Born in Blood Collection Volume 1: Collection of books 1-4

by Cora Reilly

  I twisted my wedding ring around my finger, avoiding his eyes. That was information I didn’t need to know.

  “You have nothing to worry about when it comes to Matteo. He’s used to coming over to my place whenever he wants, but things will change now that I’m married. Most of our business takes place somewhere else anyway.”

  The elevator beeped and came to a stop, then the doors slid apart. Luca gestured for me to step out first. I did and immediately found myself in a huge living space with sleek white sofas, dark hardwood floors, a modern glass and metal fireplace, black sideboards and tables, as well as avant-garde chandeliers. There was hardly any color at all, except for a few pieces of modern art on the walls and art pieces made from glass. But the entire wall facing the elevator was glass. The windows offered a view toward a terrace and roof garden, and beyond that skyscrapers and Central Park. The ceiling opened up above the main part of the living area, and a staircase led up to the second floor of the penthouse.

  I walked farther into the apartment and tilted my head up. Glass banisters allowed a clear view of the upper floor: a bright gallery with several doors branching off of it.

  An open kitchen took up the left side of the living area, and a massive black dining table marked the border between dining and living area. I could feel Luca’s eyes on me as I took everything in, approaching the windows and peering out. I’d never lived in an apartment; even a roof garden didn’t change the fact that it was a prison that rose high above the city streets.

  “Your things are in the bedroom upstairs. Marianna wasn’t sure if you wanted to put them away yourself, so she left them in your suitcases.”

  “Who’s Marianna?”

  Luca came up behind me. Our gazes met in the reflection in the window. “She’s my housekeeper. She’s here a couple of days per week.”

  I wondered if she was also his mistress. Some men in our world actually dared to insult their wives by bringing their whores into their own home. “How old is she?”

  Luca’s lips twitched. “Are you jealous?” He rested his hands on my hips and I tensed. He didn’t pull away, but I could see anger crossing his face. But I also noted that he didn’t answer my question.

  I stepped out of his hold and headed for a glass door leading out onto the roof garden. I turned to Luca. “Can I go outside?”

  His jaw was tight. He wasn’t stupid. He had noticed how quickly I’d shaken off his touch. “This is your home now too.”

  It didn’t feel that way. I wasn’t sure it ever would. I opened the door and stepped outside. It was windy, and distant honking carried up from the streets below. White lounge furniture took up the terrace, but beyond it a small well-kept garden stretched out toward a glass barrier. There was even a square in-ground Jacuzzi big enough for six people. Two sunchairs were set up beside it. I strode toward the edge of the garden and let my gaze wander over Central Park. It was a beautiful view.

  “You’re not thinking about jumping, are you?” Luca asked, gripping the banister beside me.

  I tilted my face up to him, trying to gauge if this was his attempt at humor. He looked serious. “Why would I kill myself?”

  “Some women in our world see it as their only way to gain freedom. This marriage is your prison.”

  I appraised the distance between the roof and the ground. Death was certain. But I’d never considered killing myself. Before doing that, I’d run. “I wouldn’t do that to my family. Lily, Fabi and Gianna would be heartbroken.”

  Luca nodded. I couldn’t read his expression and it was driving me crazy. “Let’s go back inside,” he said, putting a hand on my lower back and steering me into the apartment. He closed the door, then turned back to me. “I have a meeting in thirty minutes, but I’ll be back in a few hours. I want to take you to my favorite restaurant for dinner.”

  “Oh,” I said, surprised. “Like a date?”

  The corners of Luca’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t smile. “You could call it that. We haven’t been on a real date yet.” He wrapped an arm around my middle and pulled me against him. I froze, and the lightness disappeared from his eyes.

  “When will you stop being afraid of me?”

  “You don’t want me to be afraid of you?” I’d always thought it would make his life easier if I was terrified of him. Would make it easier to keep me in check.

  Luca’s dark brows drew together. “You are my wife. We’ll spend our lives together. I don’t want a cowering woman at my side.”

  That really surprised me. Mother loved Father, but she also feared him. “Are there people out there who don’t fear you?”

  “A few,” he said before lowering his head and pressing his lips against mine. He kissed me without hurry until I relaxed under his touch and parted my lips for him. I raised my arm and hesitantly touched the back of his neck, my fingers brushing his hair. My other hand pressed against his chest, enjoying the feel of his muscles. He pulled away.

  “I have half a mind to cancel this fucking meeting.” He rubbed his thumb over my lips. “But there’s still more than enough time for this later.” He glanced at his watch. “I really need to go now. Romero will be here when I’m gone. Take your time to look around and make yourself comfortable.” With that, he headed for the door and left.

  For a moment, I stared at the door, wondering if anyone would stop me if I walked out of this building. Instead I moved toward the staircase and walked up to the second floor. Only one of the white doors was ajar, and I pushed it open. The master bedroom opened up before me. As with the living area, an entire wall was made up of windows overlooking New York. The king-sized bed was facing them. I wondered how it would be to watch the sunrise from bed. The wall behind the bed was upholstered with black fabric. At the end of the room a doorway led into a walk-in closet, and to its right I could see a freestanding bathtub through the glass wall separating the bedroom from the bathroom.

  I walked toward it. Even from the bathtub you could watch the city. Despite the glass wall, the washbasins and the shower weren’t visible from the bedroom, and the toilet was in its own small room.

  “Aria?”

  I gasped. My heart pounded in my chest as I slowly followed the voice and found Romero on the gallery, carrying my bags. “I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said when he saw my face. I nodded. “Where do you want me to put your bags?”

  I’d forgotten Luca had dropped them on the sofa. “I don’t know. Maybe the walk-in closet?”

  He strode past me and set the bags down on a bench in the closet. My three suitcases as well as two moving boxes were beside it. “Do you know if I need to dress up for tonight? Luca said he wants to take me to his favorite restaurant, but he didn’t tell me if it has a dress code.”

  Romero smiled. “No. Definitely no dress code.”

  “Why? Is it a KFC?” I’d actually never eaten at a KFC. Father and Mother would have never taken us to a place like that. Gianna, Lily and I had once convinced Umberto to take us to a McDonalds, but that was the extent of my experience with fast-food joints.

  “Not really. I think Luca wants to surprise you.”

  I doubted that. “Maybe I should unpack then.” I gestured at my suitcases.

  Romero kept a careful distance from me. He was nice but professional. “Do you need help?”

  I really didn’t want Romero to touch my underwear. “No. I’d prefer to be alone.”

  Compassion filled Romero’s face before he turned and left. I waited until I was certain that he was back downstairs before I opened the first box. On top was a photo of me with Gianna, Lily and Fabi. I cried for the third time in less than twenty-four hours. I’d seen them only this morning, so how could I already feel so alone?

  * * *

  When Luca came home almost five hours later, I’d changed into a skirt and a flimsy, sleeveless blouse. Despite my best efforts, my eyes were still slightly red from crying. There was a limit to what makeup could do. Luca noticed immediately, his gaze lingering on my eyes, then
darting to the photo of my family on the nightstand.

  “I wasn’t sure which was your side. I can move it to the other nightstand if you want,” I said.

  “No, it’s okay.” Exhaustion was written plainly on his face.

  “Was the meeting okay?”

  Luca looked away. “Let’s not talk about it. I’m starving.” He held out his hand and I took it and followed him to the elevator. He was tense and barely said a word as we rode in his car. I wasn’t sure if he expected me to make conversation, and I was too emotionally drained to put up an effort.

  When we stopped at a red light, he glanced over. “You look great.”

  “Thanks.”

  He parked the car in a gated parking area where they stashed the cars on top of each other, then we headed down a street with small restaurants offering everything from Indian cuisine, to Lebanese and Sushi. He stopped at a Korean restaurant and held the door open for me. Stunned, I walked into the crowded, narrow dining room.

  Small tables were set closely together, and a bar at the front offered alcoholic beverages with labels I couldn’t even read. A waiter came up to us and upon spotting Luca, he led us toward the back of the restaurant and gave us the last available table. The people at the table beside ours stared at Luca with wide eyes, probably wondering how he’d fit. I took the seat on the bench running the entire length of the room, and Luca folded himself into the chair across from me. The man beside him shifted his chair to the side, so Luca would have more room. Did they know who he was or were they being polite?

  “You look surprised,” Luca said after the waiter had taken our drink orders and left us with the menu.

  “I didn’t think you’d go for Asian food, considering everything.” That was all I could say in a crowded restaurant, but Luca knew I was talking about the Taiwanese Triad.

  “This is the best Asian restaurant in town, and it doesn’t belong to an Asian chain.”

  I frowned. Was it under the protection of the Famiglia?

  “It’s independent.”

  “There are independent restaurants in New York?”

  The couple at the table beside us gave me a strange look. For them our conversation probably seemed more than a little weird.

  “A few, but we’re in negotiations right now.”

  I snorted.

  Luca pointed at my menu. “Do you need help?”

  “Yeah, I’ve never tried Korean.”

  “The marinated silk tofu and the bulgogi beef are delicious.”

  “You eat tofu?”

  Luca shrugged. “If it’s prepared like this, then yes.”

  I shook my head. This was surreal. “Just order what you think is best. I eat everything except for liver.”

  “I like women that eat more than salad.”

  The waiter returned and took our orders. I fumbled with the chopsticks, trying to figure out the best way to use them.

  “Have you never used sticks before?” Luca asked with a smirk. Was he mocking me?

  “My parents only took us to their favorite Italian restaurant, and I wasn’t really allowed to go anywhere alone.” Bitterness rang in my voice.

  “You can go anywhere you want now.”

  “Really? Alone?”

  Luca lowered his voice. “With Romero or me, or Cesare when Romero isn’t available.”

  Of course.

  “Here, let me show you.” He took his own chopsticks and held them up. I tried to imitate his grip and after a few tries, I managed to move the sticks without dropping them. When our food arrived, I realized that it was much harder to grab on to something with sticks.

  Luca watched with obvious amusement as I took three tries to bring a piece of tofu to my lips.

  “No wonder New York girls are so thin if they eat like this all the time.”

  “You are more beautiful than all of them,” he said. I scanned his face, trying to figure out if he was being truthful, but as usual his face was unreadable. I allowed myself to admire his eyes. They were unusual, with their darker ring around the gray. They weren’t exactly cold right now, but I remembered them being that way.

  Luca snatched a piece of marinated beef and held it out in front of me. My eyebrows shot up in surprise. Luca mirrored my expression, but his was more challenging. I leaned forward and closed my lips around the sticks, then pulled back, savoring the taste of the bulgogi beef. Luca’s eyes seemed to darken as he watched me.

  “Delicious,” I said. Luca picked up a piece of tofu next, and I took it eagerly. This was better than trying to wrangle the chopsticks into submission.

  I was grateful that Luca showed me this normal side of him. It gave me hope. Maybe that was his intention, but I didn’t care.

  * * *

  The relaxation I’d felt during dinner evaporated when Luca and I returned to our penthouse and stepped into the bedroom. I went into the bathroom and took my time getting ready before I returned.

  Luca’s eyes took in my long, dark satin nightgown. It reached my calves but had a slit that went up to my thighs. It was still much more modest than the horrible thing I’d worn on our wedding night. And yet I was sure there was desire in his eyes.

  Once he’d disappeared into the bathroom, I walked toward the window and busied myself watching the nighttime skyline. I was almost as nervous as last night. I knew I wasn’t ready for more than kissing. When I heard Luca come up beside me, I didn’t turn. His impressive stature was reflected in the windows. Like yesterday, he was only wearing briefs. I watched him reach out for me, and every muscle in my body tensed. If he noticed my reaction, he didn’t let it show. He trailed a knuckle down the length of my spine, sending a tingling sensation through my body. When I didn’t react he extended his hand, palm upward—an invitation, not a command, and yet I knew there was only one right answer.

  I faced him, but my eyes were drawn to the long scar on his palm. I ran my fingertips over it. “Is that from the blood oath?” I peered up into his unreadable face. I knew during the initiation ceremony, men had to let blood while reciting the words of the oath.

  “No. This is.” He turned his other hand, where a small scar marred his palm. “That,” he said with a nod toward the scar I was still touching. “…happened in a fight. I had to stave off a knife attack with my hand.”

  I wanted to ask him about the first time he killed a man, but he curled his fingers around my wrist and led me toward the bed. My throat became too tight for words when he sat on the mattress and pulled me between his legs. I tried to relax into his kiss, and when he made no move to take things further, I actually felt the tension slip away and began to enjoy his experienced mouth, but then he lay back and pulled me onto the bed with him.

  His kisses became more forceful, and I could feel his erection pressed up against my thigh. Still I didn’t pull back. I could do this. I knew it was coming. His hand cupped my breast and I stiffened despite my best intentions not to. He didn’t remove it, but didn’t move it either. His kisses made thinking difficult. Would it really be so bad to sleep with Luca? He drew back a couple of inches and trailed kisses toward my ear. “I’ve never wanted to fuck a woman as much as I want to fuck you right now.”

  I froze. His words made me feel cheap. He was my husband and he had a right to my body—if you asked anyone in our family, anyway—but I deserved better than that. I didn’t want to be fucked like he was used to doing with other women. I was his wife. I wanted more.

  I turned my head and pushed my palms against his chest. After a moment, he relented.

  “I don’t want this,” I said, not bothering to hide my aversion from him.

  I didn’t look at him, but I could practically feel his frustration. What did he think? That I would suddenly feel comfortable enough to sleep with him because he’d taken me out for dinner once? Was that how it worked with his other girls? For a long time he did nothing but stare at me, then he untangled himself from me.

  He shut off the light without a word and lay on his side of the bed.
I wished he’d at least hold me. This was my first night so far away from my family. It would have been nice if he’d comforted me, but I didn’t ask him to. Instead I pulled the covers up and closed my eyes.

  * * *

  When I woke the next morning, Luca was gone. There was no note, not even a text on my phone. He was really pissed. I shoved my blankets off. Bastard. He knew I didn’t know anyone in New York, and yet he didn’t care. I grabbed my laptop and opened my email account. Gianna had already sent me three new emails. The last one was almost threatening. I picked up the phone. Only hearing her voice was enough to make me feel better. I didn’t need Luca or anyone else, as long as I had Gianna.

  The scent of coffee and something sweeter eventually drew me out of the bedroom and downstairs. Pans were clanking in the kitchen and as I turned the corner, I found a small, plump woman who looked old enough to be my grandma at the stove, making pancakes. Her dark gray hair was secured with a hairnet. Romero was perched on a stool at the bar attached to the kitchen island, a cup of coffee in front of him. He turned when I approached, his eyes taking in my nightgown before jerking his head away. Really?

  The woman turned and smiled kindly. “You must be Aria. I’m Marianna.”

  I walked up to her to shake her hand but she pulled me into a hug, pressing me against her ample chest. “You are a beauty, bambina. No wonder Luca is smitten with you.”

  I swallowed a snide comment. “That smells delicious.”

  “Sit. Breakfast is ready in a couple of minutes. It’s enough for Romero and you.”

  I sat beside Romero on a stool. He was still pointedly looking the other direction. “What’s your problem? I’m not naked,” I said when I couldn’t take it anymore.

  Marianna laughed. “The boy is worried Luca finds out he ogled his girl.”

  I shook my head, annoyed. If Romero insisted on being a coward, he’d have to eat with closed eyes. I wasn’t putting a bathrobe on because I needed a bodyguard in my own home.

  * * *

  I was already dozing off when Luca came home that night. While he’d spent his day outside doing God knows what, I was a prisoner in this stupid penthouse. The only people who kept me company were Marianna and Romero, but she’d left after preparing dinner, and Romero wasn’t exactly the most communicative companion. I watched as Luca emerged from the bathroom, freshly showered. He barely acknowledged me. Did he think I cared? When he lay down beside me and extinguished the lights, I said into the darkness, “Can I walk through the city tomorrow?”