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my father would be happy if you hurt me.
The look in his eyes made me take another step back. Is that a threat?
I averted my eyes from his. My father might risk war over my death not because he loved me, but
to keep face , but definitely not over a few bruises or rape. For my father it wouldn t even be rape; Luca
was my husband and my body was his to take whenever he wanted. No, I said softly. I hated myself for
being submissive like a bitch bowing to her alpha, almost as much as I hated him for making me do it.
But you deny me what s mine?
I glared. Damn being submissive. Damn my father for selling me off like cattle, and damn Luca for
accepting the offer. I can t deny you something that you don t have the right to take in the first place. My
body doesn t belong to you. It s mine.
He will kill me , the thought shot through my mind a second before Luca drew himself up before
me. Six foot five was scarily tall. I saw his hand move in my peripheral vision and flinched in
anticipation of the blow, my eyes slamming shut. Nothing happened. The only sound was Luca s harsh
breathing and the pounding of my pulse in my ears. I risked a peek up at him. Luca was staring at me, his
eyes like a stormy summer sky. I could take what I want, he said, but the viciousness was gone from his
voice.
There was no use denying it. He was much stronger than me. And even if I screamed nobody would
come to my help. Many men in my and Luca s family would probably even hold me down to make it easer
for him, not that Luca would have any trouble restraining me. You could, I admitted. And I would hate
you for it until the end of my days.
He smirked. Do you think I care about that? This isn t a marriage of love. And you do already hate
me. I can see it in your eyes.
He was right on both accounts. This wasn t about love and I hated him already, but hearing him say
it crushed the last bit of foolish hope I had. I didn t say anything.
He gestured at the squeaky clean sheets of the bed. You heard what my father said about our
tradition?
My blood turned ice cold. I had, but until now I d put it out off my mind. My courage had been for
nothing. I stepped up to the bed and stared down at the sheets, my eyes boring into the spot where the
proof of my lost virginity would have to be. Tomorrow morning the women of Luca s family would knock
at our door and take with them the sheets to present them to Luca s and my father, so they could inspect the
proof of our consummated marriage. It was a sick tradition, but not one I could evade. The fight drained
out off me.
I could hear Luca coming up behind me. He grasped my shoulders and I closed my eyes. I wouldn t
make a sound. But not crying was a losing battle. The first tears already clung to my lashes, then dripped
onto my skin and burned a trail down my cheeks and chin. Luca slid his hands over my collarbones, then
down to the edge of my dress. My lips quivered and I could feel a tear dropping from my chin. Luca s
hands tensed against my body.
For a moment, neither of us moved. He turned me to face him and pushed my chin up. His cold gray
eyes scanned my face. My cheeks were wet with silent tears but I made no sound, only returned his gaze.
He dropped his hands, jerked back with a string of Italian curses, and then he drove his fist into the wall. I
gasped and jumped back. I pressed my lips together as I watched Luca s back. He was facing the wall,
shoulders heaving. I quickly wiped the tears off my face.
You ve done it. You ve made him really angry.
My eyes darted toward the door. Maybe I could reach it before Luca. Maybe I could even get
outside before he caught up with me, but I d never make it off the premises. He turned around and
removed his vest, revealing a black knife and gun holster. His fingers closed around the handle of the
knife, his knuckles already turning red from the impact with the wall, and he pulled it out. The blade was
curved like a claw: short, sharp and deadly. It was black like the handle, so it couldn t easily be seen in
the dark. A Karambit knife for close combat. Who knew Fabiano s obsession with knives would ever be
of use for me? Now I could at least identify the knife that would cut me open. Hysteric laughter wanted to
fight its way out of my throat but I swallowed it.
Luca stared intently at the blade. Was he trying to decide which part of me to slice open first?
Beg him. But I knew it wouldn t save me. People probably begged him all the time and from what I
heard it never saved them. Luca didn t show mercy. He would become the next Capo dei Capi in New
York and he would rule with cold brutality.
Luca came toward me and I flinched. A dark smile curled his lips. He pressed the sharp tip of the
knife into the soft skin below the crook of his arm, drawing blood. My lips parted in surprise. He put the
knife down on the small table between the two armchairs, grabbed a glass and held his wound over it,
then watched his blood drip down without a flicker of emotion before finally disappearing in the
adjoining bathroom.
I heard water running and then he returned into the bedroom. The mix of water and blood in the
glass had a light red color. He approached the bed, dipped his fingers into the liquid and then smeared it
onto the center of the sheet. My cheeks flushed with realization. I approached him slowly and stopped
when I was still out of arm-reach, not that it would do me much good. I stared down at the stained sheets.
What are you doing? I whispered.
They want blood. They get blood.
Why the water?
Blood doesn t always look the same. He would know.
Is it enough blood?
Did you expect a blood bath? He gave me a sardonic smile. It s sex, not a knife fight.
He will fuck you bloody . The words were burnt into my brain but I didn t repeat them.
Just how many virgins have you taken to know about this? And how many of them came willingly
into your bed? The words lay on the tip of my tongue, but I wasn t suicidal.
Won t they know that it s your blood?
No. He walked back over to the table and poured Scotch into the glass with water and blood. His
eyes held mine as he downed it in one gulp. I couldn t help but wrinkle my nose in disgust. Was he trying
to intimidate me? Drinking blood really wasn t necessary for that. I d been terrified of him before I d [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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my father would be happy if you hurt me.
The look in his eyes made me take another step back. Is that a threat?
I averted my eyes from his. My father might risk war over my death not because he loved me, but
to keep face , but definitely not over a few bruises or rape. For my father it wouldn t even be rape; Luca
was my husband and my body was his to take whenever he wanted. No, I said softly. I hated myself for
being submissive like a bitch bowing to her alpha, almost as much as I hated him for making me do it.
But you deny me what s mine?
I glared. Damn being submissive. Damn my father for selling me off like cattle, and damn Luca for
accepting the offer. I can t deny you something that you don t have the right to take in the first place. My
body doesn t belong to you. It s mine.
He will kill me , the thought shot through my mind a second before Luca drew himself up before
me. Six foot five was scarily tall. I saw his hand move in my peripheral vision and flinched in
anticipation of the blow, my eyes slamming shut. Nothing happened. The only sound was Luca s harsh
breathing and the pounding of my pulse in my ears. I risked a peek up at him. Luca was staring at me, his
eyes like a stormy summer sky. I could take what I want, he said, but the viciousness was gone from his
voice.
There was no use denying it. He was much stronger than me. And even if I screamed nobody would
come to my help. Many men in my and Luca s family would probably even hold me down to make it easer
for him, not that Luca would have any trouble restraining me. You could, I admitted. And I would hate
you for it until the end of my days.
He smirked. Do you think I care about that? This isn t a marriage of love. And you do already hate
me. I can see it in your eyes.
He was right on both accounts. This wasn t about love and I hated him already, but hearing him say
it crushed the last bit of foolish hope I had. I didn t say anything.
He gestured at the squeaky clean sheets of the bed. You heard what my father said about our
tradition?
My blood turned ice cold. I had, but until now I d put it out off my mind. My courage had been for
nothing. I stepped up to the bed and stared down at the sheets, my eyes boring into the spot where the
proof of my lost virginity would have to be. Tomorrow morning the women of Luca s family would knock
at our door and take with them the sheets to present them to Luca s and my father, so they could inspect the
proof of our consummated marriage. It was a sick tradition, but not one I could evade. The fight drained
out off me.
I could hear Luca coming up behind me. He grasped my shoulders and I closed my eyes. I wouldn t
make a sound. But not crying was a losing battle. The first tears already clung to my lashes, then dripped
onto my skin and burned a trail down my cheeks and chin. Luca slid his hands over my collarbones, then
down to the edge of my dress. My lips quivered and I could feel a tear dropping from my chin. Luca s
hands tensed against my body.
For a moment, neither of us moved. He turned me to face him and pushed my chin up. His cold gray
eyes scanned my face. My cheeks were wet with silent tears but I made no sound, only returned his gaze.
He dropped his hands, jerked back with a string of Italian curses, and then he drove his fist into the wall. I
gasped and jumped back. I pressed my lips together as I watched Luca s back. He was facing the wall,
shoulders heaving. I quickly wiped the tears off my face.
You ve done it. You ve made him really angry.
My eyes darted toward the door. Maybe I could reach it before Luca. Maybe I could even get
outside before he caught up with me, but I d never make it off the premises. He turned around and
removed his vest, revealing a black knife and gun holster. His fingers closed around the handle of the
knife, his knuckles already turning red from the impact with the wall, and he pulled it out. The blade was
curved like a claw: short, sharp and deadly. It was black like the handle, so it couldn t easily be seen in
the dark. A Karambit knife for close combat. Who knew Fabiano s obsession with knives would ever be
of use for me? Now I could at least identify the knife that would cut me open. Hysteric laughter wanted to
fight its way out of my throat but I swallowed it.
Luca stared intently at the blade. Was he trying to decide which part of me to slice open first?
Beg him. But I knew it wouldn t save me. People probably begged him all the time and from what I
heard it never saved them. Luca didn t show mercy. He would become the next Capo dei Capi in New
York and he would rule with cold brutality.
Luca came toward me and I flinched. A dark smile curled his lips. He pressed the sharp tip of the
knife into the soft skin below the crook of his arm, drawing blood. My lips parted in surprise. He put the
knife down on the small table between the two armchairs, grabbed a glass and held his wound over it,
then watched his blood drip down without a flicker of emotion before finally disappearing in the
adjoining bathroom.
I heard water running and then he returned into the bedroom. The mix of water and blood in the
glass had a light red color. He approached the bed, dipped his fingers into the liquid and then smeared it
onto the center of the sheet. My cheeks flushed with realization. I approached him slowly and stopped
when I was still out of arm-reach, not that it would do me much good. I stared down at the stained sheets.
What are you doing? I whispered.
They want blood. They get blood.
Why the water?
Blood doesn t always look the same. He would know.
Is it enough blood?
Did you expect a blood bath? He gave me a sardonic smile. It s sex, not a knife fight.
He will fuck you bloody . The words were burnt into my brain but I didn t repeat them.
Just how many virgins have you taken to know about this? And how many of them came willingly
into your bed? The words lay on the tip of my tongue, but I wasn t suicidal.
Won t they know that it s your blood?
No. He walked back over to the table and poured Scotch into the glass with water and blood. His
eyes held mine as he downed it in one gulp. I couldn t help but wrinkle my nose in disgust. Was he trying
to intimidate me? Drinking blood really wasn t necessary for that. I d been terrified of him before I d [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]