by Cora Reilly
Sunlight hit my face. I tried to stretch, but an arm was thrown over my waist and a firm chest pressed against my back. It took me a moment to remember where I was and what had happened yesterday, and then I stiffened.
“Good, you’re awake,” Luca said in a voice that was gruff with sleep.
Realization hit me. Luca. My husband. I was a married woman, but Luca had kept his promise. He hadn’t consummated the marriage. I opened my eyes. Luca’s hand gripped my hip and he turned me on my back. He was propped up on one elbow as his eyes took in my face. I wished I knew what he was thinking. It was strange to be in bed with a man. I could feel Luca’s heat, even though our bodies weren’t touching. In the sunlight the scars on his skin were somehow less prominent than last night, but his muscles were just as impressive. I wondered how they’d feel to the touch.
He reached up and took a strand of my hair between two fingers. I held my breath, but he released it after a moment, his face becoming calculating. “It won’t be long until my stepmother, my aunts and the other married women of my family knock at our door to gather up the sheets and carry them into the dining room, where undoubtedly everyone else is already waiting for the fucking spectacle to begin.”
A blush spread over my cheeks and something in Luca’s eyes changed, some of the coldness replaced by another emotion. My eyes found the small cut on Luca’s arm. It hadn’t been deep and was already scabbing.
Luca nodded. “My blood will give them what they want. It’ll be the foundation of our story, but we’ll be expected to fill in the details. I know I’m a convincing liar. But will you be able to lie to everyone’s face, even your mother’s, when you tell them about our wedding night? Nobody can know what happened. It would make me look weak.” His lips tightened with regret. Regret for having spared me and gotten himself in the position of depending on my lying skills.
“Weak because you didn’t want to rape your wife?” I whispered.
Luca’s fingers on my hip tightened. I hadn’t even realized they were still there. Make him want to be good to you. Bibiana’s words flitted through my mind. Luca was a monster, there was no doubt about it. He couldn’t be anything else in order to survive as a leader in our world, but maybe I could make him keep the monster in chains when he was with me. It was more than I’d hoped for when he’d led me toward the bedroom last night.
Luca smiled coldly. “Weak for not taking what was mine for the taking. The tradition of bloody sheets in the Sicilian mafia is as much a proof of the bride’s purity as of the husband’s relentlessness. So what do you think it will say about me that I had you lying half-naked in my bed, vulnerable and mine, and yet here you are untouched as you were before our wedding?”
“Nobody will know. I won’t tell anyone.”
“Why should I trust you? I don’t make a habit of trusting people, especially people who hate me.”
I rested my palm against the cut on his arm, feeling his muscles flex beneath my touch. It felt as if I were touching stone. How was it possible that muscles could be unyielding like bone? Make him be good to you, make him love you. “I don’t hate you.” He narrowed his eyes, but it was mostly the truth. I would have hated him if he had forced himself on me. I certainly hated what marriage to him meant for me, but I didn’t know him well enough for real hate. Maybe it would come with time. “And you can trust me because I am your wife. I didn’t choose this marriage, but I can at least choose to make the best out of our bond. I have nothing to gain from betraying your trust, but everything to gain by showing you that I’m loyal.”
There was a flicker of something, maybe respect, in his expression. “The men waiting in that dining room are predators. They prey on the weak, and they’ve been waiting more than a decade for a sign of weakness from me. The moment they see one, they’ll pounce.”
“But your father—”
“If my father thinks I’m too weak to control the Famiglia, he’ll gladly let them tear me apart.”
What kind of life was it to have to be strong all the time, even around your closest family? At least I had my sisters and my brother, and even to some extent my mother and people like Valentina. Women were forgiven weakness in our world.
Luca’s eyes were hard. Maybe this would be the moment he’d decide it really wasn’t worth the risk and take me, but when his gaze finally settled back on my face, the darkness was at bay.
“What about Matteo?”
“I trust Matteo. But Matteo is hotheaded. He’d get himself killed trying to defend me.”
It was strange talking to Luca—to my husband—like this, almost like we knew each other. “Nobody will doubt me,” I said. “I’ll give them what they want to see.”
Luca sat up and my eyes were drawn to the tattoo over his heart, then took in the muscles of his chest and stomach. My cheeks heated when I met his gaze.
“You should be wearing more than this pitiful excuse for a nightgown when the harpies arrive. I don’t want them to see your body, especially your hips and upper thighs. It’s better when they wonder if I left marks on you,” he said. Then he smirked. “But we can’t hide your face from them.”
He bent over me and his hand came toward my face. I squeezed my eyes shut, flinching.
“This is the second time you thought I was going to hit you,” he said in a low voice.
My eyes flew open. “I thought you said…” I trailed off.
“What? That everyone expects you to have bruises on your face after a night with me? I don’t hit women.”
I remembered when he’d stopped my father from slapping me. He’d never raised his hand against me. I knew many men in the Chicago Outfit had a strange code of rules they followed. You couldn’t stab a man in the back, but you could cut his throat that way, for example. I wasn’t sure what made one better than the other. Luca seemed to have his own rules as well. Crushing someone’s throat with your bare hands was acceptable; hitting your wife was not.
“How am I supposed to believe you can convince everyone we’ve consummated our marriage when you keep flinching away from my touch?”
“Believe me, the flinching will make everyone believe the lie even more, because I definitely wouldn’t have stopped flinching away from your touch if you’d taken what’s yours. The more I flinch, the more they will take you for the monster you want them to think you are.”
Luca chuckled. “I think you might know more about playing the game of power than I expected.”
I shrugged. “My father is Consigliere.”
He tilted his head in acknowledgement, then he brought his hand up and cupped my face. “What I meant earlier was that your face doesn’t look like you’ve been kissed.”
My eyes widened. “I’ve never…” But of course he knew that already.
His lips collided with mine and my palms came up against his chest, but I didn’t push him away. His tongue teased my lips, demanding entrance. I gave in and hesitantly touched my tongue to his. I wasn’t sure what to do and looked at Luca wide-eyed, but he took the lead as his tongue and lips ravished my mouth. It was strange allowing that sort of intimacy, but it wasn’t unpleasant. I lost track of time as he kissed me, demanding and possessive, his hand warm against my cheek. His stubble rubbed against my lips and skin, but the friction made me tingle instead of bothering me. I could feel the restrained strength as his body pressed against me. Eventually he pulled back, eyes dark with desire. I shivered, not only from fear.
Insistent knocking sounded, and Luca swung his legs out of bed and stood. I sucked in a breath at the sight of the bulge in his briefs.
He smirked. “A man is supposed to have a boner when he wakes up beside his bride, don’t you think? They want a show, they’ll get a show.” He nodded toward the bathroom. “Now go and grab a bathrobe.”
I quickly leaped out of the bed with its stained bedsheet and hurried into the bathroom, where I grabbed the long white satin bathrobe and put it over my nightgown before I picked up the remnants of my corset that I’d dropped
last night.
When I stepped back into the bedroom, I watched Luca putting his gun and knife holster on over his naked chest, donning another knife strap with a longer hunting knife onto his forearm, covering the small cut, and repositioning his stiffness so it was even more obvious.
My cheeks hot, I moved further into the room and threw the corset down beside my ruined wedding dress. Luca was a magnificent sight with his tall frame, muscles and holster, not to mention the bulge in his pants. A hint of curiosity filled me. How did he look without the underwear?
I leaned against the wall beside the window and wrapped an arm around myself, suddenly worried that someone would realize Luca hadn’t slept with me. These were all married women. Would they see something wasn’t right?
I braced myself when he opened the door wide, standing before the gathered women in all his half-naked glory. There were gasps, giggles and even a few muttered Italian words, which might have been prayers or curses—they were spoken too fast and quiet for me to hear. I had to stifle a snort.
“We’ve come to collect the sheets,” Luca’s stepmother said in what was barely hidden glee.
Luca stepped back, opening the door wider. At once several women stepped in, their eyes darting to the bed and the stain, then to me. I knew my face was red, even though it wasn’t my blood on the sheets. How could these women jump at the chance to see proof of my taken virginity? Didn’t they have any compassion? Maybe they thought it was only fair I went through the same ordeal they had. I looked away, unable to bear their scrutiny. Let them make from that what they wanted. Most guests had left, especially politicians and other non-mafia folk; only the closest family was supposed to bear witness to the presentation of the sheets, but from the number of women gathered in the corridor and bedroom, you wouldn’t have known.
Only women of marriage age were allowed to be present when the sheets were taken down—so as not to frighten the pure virgin eyes of younger girls. I could see my aunts among the spectators, as well as my mother, Valentina and Bibiana, but the women from Luca’s family were in the front since it was their tradition, not ours. Now it is yours as well, I reminded myself with a twinge. Luca met my eyes briefly from across the room. We shared a secret now. I couldn’t help but feel grateful toward my husband, even though I didn’t want to be grateful for something like that. But in our world you had to be thankful for the smallest kindness, especially from a man like Luca, especially when he didn’t have to be kind.
Luca’s stepmother Nina and his cousin Cosima began stripping the bed. “Luca,” Nina said with feigned indignation. “Did nobody tell you to be gentle to your virgin bride?”
That actually got her a few embarrassed giggles and I lowered my eyes, even though I wanted to scowl at her. Luca did a fine job of that, then he flashed her a wolfish smile that raised the hairs on my neck. “You are married to my father. Does he strike you as a man who teaches his sons to be gentle to anyone?”
Her lips thinned but she didn’t stop smiling. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me and squirmed under the attention. When I risked a peek toward my family, I saw shock and pity on many of their faces.
“Let me through!” came Gianna’s panicked voice. My head shot up. She was fighting her way through the gathered women and avoided Mother, who tried to stop her. Gianna wasn’t even supposed to be here. But when did Gianna ever do what she was supposed to do? She shoved a very thin woman out of her way and staggered into the bedroom. Her face flashed with disgust when she spotted the sheets Luca’s stepmother was holding up and spreading over Cosima’s outstretched arms.
Her eyes found my face, lingering on my swollen lips, disheveled hair and my arms, which were still wrapped around my middle. I wished there was a way to let her know I was fine, that it wasn’t as it looked, but I couldn’t with all those women around us. She turned to Luca, who at least didn’t have a boner anymore. The look in her eyes would have sent most people running. Luca raised his eyebrows with a smirk.
She took a step in his direction. “Gianna,” I said quietly. “Will you help me get dressed?” I let my arms fall to my sides and walked toward the bathroom, trying to wince now and then as if I was sore and hoping I wasn’t overdoing it. I’d never seen a bride, or anyone else, after they’d supposedly lost their virginity.
The moment the door closed behind Gianna and me, she threw her arms around me. “I hate him. I hate them all. I want to kill him.”
“He didn’t do anything,” I murmured.
Gianna pulled back, and I put my finger to my lips. Confusion filled her face. “What do you mean?”
“He didn’t force me.”
“Just because you didn’t fight him doesn’t mean it wasn’t rape.”
I covered her mouth with my hand. “I’m still a virgin.”
Gianna stepped back so my hand dropped from her lips. “But the blood,” she whispered.
“He cut himself.”
She stared at me in disbelief. “Do you have Stockholm syndrome?”
I rolled my eyes. “Shh. I’m telling the truth.”
“Then why the show?”
“Because nobody can know. Nobody. Not even Mother or Lily. You can’t tell anyone, Gianna.”
Gianna frowned. “Why would he do that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he doesn’t like to hurt me.”
“That man would kill a baby fawn if it looked at him the wrong way.”
“You don’t know him.”
“Neither do you.” She shook her head. “Don’t tell me you trust him now. Just because he didn’t fuck you last night doesn’t mean he won’t do it soon. Maybe he prefers to do it in his penthouse with a view over New York. You are his wife, and any man with a working dick would want to get in your pants.”
“Father really wasted all of his lady comments on you,” I said with a smile. Gianna kept glaring. “Gianna, I knew when I married Luca that I would have to sleep with him eventually, and I accepted that. But I’m glad that I get the chance to at least get to know him a bit better first.” Though I wasn’t sure I’d like the parts of him I’d get to know. But his kisses hadn’t been unpleasant at all. My skin still warmed when I thought of it. And Luca definitely was nice to look at. Not that good looks could cancel out cruelty, but so far he hadn’t been cruel to me, and somehow I thought he wouldn’t be, at least not intentionally.
Gianna sighed. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” She sank down on the toilet lid. “I didn’t sleep all night from worrying about you. Couldn’t you have sent me a text saying Luca didn’t pop your cherry?”
I began undressing. “Sure. And then Father or Umberto would check your mobile and see it, and I’d be doomed.”
Gianna’s eyes scanned me from head to toe as I stepped into the shower, probably still looking for a sign that Luca had manhandled me.
“You still have to act as if you hate Luca when you see him later, or people will get suspicious,” I told her.
“Don’t worry. That won’t be a problem because I still hate him for taking you away from me, and for being him. I don’t believe for one second that he’s capable of kindness.”
“Luca can’t know I told you either.” I turned the shower on and let the hot water wash away the last hints of tiredness. I needed to be fully alert for the show in the dining room later. My tense muscles began relaxing as the stream of water massaged them.
“You can’t come in,” Gianna said angrily, startling me. “I don’t care that you are her husband.” I opened my eyes to see Luca pushing his way into the bathroom. Gianna stepped in his way. I quickly turned my back to them.
“I need to get ready,” Luca growled. “And there’s nothing here that I haven’t already seen.” Liar. “Now leave, or you’ll see your first cock, girl, because I’m going to undress now.” He took off his chest holster and wrist strap.
“You arrogant asshole, I—”
“Leave!” I shouted.
Gianna left, but not without calling Luca by a few choice words. T
he door banged shut and we were alone. I wasn’t sure what Luca was doing and I wouldn’t turn around to check. I couldn’t hear him from the splashing of the water. I knew I couldn’t stay in the shower forever, so I shut off the water and faced the room.
Luca was spreading shaving cream on his chin with a brush, but his eyes were watching me in the mirror. I resisted the urge to cover myself, even though I felt a blush spreading over my body. He set the brush down and reached for one of the plush bath towels hanging over the heated towel rack, then walked over to me, still in his briefs. I opened the shower and took the towel from him with a quick thanks. He didn’t move, eyes unfathomable as they roamed my body. I wrapped the towel around myself, then stepped out. Without high heels, the top of my head only reached Luca’s chest.
“I bet you’re already regretting your decision,” I said quietly. I didn’t need to explain; he knew what I meant.
Without a word, he returned to the wash table, picked up the brush and resumed what he’d been doing before. I was on my way into the bedroom, when his voice startled me. “No.” I glanced back and met his eyes. “When I claim your body, I want you writhing beneath me in pleasure and not fear.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
I was already dressed in an orange summer maxi dress and a golden belt to accentuate my waist when Luca stepped out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel. I sat on the chair in front of my vanity, putting on makeup, but froze with the mascara brush inches from my eye when I saw Luca. He walked toward the wardrobe and picked out black pants and a white shirt before he dropped his towel without shame. I didn’t look away fast enough and was rewarded with his firm backside. I lowered my eyes and busied myself with checking my nails until I dared to face the mirror again and put on mascara.
Luca buttoned his shirt, except for the upper two. He strapped a knife to his forearm and rolled the sleeve over it, then put a gun holster around his calf. I turned around. “Do you ever go anywhere without guns?” No chest holster this time because it couldn’t be hidden well with only a white shirt and it would have been bad taste to display weapons openly at a family gathering.
