Blood Always

by Ramsower, Jill

  A single tear slipped from the corner of my eye. Matteo swept it away with his calloused finger, finally drawing my eyes over to him. I hadn’t been watching him, but I got the feeling that as long as I’d been transfixed on the monitor, he’d been equally captivated staring at me.

  “When was the first day of your last period?” The doctor asked while she worked.

  “As close as I can remember, around July twenty-sixth.”

  “So that would put you at about six to seven weeks, which lines up with the measurements I’m taking.”

  “Six to seven weeks? I’m almost two months pregnant already?”

  “The pregnancy count starts on the first day of your last period, which means by the time most women find out they’re pregnant, they are well into the first trimester. That’s why we can hear the heartbeat already.”

  I was stunned. All I could do was lay there in a trance as she finished the exam. I only half listened as she prescribed prenatal vitamins and suggested I read up on pregnancy. I did hone in long enough to hear her say that our baby was due April twenty-eighth.

  In seven short months, I would be a mother.

  We rode back to the house in silence. It wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable, just a time for both of us to process what we’d learned and witnessed.

  When we stepped inside the house from the garage, Matteo gently swept me into his arms, bridal style, and carried me to our bedroom. He pulled the rubber band from my hair, then set about undressing me one article at a time. When I was bare before him, he stripped off his own clothes and guided us to the bed.

  I normally loved when he told me all the dirty things he wanted to do to me, but there was something deeply intimate about letting our eyes and mouths and hands do the talking. Matteo showered my body with adoration, kissing and stroking me until I was sure my mind would fracture with need. In that moment, he aligned our bodies, his mossy green eyes locked on mine, and pressed himself slowly inside me. No condom. Nothing between us.

  No walls or anger.

  No families or agendas.

  Just Maria and Matteo, raw and bared to one another.

  He made love to my body and soul, speaking to me in a way that was impossible to ignore. He told me that he saw past my darkness and jagged scars—beneath the vile parts of me I wanted desperately to throw away—and he wanted all of it. The beauty of who I was underneath and the complexity of the woman I showed to the world. As if the ugly wasn’t there, and all he saw was perfect grace.

  When faced with such absolute acceptance, I had no option but to hand myself over—wounds and heartache, devotion and loyalty—I gifted my soul to Matteo De Luca.

  I was offering him new ways to hurt me. Gambling on trust, with my heart as collateral. And I reveled in the realization that he would give me his last breath before causing me pain.

  All I could do was surrender and pray that I wasn’t making the biggest mistake of my life.

  Chapter 20

  Matteo

  “The wedding starts in an hour—you going to be ready soon?” I called out to Maria, who was hiding in our bathroom under the guise of getting ready.

  Sofia and Nico’s wedding was taking place in the city not far from our apartment, which made travel time minimal. The Church of the Blessed Sacrament was an enormous old Catholic cathedral near Lincoln Square in central Manhattan. From there, the attendees would congregate at The Plaza hotel a few blocks south for the reception. Representatives from all five families, and even a few Russians, would be in attendance.

  I still had a lot to learn about my wife, but it didn’t take a genius to tell she was stalling. She had said she didn’t want to go because of Stefano, but I hadn’t fully grasped the extent of her aversion to seeing him. Everyone exaggerates, which means it can be hard to tell the authenticity of someone’s statements unless you know them well. I hadn’t believed Maria would truly miss her sister’s wedding because of one man’s presence. Watching her delay as the wedding drew closer, I wasn’t so sure.

  “I’ll be there in just a minute. My hair isn’t cooperating.” Her muffled voice carried from the closet to where I stood in the bedroom doorway. She had been invited to do hair and makeup with the rest of the bridal party but had declined out of concern for her uneasy stomach. I couldn’t help but wonder if it had more to do with her boycott of the event itself than anything else.

  I shook my head and retreated back to the living room, just in time to catch my phone ringing. Filip’s name shone on the screen.

  “Yeah.”

  “Got some information for you, although I’m not sure exactly where it’s headed.”

  “Stefano?”

  “Yeah. I can’t find anything directly linking him to Marco’s death, but I’m looking into another matter. It seems our guy was linked to the death of a woman who lived close to him. It may be totally unrelated, but something about it didn’t feel right. I figured I’d look into it.”

  “Linked? Was he just questioned in her death or did it go further?”

  “He was the number one suspect—charged and arrested, but when it came time for the arraignment, they let him go on insufficient evidence.”

  “When was she killed?”

  “Summer of 2002.”

  “That’s just a few months before Marco was killed,” I mused. “I don’t see how the two events could be connected but keep digging. I agree there might be something there. Did you learn anything more about Marco’s death?” I’d ordered Filip to find out what he could as discretely as possible about Marco’s death and how it might relate to Stefano. I didn’t want to stir up any trouble if there wasn’t a foundation of truth in Maria’s claims. Filip may have been a pain in my ass, but I trusted him more than anyone else to follow my instructions.

  “Kid was killed by a couple of Pagans.”

  Confusion knotted my brows together. How the fuck did the Pagans play into this? They were a ruthless motorcycle gang spanning the entire east coast. They were the first to adopt the 1%er patch—a designation that they were the one percent of motorcyclists who lived outside the law. And they took that shit seriously. None of the families liked to go near them because they were so fucking unpredictable.

  “Why would the Pagans go after Enzo’s kid? And why would Maria think the Gallos were associated with his death?”

  “No one on our end seems to know exactly what happened, but word is that Enzo walked into the next Commission meeting after his son’s death and presented a Gallo family ring as evidence of Gallo involvement. The Luccianos declared war that day, and Angelo was only too happy to engage.”

  Could Angelo have been behind the kid’s death? It was entirely possible, but there was no way to ask him now, and he never kept any written evidence of anything in his life. When he died, there’d hardly been any personal effects in his house, let alone evidence of his life in the family.

  “You did good, Filip. We gotta figure out whose ring that was, though. It’s got to be the key—seems too convenient that the Pagans would have it.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” my brother agreed.

  “Keep digging, but remember to be quiet about it,” I reminded him.

  “You gonna tell me what the hell this is all about?” There was a tinge of annoyance in his voice. He wanted me to show my cards, but he was forgetting that, in this scenario, I was his boss, not his brother.

  “No, and you should know better than to ask. If I wanted you to know my reasons, I would have told you already.” He was raised in the life just as much as I was and knew the score. Hell, when I’d become underboss and brought him with me as my second, I was clear on the nature of our relationship.

  “I know, but it doesn’t hurt to ask.”

  “It might if you annoy me enough,” I shot back at him.

  He huffed. “Later, Boss.” I could hear the smirk in his tone and couldn’t keep my own smile from forming. What was it about youngest siblings that made them so fucking forgivable?

  I slid m
y phone into my jacket pocket and started for the bedroom, just as Maria’s heels began to clack on the stone floor. Sofia had selected a gunmetal gray velvet dress for her bridesmaids. The flowing gown was floor length to help with the October chill and had loose short sleeves and a wrap-dress style crisscross front that accentuated Maria’s ample chest. The look was stunning on her—even the velvet sheen that might be unflattering on another woman highlighted Maria’s perfectly smooth curves. Perhaps others would disagree, but in my eyes, Maria would far outshine her sister.

  I silently devoured her until pink tinged her cheeks. “There are no words for how beautiful you look.”

  She crossed her arms in an uncharacteristically self-conscious manner. “Let’s just get this over with.”

  I closed the distance between us, taking the jacket she held in her arms and holding it open to help her slip her arms inside. “In a matter of a few hours, it will all be over, and I’ll stay by your side whenever possible.”

  She finally met my gaze, offering a small, uncertain nod.

  From the moment we arrived, I held true to my word as best as I could. I escorted Maria to the room where her sisters and mother were gathered in their final preparations. We still had a half hour until the ceremony, so I watched the guests as they arrived, paying special attention to Stefano when he entered the sanctuary.

  The church Sofia had chosen was far larger than the one Maria and I had been married in, providing plenty of room for an extensive guest list. The strategic alliance between Luccianos and Gallos meant the capos from my family had all been invited, and Stefano was one of them.

  I hadn’t seen him in person since Maria made her request or even spoken directly to him since our wedding. I observed him from a distance, noting how he interacted with those around him. He was in his early sixties, on the skinny side, with hair dyed black to keep the gray from sneaking in. It didn’t look unnatural on him—his brows were still black, and his jaw bore a heavy shadow under the skin, speaking to the dark facial hair beneath.

  Just as Maria had suggested, he seemed to be well-liked. The other Gallo capos and their wives greeted him warmly. He himself was unmarried and came without a date, but that didn’t seem to dampen his mood. As for his reception among the Luccianos, I didn’t detect the undercurrent of animosity I might have expected. Granted, Marco’s death would have been far more personal to the Genoveses themselves. After so many years, it was possible the rest of their outfit had forgotten the suspected culprit to the crime. We are all selfish creatures. Despite our vows, the murder of someone we had no feelings for was easily forgotten over time.

  Stefano shook hands, gave hugs, and crouched to speak to the young children who had accompanied their parents. His smile was welcoming, and I could detect nothing that would make him stand out at being disloyal or evil.

  The one thing I found most interesting was the way Enzo greeted him. The two men shook hands and exchanged pleasantries as if they were simple business associates. That, I couldn’t believe. If Enzo knew Stefano was behind his son’s death, he never would have welcomed the man, even if he’d been forced to extend an invitation to the wedding out of duty to our alliance. Enzo never flinched, and Stefano didn’t hint at any guilt.

  Either Enzo didn’t know, or Maria was lying.

  The ceremony lasted over an hour with scripture readings and soloists performing. I watched Maria the entire time. The closer we neared to the finish line, the more fidgety she became. I could tell that she was more than just uncomfortable or bored. She reminded me of a child who had stolen money from a parent and was worried about being caught.

  Regardless of how it looked, I wouldn’t make any judgments until I had all the facts. Filip had plenty of questions yet to answer, and there was no deadline for the investigation.

  I stayed close to Maria throughout the extensive post-ceremony photo shoot, then drove us to The Plaza for the reception. All the churchgoers and those who had not attended the ceremony filled the enormous ballroom. Some sat at tables set for a sit-down dinner, while others mingled around the edges of the room.

  Over the next two hours, Maria executed a calculated dance. As in most dances, the two partners moved in synchrony, keeping a steady distance from one another in an easy rhythm. In this case, Stefano had no clue he was a party to the dance, and the rhythm derived from the flow of the party, rather than the beat of one particular song. Maria didn’t look directly at him, but no matter where he was in the room, she kept herself a good fifty feet away. It was truly impressive.

  I waited until Maria asked to have a dance with Nico before I crossed the room to Stefano’s table to have a chat. The timing was perfect. As I approached, the couple he’d been sitting with got up and moved toward the dance floor. He turned toward the people seated at the table nearby, but before he could strike up a conversation, I pulled out a chair next to him.

  “Stefano, mind if I join you?” I asked without waiting for an answer.

  “Yeah, of course, have a seat.” He sat up taller in his chair and reached for his near-empty glass of amber liquid.

  “No date tonight?” I asked, jumping into mindless small talk that I couldn’t care less about. I didn’t give a shit if he had a date or not, but it was a good place to start a conversation.

  “Nah, I find women get too clingy when you invite them to shit like this. They see the priest and a veil, and it fucks with their heads. Doesn’t matter how many times I say I’m not interested in anything long term. Anymore, I just avoid the whole thing.” His hand went for his drink again, now dry of any liquid, but that didn’t stop him from trying to coax a drop from between the ice cubes. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was nervous.

  Had he always been like that, and I’d simply never noticed? Could my newly acquired promotion have changed the way he viewed me? It would be understandable for him to feel more uneasy around me now that I was the boss.

  “You ever been married?” I’d known him most of my adult life, but he was almost thirty years older than me.

  I was watching him intently, noting the way his broad smile faltered at my question.

  “No, I’ve never been a one-woman kind of man.”

  “I wasn’t sure I was either, but I have to say, it’s not so bad.”

  Like the mirror in a bathroom fogging over during a steamy shower, Stefano’s dark eyes became inscrutable. “I take it things with Maria are going well?”

  Interesting.

  Why was it he was far more at ease with Enzo than me, especially when the topic of Maria came up? I would definitely need to keep digging.

  “Very well. She’s quite a bit younger than me, but that hasn’t been an issue.” I spotted Maria as she finished her dance beyond Stefano’s shoulder. “Speak of the devil—I better get back to my wife, she’s not a fan of weddings.”

  In the middle of chasing after another drop from his empty glass, Stefano choked, launching into a coughing fit.

  “You okay?” I asked, without any real concern, as I rose from my chair.

  He waved his hand at me and nodded, unable to speak. I took him at his word, not caring if he choked and died right there in the middle of Sofia’s reception. He was hiding something, as was Maria, and I wasn’t going to stop until I got to the bottom of it.

  Chapter 21

  Maria

  I’d never spent much effort getting to know Nico, but he’d been in our lives for a long time, considering Sofia had latched onto him at the tender age of five and never let go. Even when he broke her heart and they parted ways, she still clung to his memory like a drowning man clings to his last lungful of air.

  I’d caught wind through the rancid teenage rumor mill in our small Staten Island community how he’d savagely ended their relationship in a very public fashion. I was the one who had helped sneak her out of the house when she was just a freshman in high school and handed her over to be mistreated and humiliated. Not that I could have known what would happen, but I begrudged Nico, if nothin
g else, for the fact that I’d been forced into that position.

  Sofia and I were never particularly close, but that didn’t change the fact that she was my sister. My blood. Family stands up for one another, no matter what. Two weeks after their breakup, once it was clear they were not getting back together, I hunted down Nico and had words with him. Since the two had reunited, the conversation Nico and I shared so many years before hadn’t been revisited. But on the day when he swore an oath in front of God and our families to love and protect Sofia, I figured it was time.

  “Care for a dance?” I asked Nico while Sofia was animatedly chatting with several of her guests.

  “Assuming ‘a dance’ isn’t code for a knife through the heart, then yes.”

  I smiled, appreciating that my reputation preceded me.

  He held out his elbow, and once I placed my hand on his arm, he led us to the dancefloor. The smooth strains of a James Taylor song filled the busy room, providing an easy rhythm for a private conversation.

  “Years ago, you promised me you’d never step foot back into Sofia’s life.” My words were casual, and my eyes were cast over his shoulder as if I were totally uninvested in our dialogue, but we both knew our exchange was far more than a simple dance.

  “I did, but I also swore an oath to your father and the family. You know very well I was ordered back into her life.”

  “Absolutely, and I want you to know that I understand why you broke your promise, and I’m glad to see Sofia so happy.”

  “But?” he asked in an amused rumble.

  “But, if you hurt her again, I’ll make you choke on your own dick after I slice it from your body.” My eyes finally slid over to his, giving him a perfect view of my unwavering sincerity.