Bound By Love (Born in Blood Mafia Chronicles 6)

“Of course,” I said sweetly. “You know how much Marianna enjoys going all out.”

Luca chuckled. Our housekeeper was a lifesaver when it came to food. She often prepared several meals in advance and put them in plastic boxes in our fridge so we wouldn’t starve. “You are a horrible housewife.”

I huffed. “I wasn’t raised to be a housewife. I was raised to be a trophy wife.” The words left a bitter taste in my mouth, but it was the truth and I needed to own up to it.

Luca shook his head, his eyes reverent as they trailed over me. “You were born to be a queen.”chapter 4LUCAThe days passed quickly after our return to New York, and soon November rolled around and with it Matteo and Gianna’s fucking engagement party. The girl didn’t even try to hide that she didn’t want to marry Matteo.

If it had been up to me, I’d have let Scuderi marry her off to whatever old creep he’d chosen for her before Matteo played the fucking hero and asked for her hand.

She would bring trouble to New York, and I was glad that the wedding was still more than half a year away because additional trouble was the last thing I needed at the moment.

Dante entered my mansion with Scuderi and nine-year-old Fabiano, who trailed after them like a lost puppy. Gianna and Liliana had arrived earlier with their mother and immediately gone upstairs to prepare for the festivities. Neither of the women felt comfortable around me.

Dante and Scuderi wouldn’t be spending the night under my roof. They preferred a close-by hotel, and I was fucking relieved. Maybe our fathers had agreed on a truce, but Dante and I didn’t trust each other. I didn’t want him under the same roof as Aria. Not that he had any interest in her. He hadn’t officially taken over as Boss from his father Fiore Cavallaro yet, but everyone knew he was already running the show in Chicago.

“I still can’t stand their fucking faces,” Matteo muttered. “Especially Scuderi makes me want to optimize his face with my knife.”

One day maybe, but not today.

I walked toward them and held out my hand to Dante as tradition dictated. “Dante,” I said neutrally, which was the friendliest tone I could muster. “I hear you got engaged only recently. Congratulations.”

Dante inclined his head. “The wedding won’t be a big affair like yours with Aria.”

“We’re honored to attend anyway.” Of course, we had gotten an invitation and were required to go, even if I couldn’t have cared less if Dante married or not.

Dante inclined his head, his eyes cold and wary. I shook Scuderi’s hand after that, and squeezed a bit tighter than was called for, remembering what Aria had told me in Sicily—that he had hit her even after our engagement, even after I told him she was mine.

His brows drew together. “Luca.”

I released his hand. “Rocco.”

“Where is Aria?”

“She is talking to the caterer about some last-minute changes, but she will be here any moment.”

“Is Romero still her bodyguard? I never understood how you let an attractive man close to her age guard her. I wouldn’t allow my wife an opportunity like that.”

The moment this truce was over, I’d hunt him down and show him what it felt like to drown in his own blood. I smiled coldly, my voice steel. “My men know she is mine. No one would dare look at her the wrong way. Men like your nephew Raffaele would have been skinned in New York, their skin left to dry so it could make a nice carpet for my office.”

Scuderi’s face turned red.

Dante only met my gaze with the same cold appraisal as always. “We’ve come to celebrate an engagement, not skin anyone, I assume.” His eyes said he would have preferred the latter.

I inclined my head. “Of course. We want to further our bonds, right?”

“Right,” Dante clipped, and silence followed.

Beside me, Matteo looked like he was only waiting for a sign from me to pull his knives and carve a smile into their throats.

My eyes went to the small figure behind Scuderi who watched us with huge blue eyes, Aria’s eyes.

“Fabiano,” I said, trying to soften my voice but succeeding only marginally. He peered up at his father, who gave a jerky nod before Fabiano stepped forward and held out his hand. I took it and shook it, and then the kid narrowed his eyes. “Where are Gianna and Lily?”

Protectiveness rang in his young voice, and I had to stifle a smile.

“He’s buried them in the backyard,” Matteo said with a grin.

Fabiano jerked, and I sent Matteo a scowl. “They are upstairs,” I told Fabiano and tightened my grip slightly, sending him a warning look. He was still a kid, but I wouldn’t tolerate his insolence in my own territory.