by Cora Reilly
“Luca’s got his young, little wife. Why would he want me?” Nina said quickly as if she really thought I’d consider it. I hadn’t last time, and I wouldn’t. It was bad enough that she had to bear Father’s touch; I wouldn’t break her further.
“She’s so shy and petite. I can only imagine how much fun it is to break her, right?” Nina said as if she needed other women to suffer so her own became easier.
I hated and pitied her equally.
“What about you, Matteo?” Father asked.
“I prefer my women young, and prettier,” he got out. It was a lie. Nina wasn’t that much older than the women we both took into our bed, and she was beautiful with her long brown hair and slender figure.
Father shrugged, then finally turned to his wife who’d managed to put on her bathrobe by now. “Take one of the guards and buy yourself a few new shoes and dresses.”
She smiled and nodded.
“But put on make-up, you look like shit,” he added.
I turned on my heel and left the room, not giving a fuck if Father still wanted me there. Matteo was close behind me, his eyes burning with rage. The same rage I felt. Maybe we should just kill him. Kill him today, and try to make it look as if someone else had. Nobody would be sad to see him gone. Not a fucking soul.
“In my office,” Father ordered as he followed us.
He took his time to sit down and lean back in his office chair, regarding Matteo and me.
“Still satisfied with your bride?” Father asked with a curl of his mouth.
Satisfaction hadn’t been part of my marriage so far, but that was something Father couldn’t find out.
I smirked. “I am. As you said, Aria is more beautiful than any other woman I’ve ever seen.”
“That she is,” Father said in a strange voice, and my hackles rose.
Matteo looked from him to me and his eyes sent a clear message. He’d be with me. He’d cut the bastard down if I gave the sign. And I seriously considered it, because I hated him for what he’d done to Mother, for what he did to Nina and all the other women, hated him for how he’d ruined our childhood and still ruined our lives as much as he could, but right this second I hated him the most because of the fucking greedy note his voice had taken on when he spoke about Aria.
Father narrowed his eyes at me. I knew I hadn’t been quick enough to hide my possessiveness, much less my murderous thoughts. My muscles tensed, trying to consider the best way to kill him…shoot the camera in the corner and then kill the guards before they could alert reinforcement. I knew Father was hated among our men, but even the respect they harbored for me wouldn’t be enough to make me Capo, at least not of a united Famiglia. We would be torn in half between the men who were loyal to my father, or pretended to be because it suited them better, and my supporters. It would be the end of the Famiglia. The Outfit would use our moment of weakness to strike, truce or not. The Famiglia was my future, my fucking birthright.
I forced myself to relax. I’d kill him another day, when I’d figured out a way to do so without people finding out. Father smiled. “Do you enjoy breaking her?”
I stared into his eyes, my smile turning harsh. “I won’t talk about my wife, Father. She’s mine and whatever happens between her and me is only for me to know. I won’t share a fucking memory with anyone. Mine alone.”
Father chuckled, but then he sobered. “Good, good. As long as you don’t mistake your ownership of her for something else. Don’t let a cunt lead you around by your dick. Women are good for three things only.” He waited for me to recite what they were.
My hands itched for my gun, or better yet my knife. This kill would have to be personal. I wanted his blood trickling over my fingers, wanted his last breath against my skin. I wanted to rip his bowels out one after the other as he watched. “Fucking, sucking, and showing off,” I got out.
Father cackled.
“I assume you didn’t call us over so we could untie Nina for you?” Matteo asked with cocked eyebrows.
I sent him a glare.
Father narrowed his eyes. “No. The Famiglia in Sicily is struggling. The Camorra over there is much stronger than they are in the States.”
That was a safer topic than women, but my anger still simmered under my skin.
Aria was content ignoring me. She never sought my closeness and slept soundly beside me at night while I couldn’t stop watching her and wondering why she looked at me as if I were my father when I’d sworn to myself to treat her right.
Fuck. I was turning into a fucking pussy.
Two days had passed since my last meeting with Grace, but today I met her again, and I didn’t wait long. Grace didn’t look at me with disgust. With her, I didn’t feel like my sadistic bastard of a father, even when she wasn’t the woman I wanted.
Within a few minutes of her arrival, I had shoved her on all fours on the bed and was fucking her from behind.
My mind kept drifting to Aria with every thrust. I pushed Grace further down so I only saw her hair—blonde but so very different from the spun gold of my wife. I tried to imagine it was Aria, tried to imagine her flowery scent, but Grace’s sweet perfume clogged up my nose and her moans kept distracting me.
My grip on her hips tightened further and I thrust harder into her, but I could actually feel myself soften at her fucking view. That had never happened, not with anyone.
I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t have to see the woman before me, and instead an image of the woman I really wanted formed before my inner eye.
“Yes! Harder!” Grace screamed, and I almost snarled at her to shut the fuck up. Instead, I tightened my hold on her hips and slammed into her, anger consuming my veins. What the fuck was I doing?
“God yes,” she moaned.
A board creaked. Tension shot through me a second before I reached for my gun on the bed beside me and opened my eyes, expecting a Russian fucker trying to catch me by surprise. Fuck. Aria stared back at me with wide, horrified eyes. Shock washed over me and I stilled. What was she doing here? How had she found this place? I’d never wanted a Bratva ambush more than I did now. Anything was better than the hurt look on my wife’s face.
“What’s the matter, Luca?” Grace shoved her ass back, driving my cock deeper into her, but I was already going soft. Aria still hadn’t moved, and nor had I. Her blue eyes filled with tears, and my chest tightened uncomfortably. She should never have seen this.
Before I could decide what to do or say, she whirled around and started running.
“Fuck!” I growled.
I pushed Grace away when she tried to reach for me. “Let her leave.”
I pulled up my pants, fucking glad that I almost never undressed when I fucked Grace. I started chasing Aria with my shirt still unbuttoned and my fly open, not giving a fuck if someone saw. Aria disappeared in the elevator and, before I could reach it, the doors closed and it began its descent. Damn it. I took the stairs, trying to button up my shirt. I couldn’t go out in public half-naked. That was a newspaper article I didn’t want to have to explain to my fucking father.
I stormed out of the building, catching a glimpse of Romero running after Aria who hurried down the steps toward the Metro. I ran after them. Fuck. I needed to catch her, needed to stop her from doing something stupid, needed to explain. Fuck it all. People jumped out of my way in wide-eyed shock.
I jerked to a halt on the platform just when the doors closed. Romero was a few steps ahead, but he too hadn’t managed to board the Metro.
I watched the Metro disappear with Aria in it. My heart pounded in my chest, not just from the sprint, but from worry over my wife. My crying, hurt wife.
“Fuck!” I snarled.
Romero turned to face me, panting. “I’m sorry, Luca. I don’t know how she found out. She tricked me and slipped away.”
I was too worried about Aria to be pissed at Romero for letting her run off.
I fumbled for my cell and lifted it to my ear, calling Matteo.
“I
thought you were banging Grace,” was the first thing out of his mouth. In the background, I could hear women laughing.
“I need your help. Aria caught me, and now she’s disappeared. We have to catch her before something happens to her.”
“Where are you?”
I told him where we’d be heading then hung up and called Cesare. Romero was already checking the stops of the Metro on his phone. “Where should we start?” he asked.
I took a deep breath, trying to anticipate Aria’s next move, but I didn’t know my wife well enough to guess where she’d be going, and she wasn’t familiar enough with New York to have favorite spots. “I want you to return to the penthouse in case she goes back there.”
Romero opened his mouth as if to protest, but I sent him a warning look. He’d messed up, not as bad as me, not nearly as bad as me, but still.
I went back to my car and drove to the first stop of the Metro. I doubted Aria had gotten off here, but I was at a loss as to where she could be.
Matteo pulled up next to me on his bike and opened his helmet. “Any clue where she could be heading?”
I shook my head.
“You realize your shirt is buttoned wrong?”
I ignored his comment. Where could Aria be? She was responsible and aware of the risks of our world. She would stay somewhere public, probably somewhere in Manhattan or maybe Brooklyn, but that still left about a million options. I closed my eyes briefly. If something happened to her…
“Luca?”
I looked at Matteo, who was frowning at me. “We’ll find her. Aria won’t run off. She’ll come back eventually.”
Eventually?
“Why don’t you call Gianna?”
I nodded. That was a good idea, but I doubted Gianna would tell me the first thing. Grabbing my phone, I realized I didn’t have the redhead’s number.
“Do you have her number?” I asked my brother. After all, he’d kissed her, so who knew if they’d exchanged more than spittle.
Matteo shook his head.
“Calling Scuderi is out of the question,” I muttered. Aria’s father would call my father, and then things would get nasty.
Cesare pulled up in his car and got out. We were only three men who needed to search New York.
We had to find Aria. There was no other option.
We’d been searching for Aria for almost two hours, but there was still no sign of her. My temple was throbbing, and I actually considered calling Scuderi after all. Screw the consequences. The only thing that mattered was getting back Aria.
My phone rang, and I picked up immediately.
“Aria just came home,” Romero said.
I sagged with relief. “Is she all right?”
“Yes,” Romero said without hesitation.
“Keep watch on her. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”
Matteo, Cesare and I arrived less than fifteen minutes later at my penthouse. Romero perched on the barstool but jumped off the moment we entered. “She’s upstairs, showering.”
His face reflected the same relief that I felt.
I walked past him, then continued upstairs. I pressed down the door handle but it was locked. I knocked. “Aria?”
No response.
I knocked harder. Still nothing. I could hear movement behind the door.
“Aria, let me in!” I hammered my fist against the door once more. I needed to see her with my own eyes, needed to make sure she was okay, unharmed. “I’m going to kick in the door if you don’t let me in.”
Matteo and Cesare slowly came up the stairs, watching me with worry. I didn’t give a fuck.
“Aria, open the fucking door!”
Finally, the lock was turned and I shoved open the door and stalked inside. Aria stood in the center of the room, dressed in a silk nightgown, her eyes swollen and red. I moved toward her and grabbed her arm, needing to know where she’d been, needing to explain what she’d seen.
“Don’t touch me!” she shrieked, wrenching out of my grip.
“Where have you been?” I rasped. I wanted to touch her arm again. I fucking needed to touch her, as if merely seeing her wasn’t enough to confirm she was unharmed. Aria jumped back, her eyes flashing with anger. “No! Don’t ever touch me again. Not when you use those same hands to touch your whore.”
“Out, everyone. Now,” I growled.
Steps rang out and then there was the familiar sound of the elevator.
“Where have you been?” My pulse was pounding wildly. Didn’t Aria understand how much danger she’d been in?
Aria glared at me, but behind the anger lingered deep hurt, and I didn’t get it. “I wasn’t cheating on you if that’s what you’re worried about. I would never do that. I think faithfulness is the most important thing in a marriage, so you can calm yourself now—my body is still only yours. I only walked around the city.”
If she knew how eager the Bratva probably was to get her hands on my wife, then she wouldn’t have done it. “You walked around New York at night? Alone?”
“You have no right to be angry with me, Luca. Not after what I saw today. You cheated on me.”
Guilt flared up in my chest, but I shoved it down. I was never guilty about anything. “How can I be cheating when we don’t have a real marriage? I can’t even fuck my own wife. Do you think I’ll live like a monk until you decide you can stand my closeness?”
Aria swallowed hard. “God forbid. How dare I expect my husband to be faithful to me? How dare I hope for this small decency in a monster?”
Faithful? Was this even a real marriage? Aria might have said yes, but she didn’t act like she wanted to be my wife. She’d looked at me like I was my father. “I’m not a monster. I’ve treated you with respect.”
“Respect? I caught you with another woman! Maybe I should go out, bring a random guy back with me and let him fuck me in front of your eyes. How would that make you feel?” Aria hissed, and something snapped inside me.
I grabbed her by the hips and hoisted her on the bed, pressing her down with my weight as I held her wrists above her head. Nobody would ever touch her. Nobody but me.
“Do it. Take me, so I can really hate you,” Aria whispered harshly, tears glistening in her eyes. She closed them and turned her face away. My gaze traced her flushed skin, her trembling lower lip, the tears that clung to her lashes. Scared. Scared of me. Fuck. Aria. My wife. Mine to protect and honor. I needed to control myself better. I lowered my head and pressed it to her shoulder, breathing in her flowery scent. I exhaled, getting a grip on my anger. “God, Aria.”
I released her wrists and raised my head. Aria didn’t move, her arms still stretched out above her head submissively. The sight of her surrender left a fucking bitter taste in my mouth. I tried to touch her cheek, but she drew back. “Don’t touch me with her on you.”
She was right. She didn’t deserve this.
I got up. “I’m going to take a shower now, and we will both calm down, and then I want us to talk.”
Aria peered up at me. “What’s there left to talk about?”
“Us. This marriage.”
Slowly, she brought her arms down from where I’d pushed her into the bed. “You fucked a woman in front of my eyes today. Do you think there’s still a chance for this marriage?”
“I didn’t want you to see that,” I murmured. Fuck, the look in her eyes when she’d caught me would haunt me for a long time, which was ridiculous considering how much I’d done and seen.
“Why? So you could cheat in peace and quiet behind my back?”
Aria was right, but she’d never showed any hint that she cared about this marriage. “Let me take a shower. You were right. I shouldn’t disrespect you further by touching you like this.”
She didn’t say anything, only regarded me with those sad eyes that felt like a blade in my chest. I turned and headed for the bathroom. I wasn’t sure how long I stood under the stream of hot water until I felt like I could return to my wife, like I’d washed every tr
ace of Grace’s perfume and touch away. I didn’t like the heavy feeling Aria’s tears had left in my body. It was a sensation I had no experience with and wasn’t keen on experiencing more often.
After I’d wrapped a towel around my waist, I returned to the bedroom where Aria sat against the headboard. Her hands were folded in her lap, those blonde tresses cascading down her elegant shoulders.
I felt like even more of an idiot for going to Grace when I had someone like Aria in my bed, but she still didn’t want me which became apparent once more when I dropped my towel and she quickly looked away as if she couldn’t bear the sight of me. I wasn’t vain like Matteo, far from it, but I knew how women checked me out. I worked hard for my body. After pulling on boxers, I sank down on the bed beside Aria. My gaze rested on her puffy eyes. It still caught me off-guard. “Did you cry?” The better question was why?
I’d have thought she would be happy if I left her alone and looked for another woman, like so many wives in our circles were.
She tilted her head toward me with a small frown. “Did you think I wouldn’t care?”
“Many women in our world are glad when their husbands use whores or take on a mistress. As you said, there are few marriages based on love. If a woman can’t stand her husband’s touch, she won’t mind him having affairs to satisfy his needs.”
Her mouth thinned. “His needs.”
“I’m not a good man, Aria. I never pretended otherwise. There are no good men in the mafia.” I’d been trying to be good to her even when I knew I’d fail eventually, but I’d hoped it wouldn’t happen so soon.
Her gaze dipped to my chest, the spot over my heart. “I know, but you made me think that I could trust you and that you wouldn’t hurt me.”
“I never hurt you.” Didn’t she realize how hard I was trying?
“It hurt seeing you with her,” Aria admitted in a whisper, looking away and swallowing once more as if she had to fight back more tears.
The urge to touch her was impossibly strong, but I held back. “Aria, I didn’t get the feeling that you wanted to sleep with me. I thought you’d be glad if I didn’t touch you.”
