by Cora Reilly
“No. My father did,” she said in that soft, genteel voice.
Of course he did. I could see her shivering from cold and fear. I decided to cut this ridiculous meeting short before Aria passed out on me, and I reached for the ring I’d bought for her a couple of days ago. My little fiancée flinched, and my mood dropped even further. I showed her the velvet box, hoping it would set her at ease, but she only stared. I wanted to shake some sense into her but that would only have proven her fears right. I shoved the box at her and she finally reached for it. When her fingers brushed mine, she pulled away with a gasp. I had to stifle my annoyance—not at her, but at her parents, Cavallaro, and my father who’d brought this mess down upon us. She was too young. I could only hope she’d gain some confidence in the next three years. I didn’t want a wife who cowered in front of me.
“Thank you,” she said after she’d checked out the ring. Her eyes met mine. I held out my arm. She took it with barely any hesitation and I led her toward the living room to the people who’d betrayed her.
The moment I released her, she rushed off to her sisters and mother as if they could protect her from what was to come.
I went over to the men.
“And?” Father asked smugly.
I wasn’t sure what he expected. A lewd comment about how I’d used my chance alone with Aria?
Matteo shot me a sideways glance.
“Aria accepted the ring,” I said matter-of-factly.
Scuderi’s face fell. “As she should. My daughter was brought up to be obedient. You’ll see.”
“Luca will make her obey him. He can bring the strongest men to their knees. A weak woman will bow to his will,” Father said snidely.
Dinner was served that moment and saved us from a fight. It was a pity. I would have enjoyed it thoroughly.
I sat down beside Scuderi as tradition dictated. Matteo sat across from me, a flicker of boredom on his face. A bored Matteo was always a ticking bomb.
Fiore Cavallaro raised his glass. The way his eyes went out of focus, I’d say he should stop drinking. Old bastard. I would have preferred dealing with his son, the cold fish Dante, but as long as his father was still in command, I’d have to live with the demented old fool. “To a long and successful partnership.”
I lifted my glass and downed the red wine. My eyes found Aria again. She was sitting at the other end of the table with the other women. She peered down at her ring as if it were something terrifying. Of course, it was. It bound her to me. It marked her as mine. When she looked up, our eyes met. She flushed and quickly turned away, red traveling up her delicate throat.
Matteo kicked me under the table, smirking. “Already lusting after your child bride?”
“I can wait,” I said. “It’s not like I can’t keep myself entertained.” But from this day, she was mine.
After dinner, we moved to the lounge to drink and smoke. Rocco Scuderi and Fiore Cavallaro were insufferable show-offs, and Father tried to overshadow them with his own bragging. I wanted to stuff my ears with hot wax to be spared their bullshit talk. Aria better be worth it, because peace sounded less enticing with every fucking second I had to spend with the Outfit bastards.
I was on my fourth glass of scotch when everyone had finally left the lounge except for Matteo, Romero and Cesare. Father had left to meet with a high class prostitute from the Outfit’s best whorehouse, but I had no intention of risking a repeat performance of the Bratva whore incident.
I allowed myself to relax against the marble ledge of the fireplace. My eyes were heavy from being alert all day, and I couldn’t risk letting my guard down as long as we were in Chicago. Matteo was sprawled out on an armchair as if he owned the place. His grin didn’t bode well.
“It could have been worse,” Matteo said, grinning even wider. “She could have been ugly. But, holy fuck, your little fiancée is an apparition. That dress. That body. That hair and face.” Matteo whistled.
Anger surged through me. Matteo and I often talked about women like that, and even with less favorable words, but this was different.
“She’s a child,” I said dismissively, hiding my annoyance. Matteo would only irk me further if I gave him an opening.
“She didn’t look like a child to me,” he said, then clucked his tongue. He nudged Cesare. “What do you say? Is Luca blind?”
Cesare shrugged with a careful glance in my direction. “I didn’t look at her closely.”
“What about you, Romero? You got functioning eyes in your head?”
Romero looked up, then quickly looked back down to his drink. I stifled a smirk.
Matteo threw his head back and laughed. “Fuck, Luca, did you tell your men you’d cut their dicks off if they looked at that girl? You aren’t even married to her.”
“She’s mine,” I said quietly. I glared at Matteo. My men respected me, but Matteo was a losing battle. Not that I had to worry. He’d never lay hand on my woman.
Matteo shook his head. “For the next three years, you’ll be in New York and she will be here. You can’t always keep an eye on her, or do you intend to threaten every man in the Outfit? You can’t cut off all of their dicks. Maybe Scuderi knows of a few eunuchs who can keep watch over her.”
“I’ll do what I have to,” I said, swirling the drink in my glass. I had considered what Matteo had said before, and it didn’t sit well with me. I didn’t like the idea of being so far from Aria. Three years were a long time. She was beautiful and vulnerable, a dangerous combination in our world.
“Cesare, find the two idiots who are supposed to guard Aria,” I ordered.
Cesare left immediately and returned ten minutes later with Umberto and Raffaele. Scuderi was a step behind them, looking pissed.
“What’s the meaning of this?” he asked.
“I want to have a word with the men you chose to protect what’s mine.”
“They are good soldiers, both of them. Raffaele is Aria’s cousin, and Umberto has worked for me for almost two decades.”
I mustered them both. “I’d like to decide for myself if I trust them.” I stepped up to Umberto. He was almost a head smaller than me. “I hear you’re good with the knife.”
“The best,” Scuderi interjected. I wanted to silence him once and for all.
“Not as good as your brother, as rumor has it,” Umberto said with a nod toward Matteo, who flashed him his shark grin. “But better than any other man in our territory,” Umberto admitted eventually.
Matteo was the best with a knife. “Are you married?” I asked next. Not that marriage had ever stopped a man from having another woman.
Umberto nodded. “For twenty-one years.”
“That’s a long time,” Matteo said. “Aria must look awfully delicious in comparison to your old wife.”
I shot Matteo a look. Couldn’t he keep his mouth shut for a second?
Umberto’s hand twitched an inch toward the holster around his waist. My own hand was already resting on my gun. I met Umberto’s gaze. He cleared his throat. “I’ve known Aria since her birth. She is a child.”
He said it with a hint of reproach. If he thought that would make me feel guilty or anything close to it, he was a fool. “She won’t be a child for much longer,” I said.
“She will always be a child in my eyes. And I’m faithful to my wife.” Umberto glared at Matteo. “If you insult my wife again, I’ll ask your father for permission to challenge you in a knife fight to defend her honor, and I’ll kill you.”
That would make Matteo’s day. There was nothing he enjoyed more than a bloody knife fight, probably not even a pussy. “You could try,” Matteo said, baring his teeth, “but you would not succeed.”
Umberto wasn’t a threat. Neither for Matteo, nor for Aria. I could tell he was protective of her in a fatherly way. “I think you’re a good choice, Umberto.”
I turned to Raffaele. If we’d been in New York, I’d have already put a bullet in his head. Perhaps he thought I hadn’t seen the looks he’d giv
en Aria when he thought nobody was paying attention. I stepped right in front of him. He craned his neck to meet my gaze. He tried to look cool. He wasn’t fooling me. There was fear. Good.
“He’s family. Are you honestly going to accuse him of having an interest in my daughter?” Scuderi butted in from the side.
“I saw how you looked at Aria,” I said to Raffaele. His eyes flickered nervously.
“Like a juicy peach you wanted to pluck,” Matteo threw in, enjoying this entirely too much.
Raffaele’s eyes darted to Scuderi like the spineless wimp he was. I knew guys like him. They got off on preying on the weak, especially women, because it was the only way they could feel strong.
“Don’t deny it. I know want when I see it. And you want Aria,” I growled. Raffaele didn’t deny it. “If I find out you’re looking at her like that again…If I find out you’re in a room alone with her…If I find out you touch as much as her hand, I will kill you.”
Raffaele flushed red. “You aren’t a member of the Outfit. Nobody would tell you anything even if I raped her. I could break her in for you. Maybe I’ll even film it for you.”
I grabbed the bastard and threw him to the ground. His face hit the floor hard and I dug my knee into his back. I wanted to break his spine in two and rip off his fucking balls. Then he’d never even think about using the words ‘rape’ and ‘Aria’ in the same sentence again.
Raffaele struggled and cursed. He was like a bothersome fly: weak and disgusting. Worth less than the dirt on my shoes. That he even dared think about touching Aria, about breaking her in…I grabbed his wrist and pulled out my knife.
I should cut off his balls and dick. That was what he deserved. But this wasn’t my territory. Even though it pissed me off, I looked at Scuderi for permission.
Scuderi nodded. I brought my knife down on Raffaele’s pinky, cutting through bone and flesh and relishing in his pussy screams.
A female cry echoed through the walls.
I let go of Raffaele and stood. He cradled his hand like a baby, a blubbering mess. Disgusting. Romero and Cesare had drawn their weapons.
Scuderi went to open a secret door, revealing the redheaded sister and Aria.
“Of course,” Scuderi hissed. “I should have known it was you causing trouble again.” He wrenched the redhead away from Aria and into the lounge, raised his hand, and slapped her hard across the face. My fingers on the knife tightened.
And then the fucker stepped toward Aria, raising his arm again. Fury burned through me. Mine.
I caught his wrist, stopping him. It took all my willpower not to ram the bloody knife into his stomach and let him bleed out like a pig.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Umberto drawing his knife and Scuderi reaching for his gun. Matteo, Romero, and Cesare had drawn their own guns.
I hated the words I had to speak next. “I didn’t mean disrespect, but Aria is no longer your responsibility. You lost your right to punish her when you made her my fiancée. She’s mine to deal with now.”
Scuderi glanced at the ring on Aria’s finger, marking her as mine. He gave a nod and I released him.
“That’s true.” He stepped back from me and gestured at Aria. “Then would you like the honor of beating some sense into her?”
I turned my eyes on Aria. She was pale. Her fearful eyes darted to the knife in my blood-covered hand, then back up to my face. She froze. The idea of raising my hand against her was ludicrous. What kind of man hit a woman? And Aria? No, the mere idea set my teeth on edge. She weighed less than half of me. She was innocent and vulnerable. “She didn’t disobey me.”
Scuderi looked fucking unhappy. As if I gave a fuck. “You’re right, but as I see it, Aria will be living under my roof until the wedding, and since honor forbids me to raise my hand against her, I’ll have to find another way to make her obey me.” He hit Aria’s sister a second time, and I had half a mind to intervene again, but that was beyond my control.
“For every one of your wrongdoings, Aria, your sister will accept the punishment in your stead,” Scuderi said. Aria looked as if she’d rather have him hit her than her sister. She was way too innocent and gentle for someone like me.
Scuderi turned to the bodyguard. “Umberto, take Gianna and Aria to their rooms and make sure they stay there.” Umberto sheathed his knife and led them out. Aria avoided looking at me as she helped her sister.
Raffaele’s whimper drew my attention back to him. He was still clutching his hand, crying like the fucking wimp he was. Matteo held out a tissue. I took it and cleaned my hand and knife roughly. I’d need water and soap to get rid of it completely.
“I trust you’ll keep Aria safe from male attention,” I said coldly, fixing Scuderi with a hard look. “I don’t want him anywhere near her. If I hear that someone as much as looks at her the wrong way, nothing will stop me from dragging Chicago into the bloodiest war you can imagine. I don’t share what’s mine, and Aria is mine. Only mine. She’s under my protection from this day on.”
Scuderi’s mouth thinned, but Fiore would lose his shit if peace broke because Scuderi couldn’t protect his own daughter. “Don’t worry. She will be protected. Like I said, she attends a Catholic school for girls and is never alone with men.”
I knelt beside Raffaele and he shied back, terror flashing in his eyes. I leaned even closer. “This was nothing,” I growled. “This pain is a fucking joke compared to the kind of agony you’ll be in if you go near Aria ever again. If you ever touch as much as a hair on her body,” my voice turned even deadlier, shaking with the force of my rage, “a single fucking hair, I’ll shove my knife up your ass and fuck you with it slowly until you bleed out through your asshole. Got it?”
He gave a jerky nod.
“I want to hear it.”
“I won’t touch her,” he pressed out, looking like he was going to puke onto my shoes at any moment.
I stood and stepped back, my lip curling in disgust at the coward in front of me. “We’re done here,” I said.
“I’ll see you out,” Scuderi said in a clipped voice.
Romero, Cesare, Matteo and I followed him. We didn’t shake hands as we parted. Those kinds of fake pleasantries could wait until my wedding.
After returning to our hotel, we gathered in the bar for another drink. Romero was the only one who barely touched his, always dutiful. I regarded him. I knew him since we were kids. He was close to Matteo’s age, and they’d gone to school together. He was a good soldier and a trustworthy man.
Noticing my attention, he frowned. “Is something the matter?”
“What do you think of Aria?”
Cesare and Matteo both fell silent.
Romero set down his glass, his body tightening. “She’s going to be your wife.”
“I don’t want you to state the obvious. I want to hear your impression of her.”
“She’s shy and obedient. Well behaved. I don’t think she’ll cause trouble in the next three years.” His words had been chosen carefully.
“She’s beautiful now. She’ll be out-of-this-world stunning in three years. I need someone to be her bodyguard, someone I can trust not to touch what’s not his or anyone else’s.”
Romero’s eyes widened, finally catching up. Matteo and Cesare looked surprised as well. “Luca,” he said quietly, “if you choose me to guard Aria, I swear she’ll be safe. And I won’t ever even think about her in an inappropriate way.”
Matteo snorted. “Don’t swear on it. I have a feeling it’ll be difficult not to have inappropriate thoughts about Aria.”
I fixed Romero with a hard look. “You know I trust you, and you’re one of my best soldiers, but what I just said to Raffaele holds true for anyone who touches her.” My eyes slid over all three men before I smirked and raised my arm, asking the barkeeper for another round. They’d got the message.
CHAPTER 4
ALMOST 3 YEARS LATER
Matteo waved a newspaper in the air when he entered my penthouse. Setting my
cup of coffee down, I raised my eyebrows. “Since when do you read the newspaper?” I asked. Of course we needed to stay up to date on political events, especially legislation, but that’s what the internet was for. Did Matteo think it would make him look better? Like some fucking Brooklyn hipster?
I wouldn’t put it past him to carry a newspaper with him for fashion purposes.
His answering grin raised my suspicions. “I saw an interesting article online when I checked the news in bed this morning and decided to get physical proof of it.”
“Of what?”
Matteo stepped up to the kitchen bar and put the newspaper down in front of me. My eyebrows rose in surprise when I saw the headline and the photo.
This is the woman who snatched New York’s most sought-after bachelor from the market!
Below the headline was a photo of me and beside it a photo of Aria. For a second, I froze. I hadn’t seen Aria in the last three years since our engagement. There hadn’t been any reason to do so. I’d sent her presents for Christmas, the anniversary of our engagement, Valentine’s Day, and her birthday—the last one yesterday for her eighteenth birthday.
Aria was painfully beautiful. The photo wasn’t an official one. It looked as if paparazzi had taken it without her knowledge, so her gaze was distant as she looked into the camera. She was walking the streets in Chicago, carrying a few shopping bags, and followed by Umberto and her second bodyguard. She was dressed in a short gray winter coat, an oversized white wool pullover, a heart-stoppingly short plaid skirt, and gray overknee suede boots that showed off her slim calves and legs. Her long blond hair trailed down her shoulders and good Lord, her face…I wasn’t even sure if she wore make-up, but she was stunning.
“You’re drooling,” Matteo said as he leaned across from me.
My eyes snapped up to his.
“But so was he.” Matteo pointed at a man in the photo who almost broke his neck to stare after Aria, checking her out. I felt the urge to find out who he was and kill him just for the thrill of it. But I had a feeling I wouldn’t stop killing if I punished every guy who checked out my fiancée.
