by Cora Reilly
“She shouldn’t have challenged him. Matteo is a determined hunter. He gets what he wants.”
“He gets what he wants? It’s not hunting if he forces her into marriage by asking my father for her hand. That is cowardice.”
“It doesn’t matter. They’re getting married.” I began to turn, tired of this discussion.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Aria dash toward the elevator, and my first instinct was that she was trying to run away. “Aria, what the fuck are you doing?”
I was too slow to reach her in time. The elevator doors closed in my face and it went down one floor. Tension flooded my body when I realized she was confronting Matteo. Fuck it. I hammered against the elevator button until it came back up. Matteo wouldn’t hurt Aria. He wouldn’t because she was mine.
When I stepped out, Matteo had Aria pressed against the wall, holding her wrists up above her head. My fingers twitched, a fierce wave of protectiveness rushing through me.
“Let her go,” I demanded. Matteo didn’t hesitate releasing Aria and bringing space between them, but I could tell he was majorly pissed at her. The way his cheek turned red, I had a feeling I knew why.
I moved toward them, checking Aria for any signs that Matteo had hurt her even when I knew that it would take more than a slap to make him hurt a woman, especially my woman.
“You won’t do that again,” I told my brother, glaring at him.
Matteo gave me a hard look. “Then teach her manners. I won’t let her hit me again.”
I got right into his face. “You won’t touch my wife again, Matteo. You are my brother and I’d take a bullet for you, but if you do that again, you’ll have to live with the consequences.” Challenge shone in Matteo’s eyes. He wasn’t used to anything or anyone coming between us.
“I won’t hit you again, Matteo. I shouldn’t have done it,” Aria said, surprising me.
Aria looked between Matteo and me. “I’m sorry if I hurt or scared you,” Matteo said. I could still see his anger, but I wasn’t sure if it was still directed at Aria or at me for siding with her.
“You didn’t,” Aria lied. Matteo would be able to see through it like I did. I walked toward her and wrapped an arm around her waist. She looked up to me, her eyes filled with disappointment. Was she still pissed because of Gianna? For god’s sake, her sister would have to marry anyway and Matteo was definitely not the worst choice. He wouldn’t abuse Gianna, no matter how much of a bitch she was.
Aria faced Matteo once more. “Don’t marry Gianna.” I squeezed her waist in warning, but Aria continued. “She doesn’t want to marry you.”
“You didn’t want to marry Luca either, yet here you are,” Matteo said, nodding toward us. It was true, but he wasn’t taking Gianna’s character into consideration. She wouldn’t be as sensible as Aria.
“Gianna isn’t like me. She won’t come to terms with an arranged marriage.”
I regarded Aria, wondering if this was only accepting the unavoidable, or if this marriage was really more to her, if her words about love could really be true and not her way to make this easier for her. But more than that, I wondered why the hell I cared.
“She will become my wife the moment she turns eighteen. No power in this universe will stop me from making her mine,” Matteo said.
Aria shook her head. “You disgust me. You all do.”
She walked past me, but I didn’t follow her, not even when she took the elevator back up to our apartment.
“And you say Gianna is trouble,” Matteo muttered, rubbing his cheek. “Your wife is quite a handful.”
I made a noncommittal noise. Aria was growing more confident, and even though part of me was annoyed by her outburst, I couldn’t help but be relieved that she wasn’t so painfully submissive around me anymore. I loved her fiery side as much as the rest of her.
I loved every little thing about her, even her frustrating emotionality.
Love.
I loved Aria.
“You look as if you had a stroke,” Matteo said.
Love was a risk. A weakness. Something I shouldn’t entertain.
“Luca?”
I shook my head at him, and at myself. I wasn’t capable of love.
CHAPTER 23
I avoided Aria over the next three days, hoping that my feelings would wane if I kept my distance, but they didn’t. It was torture, lying beside her at night without kissing and touching her, but even worse was not seeing her smile.
I spent even more time in the Sphere, determined to drive Aria out of my system with sheer work overload, but even that wasn’t working. Matteo and I were on our way back home when Cesare called. I knew at once that something was wrong. I’d seen him only two hours ago for a quick fight workout. If there was something he had to say, he could have done it then.
I picked up.
“The Bratva shot your father,” Cesare grunted, sounding out of breath.
For a moment, I was sure I hadn’t heard him right. Only Matteo’s wide-eyed stare confirmed the words.
“What?”
“He was out with his mistress and was hit by several bullets. I’m on my way there. It’s in his favorite restaurant. He’s still alive. The Doc will be there in a few minutes. Should I call an ambulance?”
“No ambulance. You know the rules,” I said then hung up. I jerked the steering wheel around and did a U-turn before hitting the gas and speeding toward the restaurant.
“Fuck,” Matteo breathed. “Maybe that’s it. Maybe someone took him off our hands.”
“He’s not dead yet,” I gritted out. “And the Bratva are the last people I want involved in his death. They’ll get overconfident.”
We arrived at the restaurant within five minutes. I jumped out of the car. A few men were gathered inside and outside the restaurant, most of them soldiers who lived close by. The police hadn’t arrived yet. Everyone in this area knew what kind of restaurant this was. Calling the police was out of the question. I jogged into the restaurant. The Famiglia soldiers had their guns pulled, and Cesare stood beside the Doc who was bent over Father. The ground was covered with broken glass and blood.
A young woman with a hole in her forehead was sprawled out beside an overturned chair.
Matteo and I headed for our father. The Doc was pressing down on a wound in Father’s stomach while his assistant held up a transfusion bag. Father was clutching the Doc’s arm in a desperate grip, sucking in one rattling breath after the other, and staring at us wide-eyed. For as long as I could remember, I’d wondered how it would feel to see my father like this, to watch him taking his last breaths. Occasionally I’d feared I’d feel regret or sadness, but there was nothing. Only relief.
I knelt beside him and Matteo on his other side.
“I can’t help him. If we call an ambulance, he might survive,” Doc said, his weathered wrinkly face solemn.
Father grasped my hand, bulging eyes on me, begging me. Didn’t he remember how he’d beaten and cut any hint of compassion out of me? He was trying to say something. I leaned down. “H-hospital…take me…take me hospital.”
I met his gaze and gave a nod, then I turned to the Doc, motioning for him to stand. He staggered to his feet and so did his assistant.
“Leave and tell the others,” I told them. “Father doesn’t want his men to witness his last moments. He wants to be remembered as the strong Capo that he was.”
Doc and his assistant headed toward the front of the restaurant. From the corner of my eye, I caught Matteo pressing down on a wound in Father’s side to stop the words he wanted to say and turn them into a pained gurgle. He wouldn’t be saved tonight.
The remaining men left with bowed heads until only Matteo and I remained with our father. I got down on my knees beside them again.
Father gasped in a ragged breath, growing paler and paler. “You…you traitorous….”
Matteo ripped the transfusion needle out and we both bent over our father. The man who’d tortured us and his wives, who’d d
riven our mother into suicide, he’d finally disappear.
“We would have killed you with poison soon. It would have been painless,” Matteo murmured, then paused with a twisted grin as he regarded the bullet wound in Father’s stomach. “I prefer it like this. With your last moments filled with agony.”
Father sucked in a rattling breath. He tried to move, to look for help, but Matteo and I barred everyone’s view, and I doubted anyone was even watching. They were giving us time to say goodbye. “That whore set you up to this…”
For a moment I thought he meant Nina, but then it dawned on me whom he was talking about: Aria.
“Lead you around by your dick,” he spat in disgust. “Wish…wish I’d fucked her before you.”
I leaned even closer to him and shoved one of my fingers into the wound in his stomach as fury consumed my veins in a raging fire. Matteo pressed a palm over his mouth to stifle the screams.
“You won’t ever touch my wife, Father. Aria’s a queen, and I’ll treat her like one. I won’t be like you. Your legacy dies today. Matteo and I will make sure of it.”
Father’s chest heaved more and more, and blood trickled out between Matteo’s fingers still pressed against Father’s mouth.
“I’ll tell Nina you suffered through your last minutes. She’ll be ecstatic to hear it. Maybe Matteo and I will toast your death with her with your favorite bottle of wine,” I growled. Father’s eyes bulged and he convulsed and then went still. I pulled my finger out of his wound and Matteo released his mouth, and for a moment everything was silent.
Matteo’s and my eyes met, our hands covered with our father’s blood. Matteo gripped my shoulder. “He’s gone.”
Gone. Finally gone from our lives.
My eyes took in the mess in the restaurant. Bullets from Russian guns littered the ground. “A traitor must have told the Bratva where to find him. Very few people knew.”
“Probably one of our uncles.”
“Probably. The question is how many men were involved beside them, and how to prove it.”
“We—“
“Down!” Cesare screamed. Shots rang out. Matteo and I dropped to the ground as bullets barreled through the restaurant. I pulled my gun as I crawled toward the bar. Matteo was close beside me. Outside, my men were shouting and firing.
Peering out behind the bar, I tried to make out our attackers. They must have been waiting for our arrival on nearby rooftops, or someone had alerted them that Matteo and I had come to see our father. A fucking traitor in our ranks. I started firing bullet after bullet in the direction of the shooters, letting my fury consume me, letting it guide my actions. Eventually the flashing lights of the police filled the dark. I shoved my gun into my pants before I walked out of the restaurant with raised arms, my pulse pounding in my temples. Cesare was trying to talk with the police, but they had their guns drawn. He pointed toward me. One of the police officers approached me while his colleagues aimed their guns at my men and me. “You’re in charge?”
For a moment I only stared at the man before reality sank in. Everyone was watching me as I stood covered in blood amidst broken glass. This mess was my responsibility now. My men expected me to find the people responsible, to dish out revenge, to keep the Famiglia together. “I’m Capo of the Famiglia.”
I barely listened to the officer. This was none of their business. It was mine, and I’d handle it. I’d find the men who’d worked with the Bratva to kill my father and tried killing Matteo and me—again.
My anger spiraled higher and higher. Soon the area was swarming with Famiglia soldiers and police. My father’s Consigliere Bardoni arrived not long after. “Where’s our Capo?”
I glared down at him. My father’s man through and through. “He stands in front of you.”
Bardoni’s eyes widened, then he plastered that slimy smile on his face. “My condolences. I’m sure you and your brother need time to grieve. I can take over business until you feel ready.”
I gave him my coldest smile. Did he really think I’d allow him to take control? I didn’t trust him one bit, but whom could I really trust at this point? My eyes took in the men around me. Matteo always. Cesare maybe. But everyone else could be a traitor. “I don’t need time. I will rule over the Famiglia, and Matteo will be my Consigliere from this day on.”
Bardoni took a step back, anger flashing across his face. “But—”
I gripped his collar, jerking him closer. “I’m your Capo. I don’t tolerate words of objection. You’d do well to remember that I’m my father’s son. Cruelty runs in my veins, and right now I want nothing more than to spill blood.”
“I apologize, Capo,” Bardoni sputtered, and I released him.
Two hours later, I was finally on my way home. My anger had only risen higher. I wasn’t even sure why. I felt such a myriad of emotions but anger was the most familiar option. For years I’d dreamed of getting rid of my father, of becoming Capo, and today my wish had finally been fulfilled. But it had come through betrayal. The traitors were still among us, waiting for their next chance to remove Matteo and me as well.
Someone had betrayed us again. Fucking again. Whom could I trust?
Fury turned my vision into a red haze. Violence burnt in my veins, pounded in my temples, wanting to be unleashed.
I staggered out of the elevator. Romero stood from the couch. “I heard what happened.”
Did he now? I stalked toward him. How could I be sure he was trustworthy? Few people knew what my father did. I shoved Romero against the wall. “Who told you?” I growled.
“Matteo,” he bit out.
“So you didn’t know before?”
Romero tried to unlock my hold on his throat but I pressed harder into him, so fucking desperate to rip something to shreds.
“I would never betray the Famiglia,” Romero choked out, then coughed. “I’m loyal. I’d die for you. If I were a traitor, Aria wouldn’t be here, safe and unscathed. She’d be in the hands of the Bratva.”
I released him and he dropped to the ground, sputtering. Aria came down the stairs in a little nothing.
Romero looked her way and I lost it. “Out, now,” I ordered, the rushing in my ears growing in crescendo. I gripped Romero, my body shaking with hardly suppressed rage. I threw him into the elevator then hit the button. The doors closed and I locked this floor so nobody would be able to come up.
Who knew if the murderer of my father was out for Aria as well.
Aria.
My body throbbed with a dark hunger, a ferocious burning. Everything around me was utter darkness, except for her.
“Are you okay?” Aria asked.
I turned my head toward her as she approached me slowly. My eyes took in her nipples straining against her nightgown. My need for bloodspill battled with lust in my body.
Aria took another step closer and I snapped, letting my hunger take control. My thoughts turned to static, my body driven by instinct. I grabbed Aria, feeling her heat, smelling her divine scent. Mine. Always mine.
I needed her, every inch of her. I jerked her forcefully against me and silenced her with a harsh kiss.
I turned, discomfort dragging me from sleep. My brain was foggy, my muscles tense and sore as if I’d worked out for hours. Groaning, I peered up at the ceiling before I realized I wasn’t in the bedroom. I jerked, fumbling for my gun, which wasn’t there, and sat up. Early morning light streamed into the living room. I was on the floor, completely naked. Images from last night, small glimpses as if taken through a foggy lens, materialized before my inner eye. Father being shot. Me returning home in a rage, attacking Romero and…Aria.
My chest constricted. I looked around and then my eyes landed on my wife, lying on her side on the wooden floor. She was curled into herself, her body covered in goose bumps. Slowly I got on to my knees and moved closer. Bruises bloomed on her lower back where she must have rubbed over the floor. Bile traveled up my throat at the sight. A sight I remembered from my childhood when Father had violated m
other.
What had I done? Fuck, what the hell had I done?
I pushed to my feet, staring down at Aria. With shaking hands I lifted her and found more bruises on her hips, finger shaped bruises. For a moment, I was sure I’d throw up. I hadn’t thrown up in a decade, not even when I had been surrounded by my enemies’ blood, bowels, shit, vomit and piss. I carried Aria into our bedroom and gently lowered her to the bed. Aria didn’t stir, deep asleep. And then a new worry shot through me. I carefully felt the back of her head for bumps, but there were none. She let out a small sigh. I sank down on the edge of the bed, feeling drained.
My eyes were frozen on my battered wife. All my life I’d sworn I’d never become my father, not in that regard at least. I curled my hands to fists, despair and guilt battling a furious war in my chest. I considered calling Matteo but shame stopped me. He and I had hated our father fiercely for how he treated his women. How could I admit that I was as bad as him?
Aria’s lids fluttered and I tensed, dreading the look in her eyes when she saw me. Would she hate me? Fear me?
How could I ever make it up to her? Ever apologize if I’d hurt her like I thought I had? There was no apologizing for something like that. It was unforgivable.
Aria looked at me with a small frown.
“What did I do?” I rasped, torn between not wanting to know and desperately needing to.
Aria peered down her body. I didn’t understand her reaction. Was she in shock? How badly had I fucked up? She brushed her fingers over her throat and I winced at the bite marks I’d left on her unblemished skin. I was a monster. I should have never been given someone like Aria.
Aria pushed into a sitting position and grimaced, pain flashing across her face. A new wave of self-hatred slashed through me sharper than any knife ever could.
“Aria, please tell me. Did I…?” I couldn’t even say the fucking word. What kind of man could perform the deed but not say the word?
