Luca Vitiello (Born in Blood Mafia Chronicles 0.5)

“No. From this world. Have you never wanted to live a normal life?” She tilted her head and again searched my eyes, looking for a flicker of good or hope. She needed to understand who I was, who I’d always be.

“No. This is who I am, who I was born to be, Aria. It’s the only life I know, the only life I want. For me to commit to a normal life would be like an eagle living in a small cage in a zoo.” Fuck, I’d never even considered a normal life an option. I’d never dreamed of going to college, of having a normal job. I wasn’t even sure what I could have become if I wasn’t a Made Man. For as long as I could remember, becoming a Made Man, becoming Capo had been my goal. Nothing else had ever mattered. I’d finished high school, more for appearances than anything else, and only because Father’s influence and money had made the school board ignore my absence rate. “Your marriage to me shackles you to the mafia. Blood and death will be your life as long as I live,” I said at last, hating having to crush Aria’s wishes and hopes but knowing it was better early on.

She’d always be mine, had no choice in the matter because I wouldn’t give her one. If she settled for what she had instead of hoping for more, if she resigned herself to a marriage of respect instead of love, then maybe she could survive this life and her bond to me.

The thought didn’t sit well with me, but entertaining silly emotional fantasies had been beaten out of me as a kid.

Aria nodded, but she didn’t look crushed. She actually looked determined. “Then so be it. I’ll go where you go, no matter how dark the path.”

And, in true Aria style, all innocent and caring, she blasted through another wall I had absolutely no intention of lowering, taking with her my goddamn determination to make her settle for a bond of respect and convenience. I kissed her harshly, burning up with a myriad of conflicting emotions, most of them entirely foreign and utterly insane.

Aria wanted a fucking fairy-tale, a love story worthy of a goddamn Hollywood blockbuster. She was determined to get it, and I wasn’t sure if I was strong enough to deny her.Aria and I went down into the kitchen together. It was a few minutes before noon, and I had to meet Matteo and drive to the Sphere afterward. I hadn’t intended to stay in bed for so long, but after last night I felt the urge to keep Aria close for as long as possible.

Romero wasn’t there yet when Aria searched the fridge for something we could manage to turn into something edible and I prepared coffee. My eyes kept returning to her. She was dressed in a white summer dress with colorful dots, her hair still damp from our shower, her feet bare, and humming a soft tune I didn’t recognize. She looked as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

When the cups were filled with coffee, I set one down beside Aria, who’d assembled two bowls with fruit and cereal. Taking a sip from my coffee, I slid my arm around her waist from behind. Aria leaned back at once, the back of her head resting on my sternum as she peered up at me.

“You look happy and relieved,” I said quietly.

She bit her lip with a small laugh. “I am.”

“Why?” I asked in a low voice. I couldn’t stop touching her and only barely stopped myself from burying my nose in her blond hair.

She sighed. “Promise not to be angry?”

I frowned. “That’s not something I can promise, but trust me when I say I have a hard time being angry with you.”

Aria smiled. “I’m just relieved that it’s over.”

My eyebrows climbed my forehead. “You realize we’ll have sex again.”

Aria giggled, nudging me with her elbow. “I know. But I’m relieved that you finally made me yours…” Her voice dipped, her eyes flitting down to my nose in embarrassment.

That made two of us, but coming from Aria it sounded as if she’d survived a painful medical treatment, not sex. My confusion must have been plain as day, because Aria continued without prompting. “I was so scared because I wasn’t sure what to expect, scared of the unknown, especially because I wasn’t sure if you’d be gentle with me…but now I know I don’t have to be scared of being with you.”

I cupped her face and kissed her. “You won’t ever have to be scared of me, Aria, not in bed and not outside of it. I’ll always be gentle with you.”

I was utterly fucked.

The elevator binged. My eyes darted to the clock in the fridge. Point noon. Romero was on time as always. I stepped back from Aria, straightened and took another sip from my coffee. When the doors to the elevator slipped open and Romero stepped out followed by my pain in the ass brother, my face was back to my emotionless mask. Aria watched me, then took her own coffee and walked over to the barstool. Her gait was slightly off and, of course, both Romero and Matteo noticed. We had been taught by years as Made Men to notice the slightest shift in demeanor of others because it usually meant danger.