Bound by Hatred (Born in Blood Mafia Chronicles 3)

“I won’t marry anyone,” I snapped. “This is my life.”

Father looked livid as he stomped toward me and slapped me hard across the face. My ears rang and the taste of copper filled my mouth. A long time and many slaps ago, I would have cried.

“You will do as I say. You soiled our name and my honor enough as it is. I won’t tolerate your insolence a day longer,” he growled, face bright red.

“What if I don’t?”

My wrist was almost numb from Aria’s crushing grip. She’d managed to position herself halfway between Father and me, despite Luca’s obvious disapproval but he was busy holding Matteo’s shirt in an iron grip.

I tried to tug Aria back but never took my eyes off Father. Aria was still trying to protect me but this was a battle she couldn’t fight for me.

Father’s hand was still raised, ready to hit me again. What would he do if I hit him back? I wished I were brave enough to find out.

“For your betrayal nobody would blink an eye if I gave you to one of the Outfit’s sex clubs, so we can make use out of your promiscuity.”

Despite my best intentions, shock widened my eyes. Dante frowned but I wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not.

Matteo’s eyes were burning with so much hatred that the hairs in the back of my neck rose. Luca was still gripping his shoulder, stopping him from what? I wasn’t really sure. “That won’t happen. Gianna will become my wife. Today,” Matteo said.

“What? I--” I blurted but Father’s slap silenced me again. It was harder than before and his ring caught my lower lip. Pain burst through my face and warm liquid trickled down my chin.

“That’s enough,” Aria said, and suddenly Luca was pulling her back and Matteo was gripping my arm tightly and leading me out of the room and down the hall toward the bathroom. I wasn’t sure if it was the shock of what had happened or the speed in which Matteo dragged me away, but I didn’t fight him, only stumbled along, not even bothering to stop blood from dripping onto my shirt from my split lip. Matteo shoved me into the bathroom, then entered after me and locked the door.

I stared at my image in the mirror. My chin was covered in blood and more blood was dripping from the cut in my lower lip and onto my shirt. My lip was already swelling, but I was happy to find my eyes dry, no sign of a single tear. Matteo appeared behind me, towering over me, dark eyes scanning my messed up face. Without his trademark shark-grin and the arrogant amusement, he looked almost tolerable.

“You don’t know when to shut up, do you?” he murmured. His lips turned into a smirk, but it looked somehow wrong. There was something unsettling in his eyes. The look in them reminded me of the one I’d seen when he’d dealt with the Russian captives in the basement.

“Neither do you,” I said, then winced at the pain shooting through my lip.

“True,” he said in a strange voice. Before I had time to react, he gripped my hips, turned me around and hoisted me onto the washstand. “That’s why we are perfect for each other.”

Back was the arrogant smile. The bastard stepped between my legs.

“What are you doing?” I hissed, sliding back from the edge of the washstand to bring more distance between us and pushing against his chest.

He didn’t budge, too strong for me. The smile got bigger. He grabbed my chin and tilted my head up. “I want to take a look at your lip.”

“I don’t need your help now. Maybe you should have stopped my father from busting my lip in the first place.” The taste of blood, sweet and coppery, made my stomach turn and reminded me of darker images.

“Yes. I should have,” he said darkly, his thumb lightly touching my wound as he parted my lips. “If Luca hadn’t held me back, I would have plunged my knife into your father’s fucking back, consequences be damned. Maybe I still will.”

He released my lip and pulled a long curved knife from the holster below his jacket before twisting it in his hand with a calculating look on his face. Then his eyes flickered up to me. “Do you want me to kill him?”

God, yes. I shivered at the sound of Matteo’s voice. I knew it was wrong, but after what Father had said today, I wanted to see him begging for mercy and I knew Matteo was capable of bringing anyone to their knees, and it excited me. That was exactly why I’d wanted out of this life. I had the potential for cruelty, and this life was the reason for it. “That would mean war between Chicago and New York,” I said simply.

“Seeing your father bleed to death at my feet would be worth the risk. You are worth it.”

I wasn’t sure if he was joking or not, but this was getting too…serious. I wanted to kiss him for his words, but it was wrong. Matteo was wrong. Everything was. Not too long ago I’d watched Sid getting killed and I knew it might just as well have been Matteo who’d pulled the trigger. I couldn’t let him mess with my mind. He was too good at it.

I shoved his shoulder again. “I need to take care of my lip. If you have nothing better to do than to stand around, get out of my way.”

He still didn’t budge and he was simply too strong to move him. His muscles flexed under his shirt, making me wonder how he would look without it. Wrong. So wrong.

He set his knife down on the counter beside me.

“You shouldn’t leave sharp objects in my reach when I’m pissed.”

“I think I’ll take the risk,” he said, bracing his palms to both sides of my thighs, leaving me no choice but to lean back to bring some distance between us.