Luca Vitiello (Born in Blood Mafia Chronicles Book 0)

by Cora Reilly

  It was strange to allow a woman into my domain. I didn’t really count my housekeeper Marianna as a woman in this case. She worked for me, after all. I’d never had one of my affairs or one-night-stands over, and even Nina had only managed to weasel her way inside once when she accompanied my father. But this would be Aria’s home now, not just mine.

  As I watched her take in my penthouse, I realized that was probably why she looked so tense. She hadn’t chosen this place like she hadn’t chosen me, but she’d have to call it home from this day on.

  I wondered if she liked it. There were no frills or soft colors, no plush throw pillows or fluffy rugs. I’d asked the interior designers to keep it functional and modern, with grays and whites and blacks. The only dashes of color were the modern art paintings that hung from walls—and now Aria.

  She stepped up to the French windows. With her bright orange dress and her long blond hair, she was an absolute eye-catcher in my colorless apartment. I wasn’t sure how long I’d stared at her when I finally snapped out of it.

  “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,” I told her. Her family had sent most of her belongings to New York a couple of days ago.

  “Who’s Marianna?” Aria asked without turning. I walked up to her until I could see her face in the window.

  For once her expression was blank, impossible for me to read. “She’s my housekeeper. She’s here a couple of days per week.”

  “How old is she?” Aria asked. She tried to sound casual, but the delicate blush traveling up her throat betrayed the reason for the question.

  “Are you jealous?” I asked. I touched her hips and, as always, she froze for a split second before she caught herself. I’d been doing everything I could to treat her right, but she still acted as if I’d brutalized her. I’d never felt more like my goddamn father than in this moment.

  Aria slipped away from me and moved toward the doors. When she faced me, her expression was perfectly controlled once more, and I hated it. “Can I go outside?” she asked.

  “This is your home now, too,” I gritted out, trying to hold back the darkness that threatened to claw its way out of my chest.

  Aria stepped outside and headed directly for the banister. I followed her, suddenly suspicious of her motives.

  “You’re not thinking about jumping, are you?” I asked as I leaned beside her. The idea that Aria might choose death over me like my mother had chosen death over my father, and ultimately Matteo and me, felt like a punch to the stomach.

  Aria looked up at me with a small frown. “Why would I kill myself?”

  “Some women in our world see it as their only way to gain freedom. This marriage is your prison.” She knew that as well as I did. There was no sense in lying to her.

  “I wouldn’t do that to my family. Lily, Fabi and Gianna would be heartbroken.”

  Of course they would, and of course Aria would think of them. I still remembered her anguish over having to leave them. “Let’s go back inside,” I said, wanting this conversation over. I led Aria into the apartment, my hand on her lower back. Despite her constant tension, I couldn’t stop touching her. It annoyed the hell out of 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,” Aria said, eyes growing wide. “Like a date?”

  I was surprised by my suggestion as well. It was a spur of the moment decision, wanting to show Aria that life in New York wouldn’t be as bleak as she feared. “You could call it that. We haven’t been on a real date yet,” I said, wrapping my arms around her. Aria tensed as usual.

  “When will you stop being afraid of me?” I asked quietly. People were always scared of me, but not the people who mattered: Matteo and Romero.

  Aria bit her lower lip. “You don’t want me to be afraid of you?”

  Dark amusement rose in me but I shoved it down. “You are my wife. We’ll spend our lives together. I don’t want a cowering woman at my side.”

  Some of the tension disappeared from Aria’s face and a small smile played around her lips. “Are there people out there who don’t fear you?”

  “A few,” I said. With the way she smiled, I couldn’t resist kissing her. She froze briefly but I did my best to keep our kiss gentle, my lips tasting hers without demanding she open up for me. It was fucking hard, but Aria’s softening body was my reward. She finally parted her lips for me and I dove in, teasing her tongue. She touched my neck, surprising me with the gesture. It was a soft touch as always. So soft and careful. When she put her palm up against my chest, right over my Famiglia tattoo, a surge of desire flooded me, but it wasn’t the only sensation I felt. For the first time ever, a kiss gave me a foreign sense of…belonging. I drew back, staring into the hooded blue eyes of my wife.

  I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket and almost groaned. “I have half a mind to cancel this fucking meeting,” I murmured, stroking Aria’s swollen lips, “but there’s still more than enough time for this later.” I glanced down at my watch. Only twenty minutes until the meeting with all of the Underbosses of the Famiglia. I’d suggested it myself, considering that they all were in the area because of the wedding, but now I really regretted my suggestion. “I really need to go now. Romero will be here when I’m gone. Take your time to look around and make yourself comfortable.”

  I quickly drew back from Aria before her soft body and enticing scent made me late. Without another glance at my wife, I headed for the elevator. It took me down to the garage, and I locked our floor with a code only Romero had. Checking my phone, I found a text from him telling me he’d be here in five minutes. That had been a couple of minutes ago. I headed for my car and got in. On my way outside, I passed Romero in his own. I gave him a quick nod before I sped up.

  The meeting would take place in the Vitiello townhouse. I’d never understand why Father took business home. Matteo’s bike was already parked in the front, right on the boardwalk, and he was perched on top of it, smoothing his hair back, and looking like he was waiting for a photographer to come along.

  I parked, then joined him. “Not inside yet?”

  “I was waiting for moral support.”

  “You mean someone who stops you from sticking your knife into one of our uncles?”

  “I don’t have a track record of killing family members, so if anyone ends up crushing our uncles’ throats, it’ll be you,” he said with his shark grin.

  Giving him the finger, I headed up the stairs. Matteo was close behind me.

  I jabbed the code into the security panel then stepped inside. Male voices came from the back of the house where the meeting room was situated. When we entered the room, everyone had already taken their respective seats. Only the two chairs on Father’s right side were still vacant, our seats.

  Father scowled. “You’re late.”

  My eyes darted to my watch. One minute late.

  “I’m sure the boy got distracted by his stunning wife,” Mansueto Moretti, Underboss of Philadelphia, said with a crooked smile. He was several years older than my father, which was why he dared to speak up at all, and his age was also why he was going to survive calling me boy.

  “He should get his priorities straight. A whore can be replaced,” Father drawled, turning around toward his liquor cabinet.

  Matteo gripped my wrist hard, and my eyes jerked toward him. His warning gaze made me take a deep breath. I wasn’t sure what he’d seen on my face, but it must have been bad. I turned back to the gathered men, most of them focused on my father who poured himself a scotch, but Mansueto and Uncle Gottardo had their eyes on me. The former didn’t worry me as much as the latter.

  I stalked toward my chair and sank down. Matteo took his seat beside me, still watching me warily. He could stop it. I wouldn’t kill our father in a room full of Underbosses. I was fairly sure the Underbosses from Philadelphia, Boston, Charleston
and Baltimore would be on my side, even if the last city was ruled by my Aunt Egidia’s husband, Felix. She hated her brother and her husband definitely shared that sentiment. But the remaining men wouldn’t be on my side. Father’s Consigliere Bardoni because he knew I wouldn’t keep him in that position the moment I was in power, and the other men because they were either loyal to my father or wanted to become Capo themselves.

  My father took his seat at the head of the table and took a sip from his scotch. He didn’t offer anything to us, but I hadn’t expected him to. It was his way to show all of us that we were his subjects, which was also why he sat in a wide leather armchair while we perched on fucking wooden stools.

  My father motioned with his glass toward his Consigliere, which was obviously his cue to report about the latest attacks from the Bratva in our territory. I knew of most of them already. I made sure to get updates from the Underbosses once a month at least, while my father never bothered to get involved. He preferred things being handled for him, especially in recent years. It led to some Underbosses, my uncles namely, doing whatever they pleased in their territories. That would change the moment I came into power, but knowing my father, he’d live forever out of spite.

  The meeting dragged on for hours, and when we finally emerged from the house, it was getting dark.

  Matteo blew out a breath. “I don’t suppose you’re up for a night in the Sphere?” he asked with lopsided grin, but his eyes were tired.

  “You said it yourself, my days as a free man are over. I have a date with Aria.”

  Matteo shook his head. “Strange to think of you as a husband. Why don’t you bring her along? I’m sure she can shake her booty to the beat.”

  “The only one she’s going to shake her booty for is me,” I muttered. The idea of Aria in a crowded club, even with me at her side, didn’t sit well with me.

  Matteo mounted his bike then put on his helmet. “Enjoy your wife, while I find a girl for a meaningless toilet stall fling.” He laughed, then put down his visor and raced away.

  Enjoying my wife was something I was fucking eager to do…if she’d let me.

  It was strange returning home, knowing someone was waiting for me. Someone who’d be waiting for me all our lives.

  But when I stepped into my penthouse, it wasn’t Aria I saw. Romero sat on the sofa but got up when he saw me. “She’s upstairs, getting ready,” he said.

  “How did it go?” I asked, regarding him closely. I trusted Romero, which was why he was allowed to be alone with Aria, but he was still a guy and she was a woman too beautiful for words.

  “She was upstairs most of the time.” He hesitated.

  “What?”

  “I think she cried, but I didn’t check on her.”

  I gave a terse nod. “Matteo is on his way to the Sphere. Why don’t you join him?”

  Romero glanced at his watch. “My mother and sisters expect me for dinner. They’ll be offended if I cancel.”

  When Romero had left, I made my way upstairs. The bedroom door was ajar, and I stepped inside. Aria came out of the bathroom, dressed in a white flowing skirt and a pink sleeveless blouse and pink high heels. A dash of color. Then my eyes registered her red eyes and the photo of her family on the nightstand farther away from the door.

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

  I didn’t really have a side I slept on, because I always slept alone. I had the entire bed.

  “No, it’s okay,” I said. The side farthest from the door was a good choice since that meant I’d be between her and a possible attacker coming through a door, even if it was nearly impossible to get inside the penthouse without my permission. Even torture wouldn’t make me give away the security code.

  “Was the meeting okay?” Aria asked, hovering a few steps away from me.

  “Let’s not talk about it. I’m starving.” I held out my hand, wanting the distance between us gone. Aria put her hand in mine, and I closed my fingers around hers loosely, marveling at how small it was in comparison to mine. I led her down into the underground garage silently. My mind kept drifting to Father and his lack of interest when it came to fighting the Bratva. He regarded the Famiglia and the Italian mob as superior and didn’t even consider that the Bratva could beat us at our own game. He was blind, and one day it would cost us parts of our territory. Truce with the Outfit wouldn’t change that.

  I glanced toward Aria, the woman who was meant to bring peace. It seemed strange that she might have been my enemy if our fathers hadn’t arranged our marriage.

  Aria noticed my gaze and turned to face me.

  “You look great,” I said. Great didn’t even begin to cover it. Aria was so breathtakingly beautiful.

  She gave me a small smile. “Thanks.”

  I parked my car in a gated parking area that I always used when I was in the area. On our way to the Korean restaurant I’d chosen for the date, I caught the looks of the men, caught their admiration and awe when they saw Aria. My wife. Mine. The look I gave them made their eyes move on quickly.

  Surprise flashed cross Aria’s face when I led her into the restaurant. Matteo and I both enjoyed Asian food and had discovered the place due to business a couple of years ago.

  One of the waiters came up to us at once and took us to a vacant table in the back. The place wasn’t fancy. There were no white table cloth and fancy napkins. Instead, there were narrow tables and barely any space between them.

  I ordered a lychee-martini, one of their signature drinks, while Aria scanned the drinks menu with furrowed brows. “I’ll have the same,” she said eventually, looking slightly overwhelmed and still stunned by my choice of restaurant.

  “You look surprised,” I said when the waiter had left.

  “I didn’t think you’d go for Asian food, considering everything.”

  “This is the best Asian restaurant in town, and it doesn’t belong to an Asian chain. It’s independent.” The Triad hadn’t been as strong in recent years. They had focused their forces on the West Coast, which suited me just fine.

  “There are independent restaurants in New York?” Aria asked, surprised.

  “A few, but we’re in negotiations right now.” Either they paid us for protection or the Russians. There really was no other option.

  Aria huffed, her eyes still busily scanning the menu.

  “Do you need help?” I asked when it became obvious that she was overwhelmed by the choices.

  Aria gave an embarrassed smile. “Yeah, I’ve never tried Korean.”

  I’d suspected as much. Scuderi didn’t strike me as a man who ventured out of his comfort zone very often. “The marinated silk tofu and the bulgogi beef are delicious.”

  Aria’s eyes grew wide. “You eat tofu?”

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

  Aria regarded me like she saw me in a different light. Maybe she’d finally stop flinching whenever I was near.

  “Just order what you think is best. I eat everything except liver,” Aria said, closing her menu.

  I was glad she wasn’t one of those women whose list of the things they didn’t eat was longer than the list of things they did. “I like women who eat more than salad.”

  When the waiter stopped at our table, I ordered for both of us while Aria battled the chopsticks.

  “Have you never used sticks before?” I asked once the waiter was gone. I had to stifle laughter at the look of deep concentration on Aria’s face.

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

  Of course, she hadn’t been. Rocco Scuderi had kept me updated on the state of things. “You can go anywhere you want now.”

  Aria raised her blond eyebrows. “Really? Alone?”

  I leaned forward so the people at the neighboring table wouldn’t overhear me. “With Romero or me, or Cesare when Romero isn’t available.”


  I could tell that Aria wasn’t happy about it, but she really couldn’t have expected me to let her walk around without protection. Deciding to distract her, I picked up my own chopsticks. “Here, let me show you.” I showed Aria how to open and close them.

  Biting her lip in a very distracting way, she tried to imitate the motions, again with a look of utter concentration on her face. “No wonder New York girls are so thin if they eat like this all the time.”

  “You’re more beautiful than all of them,” I said without hesitation.

  Aria peered up as if she wasn’t sure I was being serious. It was the longest she had ever looked into my eyes, and I wondered what she was trying to see. I was toeing the line, trying to make her feel comfortable and being good to her without making her hope for something as ridiculous as love.

  Aria had been completely sheltered; even if she knew the rules of our world and what kind of man I was. Her naiveté and innocence would still make her hope for something that would just never be.

  I picked up a piece of the bulgogi beef and held it out to Aria. Surprise flashed across her face. I raised my eyebrows in challenge. She parted her lips, then closed them slowly around the sticks, and I almost groaned. Did she even realize what kind of images she created in my mind?

  “Delicious,” she said, smiling sweetly.

  Watching her innocent joy over something as simple as eating Korean food filled me with a new appreciation.

  Aria became tense the moment we returned to our apartment and quickly disappeared into the bathroom. I ran a hand through my hair as my eyes rested on the bed. This would be our first night in our apartment, in this bed.

  Watching Aria enjoy herself during dinner had rekindled my desire for her. It was difficult to read her. Why was she so tense?

  The door to the bathroom opened and Aria stepped out in a long dark blue nightgown that contrasted beautifully with her golden hair and pale skin. My eyes were drawn to the slit showing off a small sliver of her smooth thigh.

  Unfortunately, Aria had the deer-in-the-headlights look going. I walked past her into the bathroom, needing to cool off. I splashed some cold water into my face. My body throbbed with the desire to lay claim on the woman in my bedroom. I’d never had to hold back, never wanted to, but Aria needed me to. Fuck. Staring down at the boner in my briefs, I pushed away from the sink.