Luca Vitiello (Born in Blood Mafia Chronicles 0.5)

“I still remember my first night with Criminella,” Durant said with a twisted grin.

After that, they all launched into stories of their own wedding nights.

My mood was on the verge of homicidal when the ordeal was finally over and most of the guests had left. I touched Aria’s back as I led her out of the dining room and up to our bedroom to pack. She was quiet and tense at my side, and I wasn’t sure if it was because of the presentation of the sheets or because of something else.

We had almost reached our bedroom when my brother made an appearance. I scowled at him. I could have used his help at the presentation, though knowing his temper, especially when he had a headache from last night, it was probably for the best that he’d taken off.

“You two lovebirds will have to postpone your mating session. I need to have a word with you, Luca,” he drawled, looking inexplicably cheery all of a sudden. Not a good sign. Aria cast her gaze up to me with obvious uncertainty, again asking me silently what to do. “Go ahead. Check if the maids packed all your stuff. I’ll be back soon.”

She didn’t need to be told twice and rushed into our bedroom. She wasn’t comfortable around my brother, or me for that matter, and I wasn’t entirely sure it was only because we were men.

Matteo grinned like a wolf. “The sheets were fake, weren’t they? My big bad brother spared his little virgin bride.”

I got into his face, narrowing my eyes at him. “Keep your fucking voice down.” We were alone in the corridor, but that could change at any point and then I’d have a lot of explaining to do.

Matteo cocked his head. “What happened? Did you have too much to drink and couldn’t get it up?”

“Fuck off. As if alcohol ever stopped me,” I muttered. When Matteo and I had partied the nights away, we’d always ended the evening banging a girl.

“Then what?” he asked, honestly curious as if it were incomprehensible that I could hold back.

The memory of Aria’s blank fear of me and her hopeless tears flashed before my eyes. “She started crying,” I admitted, my eyes darting to my forearm for a second. Matteo picked up on it of course and shoved the knife holder to the side, revealing my wound. I wrenched my arm out of his grip and repositioned the leather holder.

“You cut yourself,” he said, searching my face. Matteo was the person who knew me best and yet he was surprised. His mouth twitched, then he shook his head with another chuckle.

“I knew it. I told Gianna last night that she didn’t need to worry about Aria. You have a soft spot for damsels in distress.”

That was bullshit. I’d never felt the urge to hold back for anyone. “I don’t—” I began when his words registered fully. “You were alone with Gianna?”

Matteo nodded with a smile I didn’t like one bit. He motioned for me to follow him away from the bedroom. I doubted Aria was behind the door spying on us.

“I kissed her, and she tastes even better than she looks.”

“I can’t fucking believe you got more action than me in my own fucking wedding night.”

Matteo ran a hand through his hair. “The ladies can’t resist my charm.”

Did he really think this funny? I grabbed his shoulders. “This isn’t a joking matter, Matteo. The Outfit won’t find it funny if you go around deflowering their girls.” Father would have to make amends to the Outfit if that happened, and I wasn’t sure if these amends wouldn’t include having Matteo handed over to Scuderi for disembodiment. Or maybe Father would order me to dish out the expected punishment and kill my brother. I’d kill Father and every fucker who wanted to kill Matteo, but it would lead to all of us losing our lives.

“I didn’t deflower anyone. I kissed her,” Matteo interrupted my thoughts.

“Yeah, as if that’s ever the end of it.” I had noticed the way Matteo watched the redhead, but I had hoped he’d be more sensible than actually pursuing her.

“I want to deflower her. But I’m not an idiot.”

The facts were speaking a different language. Kissing a woman he wasn’t married to, especially from the Outfit, was the biggest kind of idiocy imaginable. If Gianna told anyone, we’d be doomed. The only thing stopping her was probably that she’d be ruined as well.

“I want to marry her.”

I froze. “Tell me you’re kidding.”

“I’m not. That’s why I need your help. Father won’t talk to Scuderi on my behalf if he thinks I want Gianna for any other reason than spite or revenge. You know him.”

“So what do you want me to do?”

“Help me convince him that she hates me and insulted me and that I want to marry her to make her miserable.”