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

by Cora Reilly

  I entered the penthouse. Romero was there and practically sagged with relief. “She’s here,” he said into his phone, then nodded before ending the call.

  “Where’s Luca? Back with his whore?”

  Romero frowned. “Searching for you.”

  “I’m surprised he bothers. He could have sent you or one of his other lapdogs. After all, you do everything he says. Even cover for him while he’s out cheating on me.” Romero didn’t say anything. I wasn’t sure why I was lashing out at him.

  I walked away.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going to undress and shower. If you want to watch, be my guest.” Romero stopped, but his eyes followed me up the stairs. I slammed the bedroom door shut after me, then locked it before walking into the bathroom to take a shower. I turned the temperature as high as I could bear, but the water couldn’t wash away the images that had taken refuge in my brain. Luca buried in Grace. Her smile. The sound of his hips slamming against her ass. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was feeling. Disappointment. Jealousy? I hadn’t chosen Luca, but he was my husband. I wanted him to be faithful to me. I wanted him to want only me. I wanted to be enough.

  There was banging at the bedroom door when I got out of the shower. I wrapped a towel around myself and slowly walked out of the bathroom into the bedroom.

  “Aria, let me in!” There was anger in his voice. He was angry?

  I dropped the towel and slipped a silk nightgown over my body.

  “I’m going to kick in the door, if you don’t let me in.”

  I’d like to see you do it. Maybe you’ll dislocate a shoulder.

  “Aria, open the fucking door!”

  I was too tired to keep playing with him. I wanted this day to be over. I wanted sleep to magically take away my memory. I unlocked the door, then turned and walked back to the bed. The door flew open, banging against the wall, and Luca stormed in. He grasped my arm and fury burned through me. How dare he lay hands on me after gripping that whore’s ass with them?

  “Don’t touch me!” I shrieked, wrenching out of his grip. He was panting, eyes wild with emotion. His hair was a mess and his shirt wasn’t buttoned properly. Matteo stood in the doorway, Romero and Cesare a few steps behind.

  “Where have you been?” he said in a low voice. He reached for me again and I stumbled back. “No! Don’t ever touch me again. Not when you use those same hands to touch your whore.”

  His face became very still. “Out, everyone. Now.”

  Matteo turned, and he and the other two men disappeared from view.

  “Where have you been?”

  “I wasn’t cheating on you if that’s what you’re worried about. I would never do that. I think faithfulness is the most important thing in a marriage. So you can calm yourself now—my body is still only yours.” I practically spat the last few words. “I only walked around the city.”

  “You walked around New York at night alone?”

  I stared into his eyes, hoping he could see how much I hated him for what I’d seen, how much it hurt to know he respected me so little. “You have no right to be angry with me, Luca. Not after what I saw today. You cheated on me.”

  Luca snarled. “How can I be cheating when we don’t have a real marriage? I can’t even fuck my own wife. Do you think I’ll live like a monk until you decide you can stand my closeness?”

  That arrogant pig. He and my father had made sure I didn’t even talk to other men until my wedding to Luca. “God forbid. How dare I expect my husband to be faithful to me? How dare I hope for this small decency in a monster?”

  “I’m not a monster. I’ve treated you with respect.”

  “Respect?” My voice rose higher. “I caught you with another woman! Maybe I should go out, bring a random guy back with me and let him fuck me in front of your eyes. How would that make you feel?”

  Suddenly he flung me on the bed and was on top of me, my arms pinned above my head. Pushing through the choking fear, I said, “Do it. Take me, so I can really hate you.” His eyes were the most terrifying thing I’d ever seen.

  His nostrils flared. I turned my face away and closed my eyes. He was breathing harshly, his grip on my wrists too tight. My heart pounded against my ribcage as I lay unmoving beneath him. He shifted and pressed his face into my shoulder, releasing a harsh breath. “God, Aria.”

  I opened my eyes. He released my wrists but I kept my arms above my head. Slowly he raised his eyes. The anger was gone from his face. He reached for my cheek, but I turned away. “Don’t touch me with her on you.”

  He sat up. “I’m going to take a shower now, and we will both calm down, and then I want us to talk.”

  “What’s there left to talk about?”

  “Us. This marriage.”

  I lowered my arms. “You fucked a woman in front of my eyes today. Do you think there’s still a chance for this marriage?”

  “I didn’t want you to see that.”

  “Why? So you could cheat in peace and quiet behind my back?”

  He sighed, and began unbuttoning his shirt. “Let me take a shower. You were right. I shouldn’t disrespect you further by touching you like this.”

  I shrugged. Right now I didn’t think I’d ever want him to touch me again, no matter how many showers he took. He disappeared in the bathroom. The shower ran for a long time. I sat against the headboard, sheets pulled up to my hips, when Luca finally emerged. I averted my eyes when he dropped his towel and put on boxer shorts, then he slipped into bed beside me with his back against the headboard. He didn’t try to touch me. “Did you cry?” he asked in a puzzled voice.

  “Did you think I wouldn’t care?”

  “Many women in our world are glad when their husbands use whores or take on a mistress. As you said, there are few marriages based on love. If a woman can’t stand her husband’s touch, she won’t mind him having affairs to satisfy his needs.”

  I scoffed. “His needs.”

  “I’m not a good man, Aria. I never pretended otherwise. There are no good men in the mafia.”

  My eyes rested on the tattoo over his heart. “I know.” I swallowed. “But you made me think that I could trust you and that you wouldn’t hurt me.”

  “I never hurt you.”

  Did he really not get it? “It hurt seeing you with her.”

  His expression softened. “Aria, I didn’t get the feeling that you wanted to sleep with me. I thought you’d be glad if I didn’t touch you.”

  “When did I say that?”

  “When I told you I wanted you, you pulled back. You looked disgusted.”

  “We were kissing, and you said you wanted to fuck me more than any other women. Of course, I pulled back. I’m not some whore you can use when you feel like it. You are never home. How am I supposed to get to know you?” He looked frustrated. Mafia men seemed even more clueless than normal ones. “What did you think? I’ve never done anything. You are the only man I’ve kissed. You knew that when we married. You and my father made sure it was the case, and despite that you expect me to go from never having kissed a guy to spreading my legs for you. I wanted to take it slow. I wanted to get to know you so I could relax; I wanted to kiss you and do other things first before we slept together.”

  Realization finally settled on his features, then he smirked. “Other things? What kinds of other things?”

  I glared. I wasn’t in the mood for jokes. “This is useless.”

  “No, don’t.” He turned my face back to him, then dropped his hand. He’d learned his lesson. “I get it. For men the first time isn’t a big deal, or at least it wasn’t for the men I know.”

  “When was your first time?”

  “I was thirteen and my father thought it was time for me to become a real man, since I’d already been initiated. ‘You can’t be a virgin and a killer.’ That’s what he said.” Luca smiled coldly. “He paid two noble prostitutes to spend a weekend with me and teach me everything they knew.”

  “That’s
horrible.”

  “Yeah, I suppose it is,” Luca said quietly. “But I was a thirteen-year-old teenage boy who wanted to prove himself. I was the youngest member in the New York Famiglia. I didn’t want the older men to think of me as a boy. And I felt like a big deal when the weekend was over. I doubt the prostitutes were overly impressed with my performance, but they pretended that I was the best lover they’d ever had. My father probably paid them extra for it. It took me a bit to figure out that not all women like it if you come all over their face when they give you a blow job.”

  I wrinkled my nose and Luca let out a laugh. “Yeah,” he murmured, then reached for a strand of my hair and let it glide over his finger. I wasn’t sure why he always did that. “I was really worried tonight.”

  “Worried that I’d let someone have what’s yours.”

  “No,” he said firmly. “I knew, I know you are loyal. Things with the Bratva are escalating. If they got their hands on you…” He shook his head.

  “They didn’t.”

  “They won’t.”

  I shifted away from his hand that had moved on from my hair to my throat. I didn’t want his touch. He sighed. “You’re going to make this really difficult, aren’t you?”

  I stared.

  “I’m sorry for what you saw today.”

  “But not sorry for what you did.”

  He looked exasperated. “I rarely say I’m sorry. When I say it, I mean it.”

  “Maybe you should say it more often.”

  He took a deep breath. “There’s no way out of this marriage for you, nor for me. Do you really want to be miserable?”

  He was right. There was no way out. And even if there was, what would be the point? My father would marry me off to the next man. Maybe a man like Bibiana’s husband. And no matter how much I wanted to deny it, I could imagine developing feelings for the Luca I saw in the restaurant. It wouldn’t have hurt so much seeing him with that woman, if I didn’t. When he’d touched my hair or kissed me or wrapped his arms around me during the night, I’d felt myself wanting to fall in love with him. I wished I could hate him with all my heart. If Gianna had been in my stead, she would rather have gone through life hating her husband and being miserable than ever giving him and our father the satisfaction of coming to care for him. “No,” I said. “But I can’t pretend I never saw you with her.”

  “I don’t expect you to, but let’s just pretend our marriage begins today. A clean start.”

  “It’s not that easy. What about her? Tonight wasn’t the first time you were with her. Do you love her?” My voice trembled as I said it.

  Luca noticed, of course. He looked at me as if I was a puzzle he couldn’t figure out. “Love? No. I don’t have feelings for Grace.”

  “Then why do you keep seeing her? The truth.”

  “Because she knows how to suck a cock and because she’s a good fuck. Truthful enough?”

  I flushed. Luca brushed a finger over my cheek. “I love how you blush whenever I say something dirty. I can’t wait to see your blush when I do something dirty to you.”

  Why couldn’t he stop touching me? “If you really want to make this marriage work, if you ever want the chance to do something dirty to me, then you’ll have to stop seeing other women. Maybe other wives don’t care, but I won’t have you touching me as long as there is anyone else.”

  Luca nodded. “I promise. I’ll touch only you from now on.”

  I considered him. “Grace won’t like it.”

  “Who gives a fuck what she thinks?”

  “Won’t her father give you trouble?”

  “We pay for his campaigns, and he has a son following in his footsteps who needs our money soon as well. What does he care about a daughter who isn’t good for anything but shopping and eventually marrying a rich man?”

  The same could be said for me and every other woman in our world. Sons could follow in their father’s footsteps—they could become members of the mafia. I still remembered how much Father had celebrated when he’d found out his fourth child was finally a son.

  “She probably hoped you’d be that man.”

  “We don’t marry outsiders. Never. She knew that, and it wasn’t like she was the only woman I fucked.”

  I gave him a look. “You said it yourself. You have your needs. So how can you tell me you won’t cheat on me again soon if you get tired of waiting for me to sleep with you?”

  Luca tilted his head, eyes narrowed in thought. “Do you intend to make me wait long?”

  “I think we have very different concepts of the words ‘long wait.’”

  “I’m not a patient man. If long means a year…” He trailed off. I couldn’t believe him. I sent him a reproachful look.

  “What do you want me to say, Aria? I kill and blackmail and torture people. I’m the Boss of men who do the same when I order them to, and soon I’ll be the Capo dei Capi, the leader of the most powerful crime organization on the East Coast, and probably the US. You thought I’d take you against your will on our wedding night, and now you’re angry because I don’t want to wait months to sleep with you?”

  I closed my eyes. “I’m tired. It’s late.” It was so late it was actually early.

  “No,” Luca said, touching my waist. “I want to understand. I’m your husband. You aren’t like other girls who can choose the man they’re going to lose it to. Are you scared I’m going to be rough with you because of what you saw today? I won’t be. I told you I want you to writhe beneath me in pleasure, and while that probably won’t happen the first time I take you, I’ll make you come as often as you want with my tongue and my fingers until you can come when I’m inside you. I don’t mind going slow, but what do you want to wait for?”

  I watched him through half-lidded eyes. For something that will never happen: that you’ll want to make love to me and not take me like I’m your possession. Part of me didn’t want to settle for less; the other part knew I had to. Love is something girls hope for when they don’t know better, something women long for when they lie awake at night, and something they’ll only ever get from their children. Men don’t have time for such notions. That’s what my father always said. “I won’t make you wait for months,” I said instead of what I really wanted to say, and then I finally fell asleep.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Luca cancelled his plans for the next day and sent Matteo out to do whatever needed to be done. As a woman in our world, you quickly learned not to ask too many questions because the answers were rarely good.

  Luca got ready first and when I walked into the kitchen dressed and showered, he was staring into the fridge with a frown on his face. “Can you cook?”

  I snorted. “Don’t tell me you’ve never made breakfast for yourself?”

  “I usually grab something on my way to work, except on the days when Marianna is here and prepares something for me.” His eyes scanned my body. I’d chosen shorts, a tank top and sandals since it was supposed to get really hot today. “I love your legs.”

  I shook my head, then walked toward him to peek into the fridge. He didn’t step back and our arms brushed. This time I managed not to flinch. His touch wasn’t uncomfortable and when he didn’t startle me, I could actually imagine enjoying it.

  The fridge was well stocked. The problem was I’d never cooked either, but I wouldn’t mention that to Luca. I grabbed the egg carton and red peppers, and set them down on the kitchen counter. It couldn’t be that hard to prepare an omelet. I’d watched our cook a few times in the past.

  Luca leaned against the kitchen island and crossed his arms as I grabbed a pan from the cupboard and turned on the stove. I glanced over my shoulder at him. “Won’t you help me? You can chop the peppers. You know how to handle a knife from what I hear.”

  That made the corners of his lips twitch, but he pulled a knife out of the block and stepped up to my side. The top of my head came only up to his chest with my flat sandals. I had to admit I kind of liked it. I handed him the pepper and p
ointed toward a wooden cutting board, because I got the feeling Luca would have started chopping right on the expensive black granite countertops. We worked in silence but Luca kept sneaking glances at me. I put a bit of butter into the pan, then seasoned the beaten eggs. I wasn’t sure if I needed to add milk or cream, but decided against it. I poured the eggs into the sizzling pan.

  Luca pointed his knife at the chopped peppers. “What happens to these?”

  “Shit,” I whispered. The peppers should have gone in first.

  “Have you ever cooked?”

  I ignored him and chucked the peppers into the pan with the eggs. I’d turned the stove to maximum heat, and soon the hint of a burning smell reached my nose. I quickly grabbed a spatula and tried to flip the omelet over, but it stuck to the pan. Luca was watching me with a smirk.

  “Why don’t you make coffee for us?” I snapped as I scraped the half-burnt eggs from the bottom of the pan.

  When I thought the eggs were safe to eat, I spooned them onto two plates. They didn’t really look all that tasty. Luca’s brows rose when I put a plate down in front of him. He sank down on the barstool and I hopped onto the one beside him. I watched him as he picked up the fork and speared a piece of egg, then brought it to his lips. He swallowed, but it was obvious he wasn’t too impressed. I took a bite as well and almost spat it back out. The eggs were too dry and too salty. I dropped my fork and gulped down half of my coffee, not even caring that it was hot and black. “Oh my God, that’s disgusting.”

  There was a hint of amusement in Luca’s face. The more relaxed expression made him look so much more approachable. “Maybe we should go out for breakfast.”

  I glowered at my coffee. “How hard can it be to make an omelet?”

  Luca let out what might have been a laugh. Then his eyes flitted back down to my bare legs, which were almost touching his. He put his hand down on my knee, and I froze with my cup against my lips. He didn’t do anything, just lightly traced his thumb back and forth over my skin. “What would you like to do today?”