Luca Vitiello (Born in Blood Mafia Chronicles 0.5)

Romero held out the clean shirt to me. “Here, Boss.”

I put it on and handed Romero the bloody one. “Burn that one and take care of everything, Romero. I’ll drive.” Romero hesitated, his eyes flickering toward Gianna and Aria, and I realized he was reluctant to leave them alone with me. My first impulse was to smash him against the wall for even considering to defy me, but then I decided he probably had reason to be wary of me. But it wasn’t his call to make. After a moment, he turned and left. I leaned inside the back of the car where Aria was sprawled out, looking pasty and shaking. I touched her cheek and her eyes briefly focused on my face.

Some of my fury slithered away. I drew back and got behind the steering wheel. I wanted to get us home, where I could hold Aria in my fucking arms until the last of my bloodlust had died down.

Red locks took shape in my peripheral vision. “You are quite a hunk, you know that? If you weren’t married to my sister and not such an asshole, I might consider giving you a go.”

I slanted her a quick glance, a nasty reply on my tongue.

“Gianna,” Aria half-begged her sister. Was she worried I’d lose my shit on the bitchy redhead? I didn’t like Gianna, but she was a seventeen-year-old-girl.

“What, cat got your tongue? I hear you usually jump everything that doesn’t have a dick.”

She finally shut up when I didn’t take the bait. We pulled into the parking garage and I got out of the car.

I lifted Aria into my arms and carried her into the elevator. Gianna leaned across from me, and I didn’t like her expression one bit. I lowered my gaze to Aria, knowing she’d speak to the calm in me, a place few people knew existed. “Have you ever had a threesome?”

Did the bitch really expect any answers?

“How many women have you raped before my sister?”

My head jerked up. I wasn’t sure how much Aria shared with her sister. I wanted to crush Gianna and knew I could have done it by dishing out the simple truth that Matteo owned her pussy, but Aria touched my chest, and the anger drained out of me as I met her gaze. She was begging me to stay calm. “Can’t you do something else with your mouth than yap?” I muttered.

“Like what? Give you a blow job?”

I glanced up. That would be Matteo’s privilege. “Girl, you’ve never even seen a dick. Just keep your lips shut.”

“Gianna,” Aria whispered.

I strode quickly toward the stairs to take Aria to our bedroom, but Gianna barred my way. “Where are you taking her?”

“To bed,” I told her, trying to move past her, but she got in the way.

“She’s high on roofies. That’s probably the chance you’ve been waiting for. I won’t let her be alone with you.”

Was she suggesting I’d fuck Aria while she was helpless like this? “I’m going to say it only once, and you’d better obey: get out of my way, and go to bed.”

“Or what?”

That was the fucking problem. There was little I could do. For one because she was a girl, and for two because she was Matteo’s girl.

“Gianna, please,” Aria pleaded.

Gianna finally stopped the bullshit. “Get better.”

Without another glance at the bitch, I carried Aria into our bedroom. She squirmed in my hold, shivering. “I’m going to be sick.”

The moment I held her over the toilet, Aria threw up, still shaking. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, sounding embarrassed and miserable.

“What for?” I asked as I wrapped my arm around her and helped her up.

“For throwing up.”

I soaked a towel and held it out to her. Aria took it with a weak smile and cleaned her face, shaking in my hold.

“It’s good that you got some of that shit out of your system. Fucking roofies. It’s the only way for ugly fucks like Rick to get their dicks into a pussy,” I growled, my anger rekindling. If I didn’t already have so much on my plate, I’d have drawn his torture out over a few days.

I helped Aria into the bedroom. She leaned heavily on me. Glancing down at her, I asked, “Can you undress?”

She gave a small nod. “Yeah.”

I released her and she lost her balance. She landed on the bed and began laughing before she grimaced, holding her head. She definitely wouldn’t be able to undress herself. I leaned over her, trying to catch her attention. It took a moment before her eyes focused on me.

“I’m going to get you out of your clothes. They stink of smoke and vomit,” I explained slowly. For some reason it felt wrong to undress her in her state. She was drugged and obviously not in a state of mind to refuse advances. There was a good reason why roofies were the drug of choice for rapists.