by Cora Reilly
Aria was my wife. She shouldn’t still be a virgin. Maybe she was ready tonight. Maybe she’d only been terrified because of the pressure on our wedding night.
Wasn’t she curious? I remembered how fucking eager I’d been before my first time despite my nerves.
When I stepped out of the bathroom, I found Aria in front of the panorama windows, her back turned to me, looking out toward the skyline.
I moved toward her, noticing the way her body tightened. It got only worse when I reached out for her. Her obvious nervousness set my teeth on edge, because I didn’t know how to put her at ease. Words of consolation or reassurance weren’t really my fucking strength. My first instinct was to give her an order to stop the tensing, but that wouldn’t have gone over well.
I reached out for her and she stiffened even more as if she thought I’d grab her, push up her nightgown and fuck her right against that window—which was what I wanted to do but never would, unless she fucking wanted me to. I touched my knuckles to her soft skin and lightly ran them down her spine, trying to show her that I was going to hold back for her, that I’d be careful with her.
Apart from the goose bumps pimpling her skin, she didn’t react. She obviously wouldn’t act on her own accord. I had no trouble leading; the problem was that my style of leadership was usually not for sensitive women, and Aria was breakable.
I held out my hand to her, knowing that she would follow my silent order because she’d been brought up to obey. She finally turned around to me, but her gaze rested on the scar in my palm, which she traced with her fingertips. My skin tingled from the almost non-existent touch. It was strange being treated that carefully.
“Is that from the blood oath?” She looked up, finally meeting my gaze. She often averted her eyes, and I wasn’t sure if it was because of my reputation or if her upbringing had taught her to cast down her gaze. It was something I wanted gone as soon as possible.
“No. This is,” I said, showing her the scar on my other hand. It was much smaller than the one Aria was still touching. “That happened in a fight. I had to stave off a knife attack with my hand.”
Aria’s eyes widened, her lips parting in surprise. I needed to kiss that mouth. Wrapping my fingers around her wrist, I led her toward the bed. She followed obediently, even though I could feel her pulse pound in her veins in fear. I decided to ignore it for now, because I had a feeling she’d still be a virgin in a year if I waited for her to be relaxed around me.
I pulled her toward the bed where I sank down and positioned her between my legs. I kissed her, enjoying her taste, the way she adapted to my demands. I let myself fall back and took her with me, my kiss becoming harder, more demanding. The feel of Aria’s body on top of mine awakened my cock. I traced her waist, her ribcage, and cupped her breast. Those clothes needed to go. I needed to feel her skin. Her heat, her scent, they were like a drug to me. I kissed her throat and ear.
“I’ve never wanted to fuck a woman as much as I want to fuck you right now,” I rasped.
Aria stiffened and turned her face away when I tried to kiss her again. She tried to sit up. For a moment, I considered holding tight, but then I released her, confused by her change in mood. She’d been into our kiss. I bet she was wet for my touch. Why did she pull back?
“I don’t want this,” she said, sounding actually disgusted, and the look on her face made me feel like my fucking father.
Anger surged through me. If she thought this was a fucking game, she’d better think again. She slipped off me and crawled under the covers. I couldn’t believe it. I’d never been turned down by a woman, much less twice, and definitely not by my own fucking wife.
Stifling my frustration, I turned the lights off. I wouldn’t be made a fool of. If Aria had no intention to turn this into a real marriage, then so be it. I had never wanted to marry, and if she preferred to keep her distance, I could keep myself entertained. I didn’t need this marriage to work. It was only for show, anyway.
I waited for her to fall asleep before I slid out of bed. It would have been disrespectful to leave while she was awake. It was a silent code of honor that husbands tried to keep that part away from their wives, even if their wives preferred them seeking out other women.
I grabbed my mobile and a few clothes before I headed downstairs. Aria’s expression, full of disgust and anxiety, kept flashing in my mind, making me feel like my father. That was the last thing I wanted to be.
My days of seeking women in clubs were over, and I couldn’t risk the press catching me. I sent Grace a text, even if I was starting to grow tired of her. “Apartment. Thirty minutes.”
She’d have to hurry to make it there in time. I left the penthouse, locking it so Aria would be safe, and drove to the apartment where Grace and I often met to fuck. My anger at Aria’s rebuke turned to anger toward Grace, because I knew she’d said something to Aria on our wedding day. Was that why she couldn’t bear my fucking touch?
Grace stepped in almost on time, slightly breathless but as usual with a heavy layer of make-up. Either she slept with that shit on her face or she’d hurried to put it on so she could meet me. “You’re two minutes late,” I said coldly.
She flushed. “I’m so sorry, Luca. I came as quickly as I could.” She removed her coat, revealing garters, a mini skirt, and a bra where her nipples peeked out. Usually that sight got me going, and I was getting hard, but for some reason it felt different, which annoyed the fuck out of me. If I couldn’t enjoy my wife, I at least, wanted to enjoy other women, but even that seemed impossible now that I was with Aria. Fuck it.
I focused on my anger, on the monster inside of me. “I don’t wait for anyone.” I pushed away from the wall, but Grace quickly stepped in front of me, touching my chest. I narrowed my eyes at her.
“I’ll make it up to you. I’ll give you what you need. My pussy is dripping for your cock, Luca.” She cupped me through my pants and squeezed hard. My cock jerked. I hadn’t slept with a woman in two weeks. That was the longest dry spell I’d suffered through since I was thirteen. All for Aria. Damn it.
“I knew that virgin pussy couldn’t keep you entertained.”
I gripped Grace’s neck hard and brought our faces close. “Don’t mention my wife again, understood? And don’t think I don’t know you talked shit to her on our wedding day.”
Grace winced, but my roughness turned her on. Her nipples puckered, and her lips parted. I just needed to get the fucking anger out of my system, the fucking desire for Aria.
“Get on your knees. I’m going to fuck your mouth.”
Grace shivered and knelt before me. I opened my zipper, grabbed her hair, and guided her mouth to my cock. I fucked her lips hard and fast, deep throating her. She moaned around my cock a few times. I pulled back, suddenly unable to bear her moans, the wet sounds of lips smacking around my cock.
She got to her feet with a smile. “Condom,” I told her. I didn’t have any with me. I’d given them all to Matteo shortly before my wedding because I’d assumed I wouldn’t need them again. Because I’d assumed my wife would want my touch and not look at me like Nina looked at my goddamn father. The mere idea that I could be like him, that Aria could think I was like that, it drove me insane.
Grace shook her head. “We don’t need it,” she said with a seductive smile. “I’m taking the pill, and I never went bareback with any of the other guys I was with.”
My lip curled. Did she really think I’d fuck her without a condom? I didn’t trust her one fucking bit. In her twisted mind, she probably thought that if she got pregnant, I’d actually stay with her. “I don’t go bareback, Grace.”
She pouted. “I bet you do with your wife.”
I stiffened. Shaking my head, I reached for my pants. “I warned you.”
“Luca, wait!” she cried, grabbing my hand. “Come on. Don’t be like that. Fuck me. I need you. I have a condom in my purse.”
Shaking her off, I left her standing naked in the room. Fuck. Why did she have to
keep bringing up Aria? And why the fuck did I care? Aria didn’t want this to be a real marriage. She couldn’t even stand my fucking closeness.
When I returned home, I went straight into the shower, not even glancing toward my sleeping wife, and cleaned myself under the hot spray. Returning to bed with Aria after what I’d done felt…wrong. I crept through the darkness, but even in the dim light I could make out the golden halo of her hair on the pillow. She was turned toward my side.
I carefully slid into bed. Aria didn’t stir. As my eyes grew accustomed to the dark, I made out her face and her bare shoulder. Her sweet, flowery scent drifted into my nose and suddenly I felt the urge to shower again. Fuck. I never wanted to marry, never wanted a woman at my side, in my life. But now I had a wife, a wife who didn’t want my touch when all I could do was think about touching her.
I rolled over, turning my back to her. I wasn’t sure what Aria was hoping for, but I knew she wouldn’t get it. And she was obviously determined not to give me what I wanted, either.
The next morning, I left bed early, not wanting to face my wife. I wasn’t worried that she’d realize where I had been; Aria didn’t have experience with men, so she wouldn’t be able to link my behavior to my nightly visit, but I was wary of being in her presence because, even without having to look at her, my fucking conscience was already giving me trouble. Before Aria, I had been convinced I didn’t have one to begin with.
I’d never felt like it, and it didn’t even make sense. Aria didn’t want this marriage. She’d been forced into this and made it plainly clear how unwilling she was.
CHAPTER 10
I felt like an intruder in my own penthouse. Trying to evade Aria was almost impossible. Wherever I went, her scent seemed to linger. I was growing tired of having to tiptoe around the fucking apartment, of not knowing how to handle the woman in front of me. My go-to reaction with anyone else would have been harshness, maybe even a threat or violence. My father had never walked on eggshells around his wives. He’d broken them until they anticipated his every demand before he ever uttered a word.
My eyes followed my wife as she sank down on the sofa with a book. She kept her distance from me, and so did I, but damn it, I couldn’t stop looking at her. “I have work to do all day,” I informed her. As if she gave a fuck.
“Okay,” she said simply.
Stifling my frustration, I turned and headed for the elevator. Romero had sent me a message that he was almost there. The door opened on Matteo’s floor and he joined me. “Still no luck?”
I glowered, knowing exactly what he meant. “No. She can’t bear my touch.”
Matteo regarded me curiously. “Maybe you’re just trying the wrong approach.”
“And what kind of approach do you suggest?” I gritted out.
He shrugged. “I don’t know your wife well enough to tell you what kind of approach she requires. Maybe you should ask Romero—after all, he spends more time with her than you.” Matteo grinned challengingly.
“Fuck you.”
When we stepped into the underground garage, I almost bumped into Romero, who was about to take the elevator up to the penthouse.
“Luca, Matteo,” he said with a small nod.
“I’ll be gone all day to check on the drug lab that reported suspicious delivery trucks in their street and won’t be back until midnight. Keep Aria busy.”
“Yeah, keep her busy,” Matteo said, wiggling his eyebrows.
I almost punched him. He was pushing all my buttons today.
Romero regarded us curiously. “You’re gone a lot.”
I was when I should be spending every second banging my beautiful wife.
“He’s busy fucking his whore, Grace,” Matteo said.
Disapproval flickered across Romero’s face before he could hide it. “Aria is a good woman.”
“She’s my woman and none of your business, Romero,” I snarled. “Make sure you guard her and keep her entertained.” I stepped up to him. “And no word about Grace to her.”
Romero gave a tight nod. He stepped inside the elevator without another word.
Matteo chuckled as he followed me toward my car. His bike parked right beside it. “You know how to make people hate you. Aria, Romero…”
“I don’t give a fuck if they hate me, as long as they do as I say. Both of them are forever bound to me by their fucking vows.”
Matteo mounted his bike. I got into my car before he could say anything else that would drive me up the wall.
Later that day I got a message from Father.
Matteo sent me a questioning look. “You look like you swallowed a bitter pill.”
“Father wants to see us.”
Matteo grimaced. “Again?”
“Come on. Let’s head over there. I want to get this over with as soon as possible.”
When we arrived in front of the mansion in the Upper West Side where Matteo and I had grown up, my insides tightened as they always did. I hated this fucking place, hated the memories connected to it. From the outside it was regally white, but it harbored only darkness. Light hadn’t been part of our childhood, or our present.
Matteo was already waiting on the bottom of the stairs leading up to the double doors. He was always quicker on his bike. His expression held the same apprehension that I felt.
We didn’t say anything as we headed up the stairs. The camera swiveled toward us. I keyed in the code that would switch off the alarm system and unlocked the door. The guards would already have seen our faces and stayed in their rooms in the back of the house. Matteo and I both froze in the entrance hall when Nina’s cry rang out.
“I’m sorry, Salvatore. Please…” She cried out again.
My hand curled to a tight fist. “Father, we’re here!”
Matteo shook his head, his mouth tight. “We should kill him,” he whispered. “You’re a better Capo. You’re a better everything.”
“Shhh,” I growled. Matteo had spoken quietly, but Father was paranoid. I wouldn’t put it past the old man to have micros hidden away somewhere so he could hear everything that went on in his home. There was nothing I wanted more than to kill my father, but the Famiglia would never accept patricide.
Father appeared on the landing, only in a bathrobe. He didn’t even bother closing it, and I had to stop myself from grimacing in disgust. He was covered in blood and still sporting a fucking boner from whatever he’d been doing to Nina. His cold eyes settled on Matteo and me, and his mouth pulled into a creepy benevolent smile. “Sons, good to see you.”
I knew he was trying to get a reaction out of us, daring us to look away from the sight of his disgusting old man dick. But Matteo and I were his sons. We had seen and done so many horrible things. No way in hell would we show weakness in front of that bastard.
“You called for us,” I said simply. Matteo stayed silent, which was for the best.
Father regarded my brother, and I knew he was daring him to say something. My muscles tensed. He had at least six guards in the back of the house. If Matteo lost his shit and we had to kill our father and his men, it would get nasty. Thankfully, Matteo gave a tight smile. It was fucking fake, but Father wouldn’t know that.
His self-satisfied smirk widened. “I have a few matters to discuss with you. I’m taking a shower and getting dressed. Check on Nina and see if she’s still breathing.”
I gave a terse nod. Satisfied with our obedience, Father turned and headed for his bedroom. Matteo met my gaze, and the look in his eyes worried me. “Let’s check on Nina,” I told him firmly.
Without a word, we headed upstairs and toward the bedroom Nina slept in. Father didn’t share a bed with her; he only sought her out when he wanted to fuck or when they had social events to attend.
The door was ajar. Taking a deep breath, I pushed it open, hoping I wouldn’t have to dispose of a body or make up an inane story about how Nina had died so we could publicly bury her.
Soft sobbing came from inside. My eyes landed on the bed wh
ere Nina was tied, spread-eagle. She was bruised, bloody, and naked.
“Fuck,” Matteo muttered. It wasn’t the first time that Father had done something like it. I pulled my knife, and so did Matteo. Nina whimpered when I cut through the binds around her ankles while Matteo freed her arms. She tried to sit up, but she must have been tied up for a while and couldn’t manage.
I reached for the satin gown discarded on the ground and draped it over her before I pulled her into a sitting position. I bent low so I was eye level with her. “Why don’t you run?”
Nina looked toward Matteo. “He would sent you after me.” Matteo was the best hunter in the Famiglia. He’d hunted down a few traitors.
“Matteo wouldn’t find you,” I muttered.
“I can’t,” she said firmly. “Where would I go? What would I do? This is my world.”
I straightened. Nina tolerated Father’s sadism because she loved the luxury and the money he could offer her. I didn’t understand it, and I didn’t have the patience to try.
Steps rang out and I moved back. Father appeared in the doorway, dressed in a dark suit and a high collared shirt.
“Salvatore,” Nina simpered submissively.
Father didn’t look at her, only at me and Matteo. “Why don’t you have a go at her? I don’t mind sharing her with my sons.”
He’d offered her to us before. I wasn’t sure if it was another way to test us and if he’d really let us touch what was his. Hatred filled me. I couldn’t understand my father’s reasoning. He was a disgusting monster. Instead of protecting her, he treated her like shit. I’d never hurt Aria like that, much less allow anyone to see her naked, or, heaven forbid, touch her. I’d kill anyone who thought he had a right to my woman. She’d never have to submit to anyone but me.
