Bound by Hatred (Born in Blood Mafia Chronicles 3)

“As if Father or anyone else in the Outfit would care if I ran off again. I’m not their problem anymore, remember?” I wiggled my fingers, showing off my wedding ring.

“Luca and Matteo would look weak if you managed to get away again, and that would weaken their position. Things between New York and Chicago haven’t exactly been going smoothly in the last few months.”

“Because of me?”

“Not just because of you,” Aria said. “Luca and Dante don’t get along very well. They are both alphas who aren’t used to working with equals.”

“I don’t suppose you know of a way how to get rid of this thing?” I tipped my finger against my black shackle.

“No. Is it very uncomfortable?”

I shrugged. “Not really, but I hate it. And I can kiss short skirts and dresses good-bye unless I want everyone to think I’m a criminal.”

Aria touched my arm lightly. “I’m sure Matteo will take it off soon.”

“I doubt that.” If I were him, I wouldn’t trust me anytime soon. Probably never.

Aria’s eyes darted to my hair again. She’d been doing it since she’d first seen me with the new color.

I smoothed a hand over my hair. “You hate it, right?”

“I’m not used to it. Maybe it’ll grow on me. But I miss your red hair.”

“Me too,” I said. “Matteo hates my brown hair as well.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to stay a brunette because you want to annoy him?” Aria asked with a knowing look.

I wasn’t that childish. Maybe six months ago that would have been my reaction but being on the run had helped me grow up. I wouldn’t keep my hair in a color I didn’t like to annoy Matteo. There were other ways I could make his life harder and I hoped to explore as many of them as possible. “I’ll change it back to my natural hair color as soon as I get the chance. Do you think Matteo will freak out if we leave the apartment in search for a hairdresser?”

“Probably. You’ve been married for less than a day. Maybe you should try to stay on your best behavior for today at least.”

“I’ll do my best,” I said sarcastically.

Aria got up. “It’s almost lunch time. Let’s grab something to eat and I’ll give my hairdresser a call and ask her to come over to do your hair, okay?”

I pushed to my feet. “Perfect. I’m starving.” I followed Aria toward the kitchen area. Romero put his phone down on the counter, eyes and posture alert as we approached. Sandro had probably warned him of us. That reminded me of something I’d wanted to ask Aria ever since I’d run off. I waited until she’d finished her call with her hair dresser and fixed us a salad before I bridged the topic.

“Did you get into a lot of trouble with Luca for helping me?” I asked quietly. I didn’t want Romero to overhear us. He seemed busy enough talking on his phone, probably to Matteo or Luca who were checking up on us.

Aria’s face tightened. “He was angry at first, but he’s forgiven me. I think he realized that I would never leave him.”

She and Luca seemed happy enough but sometimes outward appearances were deceiving, and I wasn’t entirely sure if Aria was telling the truth. She wouldn’t say something that might make me feel guilty.

“You sure?”

“Isn’t that my line?” she asked teasingly.

I grinned. “You taught me a thing or two.”

“Good to know.”

“There’s something else I’ve been wondering about,” I said quietly. “How did Matteo find me?”

“Luca didn’t really talk to me about the search. He knew I’d warn you. Do you think it could have been the blog? I think Luca checked my laptop. I tried to warn you.”

“I tried not to mention locations in my blog posts. But maybe they could track my location through my blog. Who knows?”

The bell rang. Romero walked toward the elevator before either Aria or I could move. “Will he ever leave us alone?” I asked when he was out of earshot.

“Not anytime soon,” Aria said with a shrug. She rose from her chair to greet the woman in her mid-forties who entered the penthouse with two huge bags. Aria introduced me to her hairdresser and five minutes later we’d set up a chair in the bathroom and my hair was being smothered in cream that was supposed to turn my hair to its original color, not immediately but after several treatments.

Luckily I was allowed to walk around while the color reacted with my hair. Aria lent me her laptop and I settled at the dining room table. With dread, I searched the German websites for any homicide news in Munich. It didn’t take me long to see the article mentioning Sid’s death. The police didn’t have any leads. My former roommates had to move for the time being, and I doubted they’d return to an apartment where Sid had found his end. The newspaper mentioned me, or rather my pseudonym Gwen, and that the police were looking for her because she was a witness. There wasn’t a photo of me, thank God. I’d always been careful that I didn’t appear in any pictures. But there was a photo of Sid with his guitar.

My stomach tightened with sadness and regret. Aria put a hand on my shoulder. “You shouldn’t read that. There’s nothing you can do, Gianna.”

I shut the laptop slowly. There was one thing I could have done. I could have told the police who was responsible for Sid’s death, so his family could find peace, but that was something I would never do. There were certain rules even I wasn’t going to break. I wasn’t stupid, or suicidal.

Aria’s worried gaze didn’t leave me as I returned to the bathroom to wash my hair. “I’m fine,” I whispered, but she didn’t seem to buy it, neither did I. The last twenty-four hours had been a whirlwind of emotions and change. I’d hardly had any time to reflect on everything that had happened, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to. Maybe Aria was right and I should try to move on and leave the past behind. The problem was I wasn’t sure I could. Didn’t I owe it to my conscience and Sid that I showed some defiance, that I didn’t just settle in my new life with Matteo as if nothing had happened?