Good Lord, Aria. I kissed her hard.
Aria would always see only my tame side.ARIA“Damn it!” Luca’s shout made me jerk awake. The mattress shifted under his weight and I turned around, blinking back sleep. Luca was getting dressed, his phone wedged between his shoulder and ear as he pulled up his pants.
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Fuck!”
I sat up, worried. Luca put down his cell and put a shirt over his gun holster, then turned to me, grimacing. “Someone threw a Molotov cocktail into one of the Famiglia’s whorehouses. Two whores were burnt badly, and all the furniture burnt down. The police and the fire department are there. I have to go and limit the damage.”
I nodded slowly, stifling my disappointment. He moved toward me, gave me a quick kiss then walked out.
I bit my lip, shoving down my hurt. It was my birthday.
I slid out of bed, reached for my mobile and saw Gianna’s message. The moment she saw I was online, my phone rang. After I’d talked to Gianna, Fabiano and Lily, I felt better and got dressed.
I knew Luca needed to take care of Famiglia business if he wanted to be a good Capo, and yet I wondered if he had forgotten my birthday altogether. I headed downstairs where Romero was sitting at the counter. He smiled when he spotted me and got up. “Happy birthday, Aria.”
I offered him a shaky smile in return and his expression softened further. “Luca will be back as soon as he’s done.”
I gave a small shrug and poured myself a coffee. Loneliness washed over me. I didn’t have any friends in New York. As the wife of the Capo people in our circles didn’t treat me like a normal human being, and I couldn’t really be friends with outsiders. Swallowing my emotions, I took a sip of my coffee.
The elevator binged and Romero stepped in front of me but relaxed when Marianna walked in, carrying a cake. Her dark gray hair was secured with a hairnet as usual, and her dress strained over her plump body and ample breasts. Her motherly face pulled into a wide smile and upon putting the cake down, she pulled me into a tight hug. “Happy birthday, bambina. I baked almond cake for you. Luca told me it’s your favorite.” She frowned at Romero. “Where is he anyway?”
“Business,” Romero said simply.
Marianna didn’t ask any questions.
“Luca asked you to bake the cake?”
“He did.” Marianna cut off three slices of the cake, then took out plates and handed Romero and me each one and kept one for herself. We dug in, and I had to admit the cake was better than anything I’d eaten in a very long time. Marianna was a goddess in the kitchen.
Marianna touched my cheek. “You look sad. Why don’t you go out and have some fun with Romero?”
I wanted to spend the day with Luca but since that wasn’t going to happen, I gave a nod. Romero took me out for lunch to a nice restaurant, and afterwards I went all trophy wife and spent thousands in Century21, my favorite department store in Manhattan. We returned to the penthouse after a quick dinner in a small bistro. I didn’t bother removing the new clothes from the shopping bags; instead I grabbed a wool blanket and a book and headed out onto the terrace, where I curled up on the chair. Romero didn’t join me, probably picking up on my dark mood. I let my gaze stray over the skyline, a few tears slipping out, and I pulled up my legs and wrapped my arms tightly around them.
The sound of the door sliding open drew my eyes toward the French windows and Luca stepped out onto the terrace, his expression twisting with regret as his eyes settled on my face. I quickly wiped away my tears and stood, but Luca picked me up and kissed me. “Happy birthday, principessa. I wish I could have spent the day with you.”
“Romero kept me busy,” I said with a small shrug.
Luca shook his head. “Not good enough.” He carried me into the apartment and up into our bedroom. My eyes settled on the bed. A bouquet of white roses and a parcel lay on top of it. I smiled and kissed Luca’s throat before he set me down. I smelled the roses, then took the parcel and unwrapped it. Inside was a red velvet box, which I opened. A rose-gold bar bracelet sat on a gray cushion. Nineteen diamonds were embedded in the smooth rose-gold surface.
“Turn it around,” Luca said quietly.
I did and found words engraved into the inside of the bracelet.
In the darkest hour you are my light
Swallowing, I looked up into Luca’s warm eyes. He gripped his shirt, pulled it over his head and turned around. I froze when I saw the new tattoo on his shoulder blade, mirroring his Famiglia tattoo. The skin was still red.