by Cora Reilly
Luca ignored my warning tone. “To be honest I’m surprised you lasted this long with her. If I spend more than ten minutes in a room with Gianna, I want to seal my ears with hot wax.”
“I’m not tired of her. I actually like Gianna’s obnoxious personality. She spices things up. Life would be boring if she were like the other trophy wives.”
Luca narrowed his eyes. “Aria isn’t just a trophy wife.”
Of course he was allowed to get angry when I even remotely insulted Aria but he could talk shit about Gianna all the time. “I didn’t say anything about Aria. But I prefer my women…”
“Annoying and foulmouthed,” Luca finished for me, before he took the whiskey bottle out of my hand. “Then what’s the problem? Why are you sulking like a whiny bitch?”
I was waiting for one of my usual clever comebacks to pop into my mind, but I drew a fucking blank. That was serious bullshit. “I’m starting to think that Gianna might always hate me. I thought it was her way to be interesting and a challenge, a sort of game at the end of which she’d come to her fucking senses and fall for me like all the girls I’ve pursued before her, but I’m pretty sure Gianna is a challenge I’m losing. She won’t come around. I think she hates this life a bit more every fucking day.”
Luca scanned my face. “This is really bothering you.”
He said it as if that was the biggest fucking surprise of his life, as if I was a fucking robot that wasn’t capable of emotions. “That coming from you,” I said with a smirk. “Before Aria I wasn’t even sure you were capable of liking anyone, least of all a woman.”
“You make it sound like I’m a fag. It’s not that I didn’t like women. They were just not something I considered useful outside of the bedroom.”
I shook my head. “How the hell did you get Aria to love you? It’s like the fucking eighth Wonder of the World. Are there any new drugs you’re not telling me about?”
“You’re wasted, Matteo.”
“I’m not. If you’d stop hogging the fucking whiskey, I might get the chance to be in a couple of hours.” I ripped the bottle from his hand and took a swig. “Gianna is like a tiger in the fucking zoo, caged in. It’s fucking depressing to watch her look for a way to escape captivity.”
“Did she try to run again?”
“How could she? I’m keeping her on a tight leash.”
“You’re not thinking about letting her go, are you?”
I didn’t think I could, and I didn’t want to. I was selfish and that wouldn’t change any time soon. I still wanted Gianna. I wanted her gorgeous body in my bed every night, and my cock in her tight pussy. I wanted everything from her, most of all the things she was refusing to give me. “Would you let me?”
“No. The Familia is already displeased as it is. You’d look even weaker if you’d let her run away again. I really don’t need the additional trouble. Not to mention the fucking Outfit would probably declare fucking war on us if we managed to lose Gianna again. Her father is being a real pain in the ass.” He gave me his Capo look, which was meant to intimidate the rest of the world, but was useless on me as he fucking well knew. “You won’t let her get away. You’re stuck with her until the bitter end, and she with you. I don’t care if she’s fucking unhappy and if she hates you, she’ll just have to deal.”
“Wow, you’re full of sunshine and rainbows today, aren’t you?” I knew he was right, and really it wasn’t like I’d tell Gianna she could go but somehow his words managed to piss me off anyway. “You realize the only thing stopping Gianna from slicing my throat at night is that she can’t see blood. Do you know how reassuring it is to fall asleep beside someone who’s probably fantasizing to see you dead so she can be free.” She’d never said it in so many words but sometimes I thought I saw it in her eyes. Or maybe I was so fucking messed up that I was always thinking the worst of others.
“I hope you’re joking,” Luca said dryly.
“Who knows?” I emptied the whiskey bottle. I could feel the first treacherous signs of a nice buzz. I grinned. “Sometimes she’d definitely trying to kill me with her eyes.”
“Maybe then you shouldn’t sleep in a room with her. She might get over her fear of blood at some point.”
“Nah. Not anytime soon. And she isn’t the violent type, not really.”
“I wouldn’t count on that. She can be really unhinged.”
“You weren’t worried about sleeping beside Aria when she still despised you so why should I?”
“You can’t compare Aria to Gianna. They are like two different species. And I trust Aria absolutely. She caught a fucking bullet for me.”
“Must be nice,” I muttered. “Gianna would probably applaud my shooter.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Gianna
Matteo was in a strange mood, had been ever since he’d found me in the living room two nights ago. He hadn’t said much, which was unusual for him. I wasn’t sure if he was angry at something I’d done, and I didn’t really care. That night I’d promised myself that I’d have to stop whatever was going on between him and me. I’d sworn to myself that I’d never become one of those women, that I’d never marry a Made Men, and much less develop feelings for him.
Christmas was only five days away but we both definitely hadn’t caught the holiday spirit yet. There wasn’t a single piece of Christmas decoration in our apartment. I’d considered asking Matteo to buy a tree and decorate it together, but then the panic had set in again and I hadn’t said anything. Instead I’d accepted the strange mood between us almost with relief.
Matteo was gripping the steering wheel in a steel grip as we drove away from the last Christmas party of the season. The hosts had rented a deserted warehouse and turned into a winter wonderland with fake snow and a real ice bar. Aria and Luca were still there but Matteo’s bad temper had caused Luca to send us away early. He’d probably worried that Matteo would end up killing someone again. I couldn’t blame him.
The road was covered with a fine sheen of frost which glittered in the glare of our spotlights.
“You know what’s funny?” Matteo asked in a tight voice.
I glanced toward him, his tense body and dark expression.
“Whenever you think I’m not watching, you look like you might be happy and then the moment our eyes meet, it’s like ‘poof’ and the happiness is gone.”
I wasn’t sure what to tell him.
“Why do you insist on being miserable?”
Before I could formulate an answer, Matteo suddenly floored the gas. I was pressed into the seat. “What are you doing? You don’t have to kill us because you’re pissed.”
Matteo peered into the side mirror. “I’m not trying to kill us. I’m trying to save our lives.”
Something collided with our trunk. I glanced over my shoulder. Flashlights of another SUV filled the rear window.
“Who are they?” I asked.
“Russians would be my guess. I noticed them too late. Fuck. This happens when I get distracted by other shit.”
We were the only cars in this part of the industrial area. Matteo twisted the steering wheel and we shot around a corner into a narrow street between two high storehouses.
“Head down,” Matteo barked.
I obeyed at once. Struggling against my seat belt, I leaned forward. A second later, our pursuers shot at us. The rear window exploded and shards rained down on us. Matteo didn’t react, he kept driving like a madman. He’d somehow even managed to pull his own gun.
I clutched the seat, my head pressed against my legs as I jerked back and forth with every twist and turn of the car. The tires were screeching, gunshots whistling through the air, glass bursting. A new shower of shards rained down on me as the side window in the back exploded as well.
“Fuck,” Matteo snarled while he tried to get a connection with his phone, probably to call Luca. Fear was clogging my throat tightly. Fear for my own life was only a small part of it. Seeing Matteo in clear line of fire terrified me even m
ore. He couldn’t duck his head. One bullet and everything could be over.
We turned another corner and I slammed against the door. I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting my rising sickness.
More shots rang out and Matteo let out a hiss. I peered to the side. Matteo was still driving and shooting at our pursuers, but he was bleeding from wounds in his arm and shoulder. That moment another bullet grazed his head, blood spurting everywhere, even on my face. Matteo didn’t even seem to care; he fired another round of shots. Suddenly we were spinning, the car out of control. I wrapped my arms around my chest as I was thrown around in my seat. Through half closed eyes I saw our car shooting toward a massive wall and then there was an earsplitting crash as we smashed into it. My body jerked forward, the air rushing out of me as I was flung against the safety belt. It cut into my collarbone, and my vision turned black. Then something soft exploded in my face, stopping my impact.
I didn’t know how long I hung limply in my seat belt, my face buried in the deflating airbag as I tried to catch my breath. My ears were ringing but eventually that faded and silence greeted me. With a groan I sat up, ignoring my throbbing headache. Smoke was rising from our crushed hood, slowly filling the car through the broken windows. I blinked to get rid of the dots dancing in and out of my vision. My entire body was sore but nothing seemed to be broken. At least I could move.
I turned to the driver’s side and stilled. It was dark in the car. Our lights were smashed but from somewhere a distant glow illuminated what was around me. Matteo was slumped over the steering wheel. Like many mafia cars, the driver didn’t have an airbag because it was a bother during car chases. Blood plastered his dark hair to his forehead, soaked his shirt and dripped down on his pants. So much blood. He must have hit his head against the steering wheel or maybe the dashboard when we’d collided with the wall.
Was he dead?
He wasn’t moving, and I couldn’t see if he was breathing. I held my breath, listening for a sound. There was nothing. I blinked, then peered over my shoulder to see where our pursuers were. Their car had smashed into another building and had already caught fire. They were definitely dead. Was our car going to start burning too? I needed to get out.
Wasn’t this the chance I’d been waiting for? Matteo and I were alone. Nobody was here to stop me from running. I could leave and be free. I unbuckled myself, then glanced at Matteo again. I needed to check if he was dead, but somehow I couldn’t. What if he was really gone? What if he was dead? My throat felt tight and raw. My lungs refused their work as panic settled in my body. God, what if he was dead? What was wrong with me? Hadn’t I wanted him out of my life six months ago? This was my chance, probably the only chance I’d ever get. The smell of gas drifted into my nose, and the smoke inside the car was starting to burn in my eyes. Matteo was a killer. He wasn’t a good man. If you asked most people, they’d say he deserved death.
With shaky fingers I reached out and touched Matteo’s shoulder. He still felt warm but that didn’t mean he was alive. Slowly I inched my hand up until I brushed his blood-slick throat. My fingers ghosted over his skin, finding nothing, pressing and searching, until finally a soft pulse beat against my fingertips.
I exhaled, relief slamming into me like a hammer. Still alive. He was still alive. Thank God. With a sizzle and a pop fire shot out under the hood of the car. I gripped the door handle and pushed but it didn’t budge, distorted from the crash. Panic spread in my chest as smoke and heat filled up the car, and I started clawing at the door. I shifted, tugged my sleeve down my hand and roughly cleaned the window frame from broken remains before I climbed out of the car head first. When I finally felt solid ground under my feet, I almost dropped to my knees because my legs were shaking like crazy. The entire hood was burning now and Matteo was still in the driver’s seat. I rushed around the car, toward his door, praying that it wasn’t stuck like mine. I didn’t think I could drag Matteo through a narrow window without his help. I gripped the car door and tugged as hard as I could. With a screech it flew open and I landed on my butt. I caught my breath, then stumbled to my feet and grabbed Matteo’s arm. He hadn’t been wearing a seat belt so I could pull him out of the car without trouble. He plopped down on the asphalt a bit too hard and I winced, then quickly hooked my hand under his armpits and pulled him away from the car that was catching fire way too quickly.
Matteo was heavy and dragging him away from the car with my aching body hurt like hell, but I didn’t stop until I was sure he was a safe distance away in case of an explosion. I let go of him before I straightened and wiped the blood from my palms on my pants. Matteo’s eyes were closed, his face turned to the side, showing his striking profile. Strands of hair stuck to his bloody forehead and a puddle of red was quickly spreading around his head, trickling from his head wound. I could see his chest rising and falling. My eyes searched our surroundings. The car of the Russians was already a flaming mess, dark plummets of smoke rising into the sky. We were in the middle of nowhere, an abandoned industrial area nobody set foot in without reason. But the smoke would certainly attract attention. Somebody would find Matteo before it was too late.
Right?
I should run. I should want to run. I started backing away from Matteo’s unmoving form on the ground, ignoring the way guilt corded up my throat. He’d forced me into a marriage I’d never wanted. He knew I would use the first chance I got to escape. I took another step back. Matteo had chosen a path of danger and death. Even if he died today, it was what he’d chosen for himself.
This wasn’t the life I wanted.
I turned around, then paused. I closed my eyes. Distantly flames crackled. Someone would find Matteo in time. And even if they didn’t, I shouldn’t care.
I didn’t care about him. I didn’t. And I definitely shouldn’t.
I should hate him. I should hate what he was and what it meant for me. I should that he couldn’t give me up no matter how often I pushed him away. Why couldn’t he give up?
I started walking away, one small step after the other. Once I was out of town, I would call Aria and ask her about Matteo.
It will be too late for him then.
Maybe.
Or maybe not.
Matteo was tough. A head wound wouldn’t kill him.
I chanced a look over my shoulder, my eyes finding Matteo’s unmoving body, sprawled out on the concrete. Behind him the cars were burning, tingeing the illuminated city sky black with their smoke.
Funeral black.
The pool of blood around Matteo’s head looked black from my vantage point, and it had grown even more. “I don’t want to love you,” I whispered as I jerked to a halt, clenching my eyes shut. But I did. I did love Matteo.
My eyes flew open, I whirled around and begun walking back, then started running, getting faster and faster, until I was racing. I dropped to my knees beside Matteo, fumbling in my pockets for my phone but coming up empty. It was in my bag. My gaze went to the burning car where I’d left my stuff. Stupid Gianna.
I reached into Matteo’s pocket and exhaled a shuddering breath when I grabbed his phone. Not wasting time scrolling through his contact I hit speed dial.
“I’m not in the mood to talk to you, Matteo. You acted like a major asshole tonight,” Luca’s sharp voice rang in my ear.
I let out a sob.
“Gianna?” I could hear Aria in the background but couldn’t hear what she was saying.
“He’s dying,” I said after a moment, sound flat and voiceless.
“What are you talking about? Give me Matteo.”
“I can’t. Russians attacked us. There’s so much blood, Luca, so much blood.”
“Is Matteo alive?” For the first time since Aria almost died, Luca sounded worried.
My eyes darted to the body beside me. To my husband.
Was it my imagination or had Matteo’s chest stopped moving? I pressed my palm against his blood-soaked shirt. There was nothing. “He’s not breathing. He was a moment ago, but he’s not
anymore.” Hysteria found its way into my voice.
“Gianna, you have to do CPR. I’ll be there soon. I have your GPS coordinates. But you’ll have to get him breathing or it’ll be too late.”
I didn’t say anything, only stared at the man I loved. I’d wanted to hate him, had given it my all, and in the beginning there had been hate, so much of it, but not all of it had been directed at Matteo, and now hardly any seemed left, and it felt ridiculous to hold onto what little I still harbored.
“Gianna?” Luca’s voice sliced right through me. I could hear commotion in the background, the sound of a car springing to life. I put Luca on loudspeaker and cupped Matteo’s face, then pressed my lips against his and blew air into his lungs. I tried to remember how often to press as I rested my hands against his ribcage. I didn’t know the first thing about CPR except for what I’d seen on TV. Why had I never paid better attention? What if Matteo died because I was doing something wrong?
Luca’s next words tore through my thoughts. I’d forgotten he was on the phone. “I know you feel like Matteo trapped you, that he ruined your life, but no matter what you think, he didn’t do it to make you miserable. For some unexplainable reason Matteo loves you. You don’t have to believe me. You can keep hating him but don’t leave him alone, not now. If you help me save his life, I’ll grant you freedom. I swear it on my honor and my life. Aria is here. She’s witness. You will get money, a new identity and even protection from the Outfit if you want. It’s all yours if you save his life.
“Okay,” I said as I pressed down on Matteo’s chest again. I wasn’t even sure why I said it.
“You have to do chest compressions. Hard and fast. Don’t worry about breaking his ribs. 30 pushes, two breathes. Fast.”
I sped up my compressions, then bent over Matteo to breathe into his mouth twice. “He’s not reacting!” I gasped as I started everything from the beginning.
“Keep doing it.”
And I did, even as my fingers cramped. They were red and sticky with blood. I couldn’t even see through my eyes anymore. They were blurry with tears. Why couldn’t I stop crying? I cried over a man like Matteo but had hardly shed a tear over Sid.
