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

by Cora Reilly

  * * *

  In the evening, Matteo and Luca set up a barbecue on the patio. The weather was holding up and we could eat outside. Aria went inside to grab the salad she’d prepared while Matteo headed toward the wine cellar for something to drink. That left me alone with Luca who was manning the barbecue grill. I set the table, pretending he wasn’t there. Things between Luca and me were tense; they’d never been not tense, but they’d gotten worse since I’d accepted his offer months ago.

  I took a deep breath. This had to stop. Luca was not only Matteo’s brother, he was also Aria’s husband. We had to make a truce at some point. I put down the last plate, wiped my hands and then strode over to Luca who was turning the marinated lamb chops around on the grate. As if he could sense my attention, he glanced up. It was futile trying to read his expression. I bridged the remaining distance between us. Most of our interactions hadn’t exactly been civil. My go-to response to him was usually snarkiness, but I was doing my best to keep my expression open and as friendly as possible.

  Luca raised one dark eyebrow when I stopped beside him.

  Suddenly I felt ridiculously nervous. “I know you don’t like me,” I began. “But I think we should try to get along better for Aria and Matteo.”

  I managed not to squirm when he scrutinized me. What was he thinking?

  “I didn’t like you because I hated how you treated Matteo.”

  “Okay,” I said slowly, not sure where to go from there.

  “But I’m starting to change my mind.”

  “You are?”

  He turned another lamb chop. “I’m starting to think that maybe Matteo was right and you two aren’t the worst match.”

  “Thanks?” I said, unsure if it was meant in a positive way. “You are really bad with compliments.”

  “I’m not in the habit of handing them out. And don’t tell my brother I said he was right. He’s cocky enough.” His eyes went to something behind me and I turned and spotted Matteo heading in our direction, his arms loaded with several bottles of wine.

  “He is,” I agreed with a smile. Luca gave me what could be considered his version of a smile, and some kind of silent understanding passed between us.

  Matteo set the wine bottles down on the table before joining us and wrapping his arm around my waist. “What are you two gossiping about?”

  “You,” Luca and I said at the same time.

  “Is that so?” Matteo lifted one eyebrow.

  Aria came back from the kitchen, eyes darting between us. She pressed up against Luca with a confused look. “What’s going on?”

  “Your husband and my wife are discussing my many wonderful traits,” Matteo said.

  I nudged his side. “You are way too cocky.”

  Matteo kissed my ear. “Admit it, you love my cockiness.”

  “Done.”

  “Your declarations of love still make my knees go weak,” he joked.

  I stood on my tiptoes. “Your cockiness isn’t the only thing I love about you.” I let my eyes wander the length of him.

  “I need some bloody lamb to cancel out this disgusting display of sweetness,” Luca muttered, but I didn’t miss the tender look he’d given Aria when he thought no one was paying attention.

  Matteo swept me into his arms and kissed me. Luca grumbled something else but I didn’t listen. All that mattered was Matteo.

  BOUND BY TEMPTATION

  (Born in Blood Mafia Chronicles #4)

  PROLOGUE

  Liliana

  I knew it was wrong. If someone found out, if my father found out, he’d keep me locked up in Chicago. He wouldn’t even let me leave the house anymore. What I was doing was inappropriate and unladylike. People were still bad-mouthing Gianna after all that time. They’d jump at the chance to find a new victim, and what could be better than another Scuderi sister getting caught in the act?

  And deep down I knew I was exactly like Gianna when it came to resisting temptation. I simply couldn’t. Romero’s door wasn’t locked. I slipped into his bedroom on tiptoes, holding my breath. He wasn’t there but I could hear water running in the adjoining bathroom. I crept in that direction. The door was ajar and I peered through the gap.

  Romero was a creature of habit so I found him under the shower as expected, but from my vantage point I couldn’t see much. I edged the door open with my foot and slipped in.

  My breath caught at the sight of him. He had his back turned to me and it was a glorious view. The muscles in his shoulders and back flexed as he washed his brown hair. My eyes dipped lower to his perfectly shaped backside. I’d never seen a man like this, but I couldn’t imagine that anyone could compare to Romero. He was all muscle and tanned skin. Strong and tall.

  He began to turn. I should have left then, but I kept staring, fascinated by his body. Was he aroused? He tensed when he spotted me. His eyes captured my gaze before they slid over my nightgown and naked legs. And then I found an answer to my question. He hadn’t really been aroused before. Oh hell.

  My cheeks heated as I watched him grow harder under my unwavering attention. It was all I could do not to cross the distance between us and touch him.

  Romero slid the shower open with unhurried movements and wrapped a towel around his waist before he stepped out, all naked glory and dripping wet. The scent of his spicy shower gel, peppermint and sandalwood, wafted into my nose. Slowly he advanced on me, long legs sure of every step. “You know,” he said in a strangely rough voice. “If someone found us like this, they might get the wrong idea. An idea that could cost me my life, and you your reputation.”

  I still couldn’t move. I was stone, but my insides seemed to burn, to liquefy into red-hot lava. I couldn’t look away. I didn’t want to.

  My eyes lingered on the edge of the towel, on the fine line of dark hairs disappearing beneath it, on the delicious V of his hips. Without realizing what I was doing my hand moved, reaching for Romero’s chest, for the Famiglia tattoo over his heart, needing to feel his skin beneath my fingertips.

  Romero caught my wrist before I could touch him, his grip almost painful. My gaze shot up, half embarrassed and half surprised. What I saw on Romero’s face made me shiver.

  He leaned forward, coming closer and closer. My eyes fluttered shut but the kiss I wanted never came. Upon hearing the creak of the door, I peered up at Romero. He’d only opened the bathroom door wide. That’s why he’d moved closer, not to kiss me. Embarrassment washed over me. How could I have thought he was interested in me like that? He was a Made Man.

  “You need to leave,” he murmured as he straightened. His fingers were still curled around my wrist.

  “Then let me go.”

  He released me without hesitation and took a step back. I stayed where I was. I wanted to touch him, wanted him to touch me in turn. He cursed and then he was upon me, one hand cradling the back of my head, the other on my hip, the touch hot, warning and promise. I could almost taste his lips they were so close. His touch made me feel more alive than anything ever had.

  “Leave,” he rasped. “Leave before I break my oath.” It was half plea, half order.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Four years before:

  Liliana

  I still cringed when I remembered my first embarrassing attempt at flirting with Romero. Mother and my sister Aria had always warned me not to provoke men, and I’d never been as daring with anyone as I’d been with Romero. He’d seemed safe, like there was no way he could possibly hurt me no matter the provocation. I’d been young and stupid, only fourteen and already convinced I knew everything there was to know about men and love and everything else.

  It had been in the days leading up to Aria’s wedding to Luca and he’d sent Romero to protect my sister because he didn’t trust Father’s men to do a good enough job—which was ridiculous, considering that Umberto had guarded my sisters and me since our births. It was a big deal to choose a bodyguard for your future wife; only someone who was deserving of your absolute trust could be allo
wed that close, but that knowledge wasn’t even why I trusted Romero.

  Romero had looked terribly handsome in his white shirt, black slacks and vest that hid his gun holster as he stepped into the suite my sisters and I shared in the Mandarin Oriental Hotel. And for some reason, his brown eyes had looked kinder than what I was used to from men in our world. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from him. I wasn’t sure what I’d been thinking, or what I’d expected to achieve, but the moment Romero sat down, I’d sauntered over to him and settled in his lap. His body was muscled, strength hidden beneath a sophisticated exterior. He’d tensed under me, but something in his eyes had made me fall for him that day. Often in the past, when I’d flirted with my father’s soldiers, I’d seen in their eyes that they wouldn’t hesitate to have their way with me if it wasn’t for my father. But with Romero I knew I would never have to worry that he’d take more than what I was willing to give. His eyes filled with confusion and worry as I sat on his legs. He didn’t push me off, didn’t move at all. His fingers rested on the armrest. He was a man in control. He’d seemed like a good guy, like the guys I ever only got to admire from afar because you couldn’t find them in the mafia. Like a knight in shining armor, someone dreams of silly girls were made of—girls like me. Aria had lost it and sent me off, but before I’d left I’d risked one more look at the man that had captured my heart and would never let it go: Romero. Soldier of the New York Famiglia.

  * * *

  Only a few months later, I found out that Romero wasn’t whom I thought he was, who I wanted him to be and had made him out to be. That day still haunts me after all this time. It could have been the moment that my crush on Romero disappeared for good.

  My parents had taken Gianna, Fabiano, and me to New York with them to attend Salvatore Vitiello’s funeral, even though I didn’t know Luca and Matteo’s father. I’d been so very excited to see Aria again, but that trip turned into a nightmare, my first real taste of what it meant to be part of our world.

  After the Russians attacked the Vitiello mansion in the Hamptons, I was alone with my brother, Fabi, in a room where Romero had taken us after the Famiglia under Luca’s lead had come to our rescue. Someone had given my brother a tranquilizer because he’d completely lost it after he’d seen our bodyguard getting shot in the head. I was oddly calm, almost in a trance as I huddled beside him on the bed, staring at nothing and listening for noises. Every time someone walked past our room, I tensed, prepared for another attack, but then Gianna texted, asking me where I was. I’d never moved as fast in my life. It took me less than two seconds to jump off the bed, cross the room and rip the door open. Gianna stood in the corridor, her red hair all over the place. The moment I jumped into her arms, I felt better and safer. She winced because of the bruises the Russians had inflicted on her. Since Aria had moved, Gianna had taken over the role as substitute mother while our own mother was busy taking care of her social responsibilities and catering to Father’s every whim.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, my eyes darting left and right.

  “I want to have a look downstairs.”

  Panic overcame me. I didn’t want to be alone again and Fabi wasn’t going to wake for another couple of hours so, despite my fear of what we’d find on the first floor, I followed my sister downstairs. Most of the furniture in the living room was ruined from the fight with the Russians and blood covered almost every surface. I’d never been very queasy about blood, or anything really. Fabi had always come to me to show me his wounds, especially when there was pus because he hadn’t properly cleaned them. And even now, as we strolled past all the red on the white carpets and sofas, it wasn’t the blood that made my stomach turn. It was the memory of the events. I couldn’t even smell blood anymore because my nose was clogged from crying. I was glad when Gianna headed for another part of the house but then I heard the first scream from the basement. It was an agonized, high-pitched cry. It was a man, and I hadn’t thought it possible for a man to make that kind of sound. I would have turned on my heel and pretended there was nothing. Not Gianna though.

  She opened the steel door, which led to secret underground rooms. The staircase was dark but from somewhere in the depth of the basement light spilled out. I shivered. “You don’t want to go down there, right?” I whispered. I should have known the answer. This was Gianna. When had she ever done what was reasonable?

  “Yes, but you will stay on the stairs,” Gianna said before she started her descent. I hesitated only a second before I went after her. Nobody had ever said I was good at following orders. In that regard we were very much alike.

  Gianna glared. “Stay there. Promise me.”

  I wanted to argue, I wasn’t a little kid anymore, but then someone cried out in the room below, and the hairs on the back of my neck rose. “Okay. I promise,” I said quickly.

  Gianna turned and moved down the remaining steps. She froze when she reached the last step before she finally stepped into the basement. I could only see part of her back but from the way her muscles tensed I knew she was upset. There was a muffled cry and Gianna flinched. Despite the fear pounding in my temples, I crept downstairs. I needed to know what my sister saw. She wasn’t someone who freaked out easily.

  Even as I did I knew I’d regret it but I couldn’t resist. I was tired of being left out of everything, of always being too young, of being reminded every day that I needed protection from myself and everything around me.

  The moment my feet hit the basement floor, my eyes settled on the center of the room. At first, I couldn’t even comprehend what was going on. It was as if my brain was giving me a chance to leave and be none the wiser, but instead of rushing off, I stayed and stared. Kept staring as my mind went into overdrive, soaking in every detail, every gruesome detail before me. Details I still remembered vividly years later.

  There were two of the Russians who’d attacked us, tied to chairs, and then there was blood. Matteo and another man were beating and cutting them with gleaming knives, hurting them. My vision tunneled, and terror rose up my throat, and then my gaze settled on Romero and his kind brown eyes, which weren’t as kind as I remembered them. His hands, too, were covered in blood. The good guy and knight in shining armor I’d fantasized about? He wasn’t that guy. A scream ripped from my body, but I could only tell because of the pressure in my chest and throat. I didn’t hear anything beyond the rushing in my ears. Everyone stared at me like I was the crazy one. I wasn’t sure what happened after that. I remembered fragments. Hands grasping me, arms holding tight. Soothing words that did nothing. I remembered a warm chest against my back and the smell of blood. There was a brief burning pain when Matteo injected me with something before my world transformed into eerie calm. The terror was still there, but it was blanketed. My vision was blurry but I could make out Romero kneeling beside me. He picked me up and straightened with me in his arms. The forced calm won out and I relaxed against his chest. Right in front of my eyes a red blotch disfigured his white shirt. Blood from the men that had been tortured. Terror tried to rip through the medication, but it was futile and I gave up the fight. My eyes fluttered shut as I resigned myself to my fate.

  Romero

  As Made Men it was our task to keep those safe that we were sworn to protect: the weak, children, women. I, in particular, had devoted my life to this goal. Many tasks in my job involved hurting others, being brutal and cold, but keeping people safe always made me feel like there was more to me than the bad. Not that it mattered; if Luca asked me, I’d do every bad thing imaginable. It was easy to forget that despite our own ethics and morals and codes, we Made Men were what most people perceived as evil. I was reminded of our real nature, of my real nature when I heard Liliana’s scream. The screams of the Russians hadn’t moved me. I’d heard those, and worse, before. But that high-pitched, not-ending scream of a girl we were meant to protect was like a fucking stab in the gut.

  Her expression and eyes were the worst; they showed me exactly what I was. Maybe a good man would
have sworn to be better, but I was good at my job. Most days I enjoyed it. Even the terror-stricken face of Liliana didn’t make me want to be something other than a Made Man. Back then I hadn’t realized that this glimpse of brutality wasn’t even the worst way I would fuck up her life.

  Liliana didn’t stop screaming.

  “Romero!” Matteo snarled. “Take care of Liliana.”

  I headed toward her but her eyes didn’t even register me. Gianna made a move as if to step in my way but then she allowed me to pass.

  The steel door slammed at the top of the stairs, and Luca stormed in. “What the fuck is going on here?”

  I was right in front of Liliana but she hadn’t stopped screaming. “Calm down, Lily. Everything is okay,” I murmured. She didn’t seem to hear me.

  I reached for her, my fingers closing around her thin arm, but the touch sent her into flight mode. She jerked, tried to lash out but I slung my arms around her chest, trapping her arms at her side. Her back was heaving against my chest as she struggled against my hold.

  She screamed and kicked. For a girl her size she put up a hell of a fight.

  “Shut her up! Aria will hear,” Luca growled. He tried to catch her legs but she managed to kick his chin. He stumbled back, more from surprise than anything else.

  Fuck. I had fought men twice Liliana’s size, experienced fighters, but with them I had been ruthless, intend on killing, but with Liliana I had to make sure to subdue her without harming her. Luca faced the same problem. Aria would go off on him if he hurt her baby sister, and even though he was Capo, Aria held that kind of power over him.

  “Lily,” Gianna tried to calm her sister. “Lily, stop.”

  Tito made a move as if to help us but Matteo shoved him backwards. “No. Stay out of it.”