The drive to New York passed in silence. I was glad Luca hadn’t tried to make conversation. I wanted to be alone with my thoughts and sadness. Soon skyscrapers rose up around the car as we crept through New York at a glacial pace. I didn’t care. The longer the drive took, the longer I could pretend I didn’t have a new home, but eventually we pulled into an underground garage. We got out of the car without a word and Luca took our bags from the trunk. Most of my belongings had already been brought to Luca’s apartment a few days ago, but this would be the first time I saw where he lived.
I lingered next to the car as Luca headed for the elevator doors. He glanced over his shoulder and stopped as well. “Thinking about running?”
Every single day.
I walked up to him. “You would find me,” I said simply.
“I would.” There was steel in his voice. He jabbed a card into a slot and the elevator doors glided open, revealing marble, mirrors and a small chandelier. The opulence made it clear that this wasn’t a normal apartment building. We stepped inside, and nerves twisted my stomach.
I’d been alone with Luca last night and during the ride here, but the thought of being alone in his penthouse was somehow worse. This was his kingdom. Who was I kidding? Pretty much all of New York was his empire. He leaned against the mirrored wall and watched me as the elevator began its ascent. I wished he’d say something, anything, really. It would distract me from the panic rising up my throat. My eyes flitted to the screen showing which floor we were on. We were already on floor twenty and hadn’t stopped yet.
“The elevator is private. It leads only to the last two floors of the building. My penthouse is at the top, and Matteo has his apartment on the floor below.”
“Can he come into our penthouse whenever he wants?”
Luca scanned my face. “Are you scared of Matteo?”
“I’m scared of the both of you. But Matteo seems more volatile, while I doubt you’d ever do anything you haven’t thought through. You seem like someone who’s always firmly in control.”
“Sometimes I lose control.”
I twisted my wedding ring around my finger, avoiding his eyes. That was information I didn’t need to know.
“You have nothing to worry about when it comes to Matteo. He’s used to coming over to my place whenever he wants, but things will change now that I’m married. Most of our business takes place somewhere else anyway.”
The elevator beeped and came to a stop, then the doors slid apart. Luca gestured for me to step out first. I did and immediately found myself in a huge living space with sleek white sofas, dark hardwood floors, a modern glass and metal fireplace, black sideboards and tables, as well as avant-garde chandeliers. There was hardly any color at all, except for a few pieces of modern art on the walls and art pieces made from glass. But the entire wall facing the elevator was glass. The windows offered a view toward a terrace and roof garden, and beyond that skyscrapers and Central Park. The ceiling opened up above the main part of the living area, and a staircase led up to the second floor of the penthouse.
I walked farther into the apartment and tilted my head up. Glass banisters allowed a clear view of the upper floor: a bright gallery with several doors branching off of it.
An open kitchen took up the left side of the living area, and a massive black dining table marked the border between dining and living area. I could feel Luca’s eyes on me as I took everything in, approaching the windows and peering out. I’d never lived in an apartment; even a roof garden didn’t change the fact that it was a prison that rose high above the city streets.
“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.”
“Who’s Marianna?”
Luca came up behind me. Our gazes met in the reflection in the window. “She’s my housekeeper. She’s here a couple of days per week.”
I wondered if she was also his mistress. Some men in our world actually dared to insult their wives by bringing their whores into their own home. “How old is she?”
Luca’s lips twitched. “Are you jealous?” He rested his hands on my hips and I tensed. He didn’t pull away, but I could see anger crossing his face. But I also noted that he didn’t answer my question.
I stepped out of his hold and headed for a glass door leading out onto the roof garden. I turned to Luca. “Can I go outside?”
His jaw was tight. He wasn’t stupid. He had noticed how quickly I’d shaken off his touch. “This is your home now too.”
It didn’t feel that way. I wasn’t sure it ever would. I opened the door and stepped outside. It was windy, and distant honking carried up from the streets below. White lounge furniture took up the terrace, but beyond it a small well-kept garden stretched out toward a glass barrier. There was even a square in-ground Jacuzzi big enough for six people. Two sunchairs were set up beside it. I strode toward the edge of the garden and let my gaze wander over Central Park. It was a beautiful view.
“You’re not thinking about jumping, are you?” Luca asked, gripping the banister beside me.
I tilted my face up to him, trying to gauge if this was his attempt at humor. He looked serious. “Why would I kill myself?”
“Some women in our world see it as their only way to gain freedom. This marriage is your prison.”
I appraised the distance between the roof and the ground. Death was certain. But I’d never considered killing myself. Before doing that, I’d run. “I wouldn’t do that to my family. Lily, Fabi and Gianna would be heartbroken.”
Luca nodded. I couldn’t read his expression and it was driving me crazy. “Let’s go back inside,” he said, putting a hand on my lower back and steering me into the apartment. He closed the door, then turned back to 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,” I said, surprised. “Like a date?”
The corners of Luca’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t smile. “You could call it that. We haven’t been on a real date yet.” He wrapped an arm around my middle and pulled me against him. I froze, and the lightness disappeared from his eyes.
“When will you stop being afraid of me?”
“You don’t want me to be afraid of you?” I’d always thought it would make his life easier if I was terrified of him. Would make it easier to keep me in check.
Luca’s dark brows drew together. “You are my wife. We’ll spend our lives together. I don’t want a cowering woman at my side.”
That really surprised me. Mother loved Father, but she also feared him. “Are there people out there who don’t fear you?”
“A few,” he said before lowering his head and pressing his lips against mine. He kissed me without hurry until I relaxed under his touch and parted my lips for him. I raised my arm and hesitantly touched the back of his neck, my fingers brushing his hair. My other hand pressed against his chest, enjoying the feel of his muscles. He pulled away.
“I have half a mind to cancel this fucking meeting.” He rubbed his thumb over my lips. “But there’s still more than enough time for this later.” He glanced at his watch. “I really need to go now. Romero will be here when I’m gone. Take your time to look around and make yourself comfortable.” With that, he headed for the door and left.
For a moment, I stared at the door, wondering if anyone would stop me if I walked out of this building. Instead I moved toward the staircase and walked up to the second floor. Only one of the white doors was ajar, and I pushed it open. The master bedroom opened up before me. As with the living area, an entire wall was made up of windows overlooking New York. The king-sized bed was facing them. I wondered how it would be to watch the sunrise from bed. The wall behind the bed was upholstered with black fabric. At the end of the room a doorway led into a walk-in closet, and to its right I could see a freestanding bathtub through the glass wall separating the bedroom from the bathroom.
I walked toward it. Even from the bathtub you could watch the city. Despite the glass wall, the washbasins and the shower weren’t visible from the bedroom, and the toilet was in its own small room.
“Aria?”
I gasped. My heart pounded in my chest as I slowly followed the voice and found Romero on the gallery, carrying my bags. “I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said when he saw my face. I nodded. “Where do you want me to put your bags?”
I’d forgotten Luca had dropped them on the sofa. “I don’t know. Maybe the walk-in closet?”
He strode past me and set the bags down on a bench in the closet. My three suitcases as well as two moving boxes were beside it. “Do you know if I need to dress up for tonight? Luca said he wants to take me to his favorite restaurant, but he didn’t tell me if it has a dress code.”
Romero smiled. “No. Definitely no dress code.”
“Why? Is it a KFC?” I’d actually never eaten at a KFC. Father and Mother would have never taken us to a place like that. Gianna, Lily and I had once convinced Umberto to take us to a McDonalds, but that was the extent of my experience with fast-food joints.
“Not really. I think Luca wants to surprise you.”
I doubted that. “Maybe I should unpack then.” I gestured at my suitcases.
Romero kept a careful distance from me. He was nice but professional. “Do you need help?”
I really didn’t want Romero to touch my underwear. “No. I’d prefer to be alone.”
Compassion filled Romero’s face before he turned and left. I waited until I was certain that he was back downstairs before I opened the first box. On top was a photo of me with Gianna, Lily and Fabi. I cried for the third time in less than twenty-four hours. I’d seen them only this morning, so how could I already feel so alone?
* * *
When Luca came home almost five hours later, I’d changed into a skirt and a flimsy, sleeveless blouse. Despite my best efforts, my eyes were still slightly red from crying. There was a limit to what makeup could do. Luca noticed immediately, his gaze lingering on my eyes, then darting to the photo of my family on the nightstand.
“I wasn’t sure which was your side. I can move it to the other nightstand if you want,” I said.
“No, it’s okay.” Exhaustion was written plainly on his face.
“Was the meeting okay?”
Luca looked away. “Let’s not talk about it. I’m starving.” He held out his hand and I took it and followed him to the elevator. He was tense and barely said a word as we rode in his car. I wasn’t sure if he expected me to make conversation, and I was too emotionally drained to put up an effort.
When we stopped at a red light, he glanced over. “You look great.”
“Thanks.”
He parked the car in a gated parking area where they stashed the cars on top of each other, then we headed down a street with small restaurants offering everything from Indian cuisine, to Lebanese and Sushi. He stopped at a Korean restaurant and held the door open for me. Stunned, I walked into the crowded, narrow dining room.
Small tables were set closely together, and a bar at the front offered alcoholic beverages with labels I couldn’t even read. A waiter came up to us and upon spotting Luca, he led us toward the back of the restaurant and gave us the last available table. The people at the table beside ours stared at Luca with wide eyes, probably wondering how he’d fit. I took the seat on the bench running the entire length of the room, and Luca folded himself into the chair across from me. The man beside him shifted his chair to the side, so Luca would have more room. Did they know who he was or were they being polite?
“You look surprised,” Luca said after the waiter had taken our drink orders and left us with the menu.
“I didn’t think you’d go for Asian food, considering everything.” That was all I could say in a crowded restaurant, but Luca knew I was talking about the Taiwanese Triad.
“This is the best Asian restaurant in town, and it doesn’t belong to an Asian chain.”
I frowned. Was it under the protection of the Famiglia?
“It’s independent.”
“There are independent restaurants in New York?”
The couple at the table beside us gave me a strange look. For them our conversation probably seemed more than a little weird.
“A few, but we’re in negotiations right now.”
I snorted.
Luca pointed at my menu. “Do you need help?”
“Yeah, I’ve never tried Korean.”
“The marinated silk tofu and the bulgogi beef are delicious.”
“You eat tofu?”
Luca shrugged. “If it’s prepared like this, then yes.”
I shook my head. This was surreal. “Just order what you think is best. I eat everything except for liver.”
“I like women that eat more than salad.”
The waiter returned and took our orders. I fumbled with the chopsticks, trying to figure out the best way to use them.
“Have you never used sticks before?” Luca asked with a smirk. Was he mocking me?
“My parents only took us to their favorite Italian restaurant, and I wasn’t really allowed to go anywhere alone.” Bitterness rang in my voice.
“You can go anywhere you want now.”
“Really? Alone?”
Luca lowered his voice. “With Romero or me, or Cesare when Romero isn’t available.”
Of course.
“Here, let me show you.” He took his own chopsticks and held them up. I tried to imitate his grip and after a few tries, I managed to move the sticks without dropping them. When our food arrived, I realized that it was much harder to grab on to something with sticks.
Luca watched with obvious amusement as I took three tries to bring a piece of tofu to my lips.
“No wonder New York girls are so thin if they eat like this all the time.”
“You are more beautiful than all of them,” he said. I scanned his face, trying to figure out if he was being truthful, but as usual his face was unreadable. I allowed myself to admire his eyes. They were unusual, with their darker ring around the gray. They weren’t exactly cold right now, but I remembered them being that way.
Luca snatched a piece of marinated beef and held it out in front of me. My eyebrows shot up in surprise. Luca mirrored my expression, but his was more challenging. I leaned forward and closed my lips around the sticks, then pulled back, savoring the taste of the bulgogi beef. Luca’s eyes seemed to darken as he watched me.
“Delicious,” I said. Luca picked up a piece of tofu next, and I took it eagerly. This was better than trying to wrangle the chopsticks into submission.
I was grateful that Luca showed me this normal side of him. It gave me hope. Maybe that was his intention, but I didn’t care.
* * *
The relaxation I’d felt during dinner evaporated when Luca and I returned to our penthouse and stepped into the bedroom. I went into the bathroom and took my time getting ready before I returned.
Luca’s eyes took in my long, dark satin nightgown. It reached my calves but had a slit that went up to my thighs. It was still much more modest than the horrible thing I’d worn on our wedding night. And yet I was sure there was desire in his eyes.
Once he’d disappeared into the bathroom, I walked toward the window and busied myself watching the nighttime skyline. I was almost as nervous as last night. I knew I wasn’t ready for more than kissing. When I heard Luca come up beside me, I didn’t turn. His impressive stature was reflected in the windows. Like yesterday, he was only wearing briefs. I watched him reach out for me, and every muscle in my body tensed. If he noticed my reaction, he didn’t let it show. He trailed a knuckle down the length of my spine, sending a tingling sensation through my body. When I didn’t react he extended his hand, palm upward—an invitation, not a command, and yet I knew there was only one right answer.
I faced him, but my eyes were drawn to the long scar on his palm. I ran my fingertips over it. “Is that from the blood oath?” I peered up into his unreadable face. I knew during the initiation ceremony, men had to let blood while reciting the words of the oath.
“No. This is.” He turned his other hand, where a small scar marred his palm. “That,” he said with a nod toward the scar I was still touching. “…happened in a fight. I had to stave off a knife attack with my hand.”
I wanted to ask him about the first time he killed a man, but he curled his fingers around my wrist and led me toward the bed. My throat became too tight for words when he sat on the mattress and pulled me between his legs. I tried to relax into his kiss, and when he made no move to take things further, I actually felt the tension slip away and began to enjoy his experienced mouth, but then he lay back and pulled me onto the bed with him.
His kisses became more forceful, and I could feel his erection pressed up against my thigh. Still I didn’t pull back. I could do this. I knew it was coming. His hand cupped my breast and I stiffened despite my best intentions not to. He didn’t remove it, but didn’t move it either. His kisses made thinking difficult. Would it really be so bad to sleep with Luca? He drew back a couple of inches and trailed kisses toward my ear. “I’ve never wanted to fuck a woman as much as I want to fuck you right now.”
I froze. His words made me feel cheap. He was my husband and he had a right to my body—if you asked anyone in our family, anyway—but I deserved better than that. I didn’t want to be fucked like he was used to doing with other women. I was his wife. I wanted more.
I turned my head and pushed my palms against his chest. After a moment, he relented.
“I don’t want this,” I said, not bothering to hide my aversion from him.
I didn’t look at him, but I could practically feel his frustration. What did he think? That I would suddenly feel comfortable enough to sleep with him because he’d taken me out for dinner once? Was that how it worked with his other girls? For a long time he did nothing but stare at me, then he untangled himself from me.
He shut off the light without a word and lay on his side of the bed. I wished he’d at least hold me. This was my first night so far away from my family. It would have been nice if he’d comforted me, but I didn’t ask him to. Instead I pulled the covers up and closed my eyes.
* * *
When I woke the next morning, Luca was gone. There was no note, not even a text on my phone. He was really pissed. I shoved my blankets off. Bastard. He knew I didn’t know anyone in New York, and yet he didn’t care. I grabbed my laptop and opened my email account. Gianna had already sent me three new emails. The last one was almost threatening. I picked up the phone. Only hearing her voice was enough to make me feel better. I didn’t need Luca or anyone else, as long as I had Gianna.
The scent of coffee and something sweeter eventually drew me out of the bedroom and downstairs. Pans were clanking in the kitchen and as I turned the corner, I found a small, plump woman who looked old enough to be my grandma at the stove, making pancakes. Her dark gray hair was secured with a hairnet. Romero was perched on a stool at the bar attached to the kitchen island, a cup of coffee in front of him. He turned when I approached, his eyes taking in my nightgown before jerking his head away. Really?
The woman turned and smiled kindly. “You must be Aria. I’m Marianna.”
I walked up to her to shake her hand but she pulled me into a hug, pressing me against her ample chest. “You are a beauty, bambina. No wonder Luca is smitten with you.”
I swallowed a snide comment. “That smells delicious.”
“Sit. Breakfast is ready in a couple of minutes. It’s enough for Romero and you.”
I sat beside Romero on a stool. He was still pointedly looking the other direction. “What’s your problem? I’m not naked,” I said when I couldn’t take it anymore.
Marianna laughed. “The boy is worried Luca finds out he ogled his girl.”
I shook my head, annoyed. If Romero insisted on being a coward, he’d have to eat with closed eyes. I wasn’t putting a bathrobe on because I needed a bodyguard in my own home.
* * *
I was already dozing off when Luca came home that night. While he’d spent his day outside doing God knows what, I was a prisoner in this stupid penthouse. The only people who kept me company were Marianna and Romero, but she’d left after preparing dinner, and Romero wasn’t exactly the most communicative companion. I watched as Luca emerged from the bathroom, freshly showered. He barely acknowledged me. Did he think I cared? When he lay down beside me and extinguished the lights, I said into the darkness, “Can I walk through the city tomorrow?”
“As long as you take Romero with you,” was his short reply.
I swallowed my hurt and frustration. When he’d taken me to his favorite restaurant, I’d thought he’d try to make this marriage work, but it had only been a ploy to get me into bed. And now he punished me with the silent treatment.
But I didn’t need him, never would. I listened to his rhythmic breathing, pretending to be asleep. Shortly before I drifted off to sleep, the mattress shifted as he left the bed. Part of me wanted to stop him, but I remained silent.
I awoke in the middle of the night from a nightmare. Luca’s arm was wrapped around me, my body spooned by his. I could have pulled away, but his closeness felt too good. A part of me still wanted this marriage to work.
* * *
I missed Gianna and Lily so much, it was almost a physical thing.
Romero tried to be invisible, but he was always there. “Do you want to go shopping?”
I almost laughed. Did he think shopping made everything better? Maybe that worked for some people, but definitely not for me. “No, but I’d like to grab something to eat. Gianna sent me an email with a few restaurants she wants to try when she visits. I’d like to go to one of them today.”
Romero looked uncertain for an instant, and I exploded. “I asked Luca for permission a couple of nights ago, so you don’t have to worry. I’m allowed to leave this prison.”
He frowned. “I know. He told me.”
This was ridiculous. I left him standing in the middle of the living area and hurried up the stairs to the bedroom. I quickly changed into a nice summer dress and sandals, then grabbed my bag and sunglasses before heading back down. Romero hadn’t moved from his spot. Why couldn’t he pretend he was something other than my bodyguard?
“Let’s go,” I ordered. If he wanted to act like my bodyguard, I’d treat him that way. Romero pulled a jacket over his shirt to hide his holster, then pushed the elevator button. We didn’t talk during the ride down. This was actually the first time I saw the lobby of the apartment building. It was sleek, black marble, modern art, white high-gloss counter behind which a middle-aged receptionist in a black suit sat. He inclined his head toward Romero before his eyes zoomed in on me with obvious curiosity. “Good day, Mrs. Vitiello,” he said in an overly polite voice. I almost stumbled at hearing him call me that. It was easy to forget I wasn’t a Scuderi anymore. After all, my husband never seemed to be present.
I nodded in acknowledgement, then quickly rushed outside. Heat blasted against my body as I left the air-conditioned building. Summer in the city, nothing to be excited about. The smell of exhaust and garbage seemed to carry through the streets like fog. Romero was a step behind me, and I wondered how he could bear the heat in his outfit.
“I think we need to take a taxi,” I said, as I stepped toward the curb. Romero shook his head, but I’d already raised my arm, and a taxi swerved to the side and stopped beside me.
* * *
Romero hung a few steps back, his alert gaze on my back. It was driving me crazy. People were giving us strange looks. “Can you please walk beside me?” I asked as we walked down Greenwich Street where the restaurant was. “I don’t want people to think you’re guarding me.” He was probably still pissed that I’d made him take a taxi, instead of the black BMW that screamed mafia from afar.
“I’m guarding you.”
I stopped until he fell into step beside me. The outside of the restaurant was surrounded by wildflowers growing in terra-cotta pots, and the inside reminded me of British pubs I’d read about. It seemed as if every single waiter was tattooed, and the tables were set so closely together you could have eaten from your neighbor’s plate. I could see why Gianna would love it.
Romero’s lips twisted in obvious disapproval. It was probably a bodyguard’s nightmare. “Do you have a reservation?” a tall woman with a septum piercing asked.
“No.” Romero narrowed his eyes as if he couldn’t believe someone was actually asking something like that. I loved it. Here I was only Aria. “But it’s just the two of us. And we won’t take long,” I said politely.
The woman looked between Romero and me, then smiled. “You have one hour. You are a cute couple.”
She turned to lead us toward our table, which was why she didn’t see Romero’s expression. “Why didn’t you correct her?” he asked quietly.
“Why should I?”
“Because we aren’t a couple. You are Luca’s.”
“I am. And I’m not.”
Romero didn’t argue again, but I could tell it made him uncomfortable to act like we were anything but bodyguard and his boss’s wife. I ate a salad with the most delicious dressing and enjoyed watching the people around us, while Romero ate a burger and monitored our surroundings. I couldn’t wait to take Gianna here. Sadness filled me at the thoug