“I can wait,” I said. “It’s not like I can’t keep myself entertained.” But from this day, she was mine.
After dinner, we moved to the lounge to drink and smoke. Rocco Scuderi and Fiore Cavallaro were insufferable show-offs, and Father tried to overshadow them with his own bragging. I wanted to stuff my ears with hot wax to be spared their bullshit talk. Aria better be worth it, because peace sounded less enticing with every fucking second I had to spend with the Outfit bastards.
I was on my fourth glass of scotch when everyone had finally left the lounge except for Matteo, Romero and Cesare. Father had left to meet with a high class prostitute from the Outfit’s best whorehouse, but I had no intention of risking a repeat performance of the Bratva whore incident.
I allowed myself to relax against the marble ledge of the fireplace. My eyes were heavy from being alert all day, and I couldn’t risk letting my guard down as long as we were in Chicago. Matteo was sprawled out on an armchair as if he owned the place. His grin didn’t bode well.
“It could have been worse,” Matteo said, grinning even wider. “She could have been ugly. But, holy fuck, your little fiancée is an apparition. That dress. That body. That hair and face.” Matteo whistled.
Anger surged through me. Matteo and I often talked about women like that, and even with less favorable words, but this was different.
“She’s a child,” I said dismissively, hiding my annoyance. Matteo would only irk me further if I gave him an opening.
“She didn’t look like a child to me,” he said, then clucked his tongue. He nudged Cesare. “What do you say? Is Luca blind?”
Cesare shrugged with a careful glance in my direction. “I didn’t look at her closely.”
“What about you, Romero? You got functioning eyes in your head?”
Romero looked up, then quickly looked back down to his drink. I stifled a smirk.
Matteo threw his head back and laughed. “Fuck, Luca, did you tell your men you’d cut their dicks off if they looked at that girl? You aren’t even married to her.”
“She’s mine,” I said quietly. I glared at Matteo. My men respected me, but Matteo was a losing battle. Not that I had to worry. He’d never lay hand on my woman.
Matteo shook his head. “For the next three years, you’ll be in New York and she will be here. You can’t always keep an eye on her, or do you intend to threaten every man in the Outfit? You can’t cut off all of their dicks. Maybe Scuderi knows of a few eunuchs who can keep watch over her.”
“I’ll do what I have to,” I said, swirling the drink in my glass. I had considered what Matteo had said before, and it didn’t sit well with me. I didn’t like the idea of being so far from Aria. Three years were a long time. She was beautiful and vulnerable, a dangerous combination in our world.
“Cesare, find the two idiots who are supposed to guard Aria,” I ordered.
Cesare left immediately and returned ten minutes later with Umberto and Raffaele. Scuderi was a step behind them, looking pissed.
“What’s the meaning of this?” he asked.
“I want to have a word with the men you chose to protect what’s mine.”
“They are good soldiers, both of them. Raffaele is Aria’s cousin, and Umberto has worked for me for almost two decades.”
I mustered them both. “I’d like to decide for myself if I trust them.” I stepped up to Umberto. He was almost a head smaller than me. “I hear you’re good with the knife.”
“The best,” Scuderi interjected. I wanted to silence him once and for all.
“Not as good as your brother, as rumor has it,” Umberto said with a nod toward Matteo, who flashed him his shark grin. “But better than any other man in our territory,” Umberto admitted eventually.
Matteo was the best with a knife. “Are you married?” I asked next. Not that marriage had ever stopped a man from having another woman.
Umberto nodded. “For twenty-one years.”
“That’s a long time,” Matteo said. “Aria must look awfully delicious in comparison to your old wife.”
I shot Matteo a look. Couldn’t he keep his mouth shut for a second?
Umberto’s hand twitched an inch toward the holster around his waist. My own hand was already resting on my gun. I met Umberto’s gaze. He cleared his throat. “I’ve known Aria since her birth. She is a child.”
He said it with a hint of reproach. If he thought that would make me feel guilty or anything close to it, he was a fool. “She won’t be a child for much longer,” I said.
“She will always be a child in my eyes. And I’m faithful to my wife.” Umberto glared at Matteo. “If you insult my wife again, I’ll ask your father for permission to challenge you in a knife fight to defend her honor, and I’ll kill you.”
That would make Matteo’s day. There was nothing he enjoyed more than a bloody knife fight, probably not even a pussy. “You could try,” Matteo said, baring his teeth, “but you would not succeed.”
Umberto wasn’t a threat. Neither for Matteo, nor for Aria. I could tell he was protective of her in a fatherly way. “I think you’re a good choice, Umberto.”
I turned to Raffaele. If we’d been in New York, I’d have already put a bullet in his head. Perhaps he thought I hadn’t seen the looks he’d given Aria when he thought nobody was paying attention. I stepped right in front of him. He craned his neck to meet my gaze. He tried to look cool. He wasn’t fooling me. There was fear. Good.
“He’s family. Are you honestly going to accuse him of having an interest in my daughter?” Scuderi butted in from the side.
“I saw how you looked at Aria,” I said to Raffaele. His eyes flickered nervously.
“Like a juicy peach you wanted to pluck,” Matteo threw in, enjoying this entirely too much.
Raffaele’s eyes darted to Scuderi like the spineless wimp he was. I knew guys like him. They got off on preying on the weak, especially women, because it was the only way they could feel strong.
“Don’t deny it. I know want when I see it. And you want Aria,” I growled. Raffaele didn’t deny it. “If I find out you’re looking at her like that again…If I find out you’re in a room alone with her…If I find out you touch as much as her hand, I will kill you.”
Raffaele flushed red. “You aren’t a member of the Outfit. Nobody would tell you anything even if I raped her. I could break her in for you. Maybe I’ll even film it for you.”
I grabbed the bastard and threw him to the ground. His face hit the floor hard and I dug my knee into his back. I wanted to break his spine in two and rip off his fucking balls. Then he’d never even think about using the words ‘rape’ and ‘Aria’ in the same sentence again.
Raffaele struggled and cursed. He was like a bothersome fly: weak and disgusting. Worth less than the dirt on my shoes. That he even dared think about touching Aria, about breaking her in…I grabbed his wrist and pulled out my knife.
I should cut off his balls and dick. That was what he deserved. But this wasn’t my territory. Even though it pissed me off, I looked at Scuderi for permission.