallowed whole by the ground.
Scuderi turned to us. “I must say I find your tradition of the bloody sheets enlightening.”
“Maybe it’s a tradition you’d like
to reintroduce once you’re Capo,” Father said to Dante who stood with his hands shoved into his pockets, looking completely uninterested. His cautious blue eyes settled on my father. “I prefer to focus on the future and not look for traditions of the past.”
“That’s good to hear,” Fiore said pointedly to his son.
My father gave me a look. He, too, had noticed the tension between the Cavallaro men. Obviously Fiore was unhappy about Dante. I could only assume it had something to do with the fact that Dante still hadn’t married even though his wife had been dead for years.
“What about you, Luca? Are you thinking of changing the old traditions once you’re Capo?” Dante asked.
I smirked. “The Famiglia is built on tradition,” I said, then nodded toward my father with faked respect. “I’m not going to be Capo for a long time. My father is strong and I trust in his leadership.”
Father’s answering smile made me want to take my words back and end him right here and there.
Dante nodded, but his eyes held calculation.
Peace between us had an expiry date.
“Don’t hold back on us, Luca,” Durant said. “Tell us more about your first night with your beautiful wife.”
“I must say I would have expected more blood considering your size and hers,” Uncle Gottardo said with a cackle and a wink. There was something in his eyes that made me consider crushing his throat like I had his son’s. Dante’s mouth curled in disgust. Scuderi, on the other hand, didn’t seem to care that someone spoke like that about his daughter. If I ever had a daughter, I’d cut off anyone’s head who dared to talk that way about her.
Every man looked toward Aria then at me. I didn’t bother masking my anger and possessiveness. If my civil mask led to those kinds of questions, I’d rather drop it before my uncles got more blood than they bargained for. “I’m feared among my enemies and my soldiers. I don’t need to claim my wife without preparation so she bleeds more to gain anyone’s respect, Uncle.”