Luca Vitiello (Born in Blood Mafia Chronicles 0.5)

“There’s nothing better than breaking them in,” Aria’s cousin Raffaele said. He was a head smaller than me. If tonight ended in a bloodbath, he’d be the one I’d kill last, so I could take my time with him. Let’s see if he’d still manage that ugly grin with my knife sticking out of his eye socket. Dante sent his soldier a hard look and Raffaele quickly glanced back down to his drink. It was the first time Dante had shown any kind of emotional reaction at all. His wife had died not too long ago.

Fiore was officially still the Boss of the Outfit, but I couldn’t help but wonder if Dante was the man who ran the show.

Someone knocked.

When the door opened and Aria slipped in, keeping her back to us, I stiffened. She didn’t look like the girl I’d seen yesterday. She was wearing a skimpy dress, revealing long, lean legs, creamy skin, and a nice butt. Damn it. When she finally turned, I found that the front was just as nice to look at. Then my eyes traveled farther up. Aria kept her head down, her eyes cast on the ground, and I could see her shivering in fear and discomfort. Something protective and furious reared its head in my chest, startling me. She was mine. How could her mother have let her walk around in this outfit? I’d bet my left ball that Aria hadn’t had a say in choosing that fucking joke of a dress. I’d fucked girls with skimpier dresses but this was my future wife, and she was only fifteen. Her parents should protect her, not treat her like this. She finally risked a peek up and met my gaze. For fuck’s sake, she looked like she wanted to cry. If I ever got the chance, I’d kill Scuderi and I’d fucking enjoy it. I put my glass down before I could fling it at the wall.

Aria’s eyes flitted around nervously. The other men in the room watched her with the necessary respect, but that fucker Raffaele was undressing her with his fucking eyes. If this were New York, I’d relieve him of the burden of ever seeing anything again. And maybe I’d do it anyway if he didn’t stop the leering soon.

Oblivious to Raffaele’s disrespect, Scuderi ushered Aria toward me. He looked at me as if he expected my jaw to drop to the floor because of Aria. She was gorgeous, and in three years I might appreciate her being dressed like this, but now it only pissed me off that Scuderi tried to make Aria look like some fucking sexbomb when she obviously hated it.

“This is my daughter, Aria,” Scuderi said with an eager look like a German shepherd waiting for his master to throw a stick.

Fiore gave me a self-satisfied grin. “I didn’t promise too much, did I?”

Fuck you. “You didn’t.”

Aria’s little brother snuck up on her and slipped his hand into hers. My eyes went to her legs for a moment but I tore them away.

“Maybe the future bride and husband want to be alone for a few minutes?” Father said with a look I knew only too well. He probably thought he was doing me a fucking favor. I didn’t miss Aria’s panicked expression, or the way she practically begged her father with her eyes to forbid it.

Of course Scuderi didn’t. He’d probably let me manhandle her right in front of him as long as I didn’t steal her virginity before the wedding.

“Should I stay?” her bodyguard asked.

Relief flashed across Aria’s face. I had no illusions as to what I was, but in this room I was the one Aria had to fear the least.

“Give them a few minutes alone,” Scuderi said, and Aria froze. What did she think I was going to do to her? Ravish her on the sofa? Father winked at me. He obviously thought I was going to grope at my fifteen-year-old fiancée. He probably would have. Everyone started to leave until only the little boy was left, clinging to his sister protectively. I had to give it to the midget, he was the only one from the Outfit with an ounce of courage.

“Fabiano. Get out of there now,” Scuderi snapped, and the boy let go of Aria and sent me a scathing look before he left. I liked that insolent brat.

The door fell shut and Aria and I were alone. She peered up at me through her long lashes, biting her lip. Did she have to look so fucking terrified? I knew how I appeared to others, and for a petite girl like her, I probably looked like a menacing giant about to crush her, but I had absolutely no intention of hurting her, much less feel her up no matter how delicious she looked. I wasn’t that depraved. I’d never forced myself on a woman, and Aria was only a girl. My fiancée. Mine. Mine to protect.