ARIA Having Luke make love to me-nothing had ever been better-but I could see in the hunger in his eyes, in the controlled twist of his mouth that he needed more, and I was so ready for it. Although I loved his softer side, I equally loved his darker, harder side during sex. I sank my heels into his bottom, meeting his gaze in the mirror.
“More,” I whispered, and he immediately obeyed. He fell forward, taking his weight in his palms, eyes possessive and hungry as they pierced me, and then he hit me harder. My eyes found the mirror again, and he gasped. “Yes, princess. Look at us.” And I did. I could not have looked away even if I had tried. Luca was magnificent, and watching him claim me excited me like nothing ever had before. The muscles in his back moved beautifully under his tanned skin, and his firm, round backside stiffened with every thrust. He was so strong and powerful. All man, all alpha, all mine.
He hit me harder, deeper, hitting the spot I hadn’t even known before him, and I screamed my release. Luke let himself fall onto his forearms, thrusting harder, pushing me deeper into the bed. His pants became tiring, and then he groaned. His butt stiffened, his shoulder blades flexed as he came inside me, and I almost came again seeing him like that in the mirrors. How was I supposed to pay attention to my body when I could look at Luca? I ran my hands over his muscles, down to his strong rear, marveling that this man was mine, and not just his body but his heart as well. The past no longer mattered, least of all Grace. I was not going to give her the power to ruin another second of my honeymoon.
Luke stood over me and buried his face in my hair, but when he looked up, I could read an unexpressed question in them.
“I’m fine,” I said, then in a low voice, “I love the mirror.”
Luca chuckled, a somber sound from deep in his chest. “I knew you would.”
He slid off me and pulled me against him. It was a good start to our honeymoon.
The next day we left early in the direction of a small fishing village that was overrun with tourists in the summer months but quiet and picturesque the rest of the year. We went in search of a small cafe to have breakfast, since our attempt to make pancakes had proved a total failure. Hungry, we sat down at a small round table near the harbor. Luke shrank back in his wooden chair and I had to hold back laughter, but he was relaxed. More relaxed than he allowed himself to be at home. Of course, he had a gun strapped to his calf and a knife holstered to his chest, which was why he was wearing a black shirt despite the heat. Around here it was less accepted to display weapons, so Luca had to adapt. I ordered a cappuccino and cookies, although the locals usually reserved those treats for the afternoon. After that Luca and I strolled along the waterfront under the curious gazes of locals and tourists. “Come on, let’s go back to the boat. I prefer our privacy.”
I had to agree. Luca and I simply attracted too much attention, which was mainly due to the fact that Luca looked like a professional football player with his size.
Luca found another beautiful secluded cove for us. My eyes wandered over the crystal clear water to the pristine crescent-shaped beach. Luca handed me a snorkel and a snorkel mask. “How about a swim?”
I took them both from him, surprised. “I’ve never snorkeled before.”
“Now you will,” he said. We were already in our swimsuits, so all we had to do was put on our mask and snorkel. I couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Luca dressed like that.
“I didn’t think you were the snorkeling type. After all, you can’t carry weapons with you in the water.”
He raised his dark eyebrows and lifted a holster to his calf with a curved knife before strapping it to his leg. Obviously, he was going to carry a weapon with him.
He pushed me toward the platform at the far end of the yacht. I sat on the edge and slowly slid into the water. I had never swum that far out in the open and feared I would be unnerved by not seeing the ground beneath my feet, but when Luca reached me, a sense of security pervaded me. Luca would protect me. He was probably the most dangerous predator in these waters. I stifled a smile at the thought. The moment I put my head underwater and saw what was below, fish and, further down, fascinating rock formations, I forgot my worries. Luca and I snorkeled for almost an hour, Luca always close to me, protective as usual.
Afterwards, Luca and I had dinner before Luca took us to the beach in an inflatable boat. He spread a blanket on the sand and I sank into it while he took champagne from the cooler and sat beside me. The salty ocean air lingered in my nose.
He filled two glasses and handed me one. We clinked glasses and kissed before I brought the glass to my lips and took a sip. I had grown accustomed to the taste over the years and had come to appreciate the sourness and the bubbles bursting on my tongue. Luke put his arm around my waist, pulling me against him as we watched the sun set over the ocean in shades of pink and orange.
“I never imagined it would be like this,” I admitted in a whisper.
Luca turned to me. “What exactly?”
“Us, our marriage,” I said. “In the three years leading up to our marriage, I imagined how you would treat me. I listened to Umberto’s stories about your fights, how you slit a man’s throat, how you killed your first man when you were eleven, and all I could think was that I wouldn’t have survived if you had been the ‘man’ he and everyone had described.”
I remained silent, my eyes focused on the waves. My fears were still fresh in my mind; they had still filled my nights three months earlier, and now I was sitting next to Luca with champagne, feeling safer than I had ever felt in my entire life. Luca was watching me with rapt attention, but he did not interrupt me as I continued, “Our father used to beat us sometimes, Gianna more than Lily and I, but I was afraid you would do worse.” Luca’s hand on my waist stiffened but I pressed on. “I was protected, it’s true, but women talk and what I heard many of them say about how Made Men treat their wives terrified me, and those men weren’t even called the Deputy. I know we have not been married long, but if you continue to treat me the way you do now, I will be happier than I thought possible. I know I can consider myself lucky. I know it every time other women offer me words of consolation and give me sympathetic looks because I am your wife.”
Finally I met her gaze. Shadows played on her sharp features, but her eyes seemed to burn with emotion.
“Why aren’t you the monster everyone fears when you are with me?”
He said nothing, just inhaled deeply. I waited , hoping he would answer my question. “Because I don’t want to be. I want that part of my life to be good, pure. The rest of my life will always be full of violence and death. Cruelty runs through my veins and I’m happy to be the monster they fear whenever I’m not with you because it’s in my nature and I like it, but not with you, never with you, Aria, I swear.”
I tilted my head. “Can you? Swear something like that?”
He thought about it for a couple of beats before murmuring, “Yes, unless you do something so unforgivable, I would shoot.”
“And then what?” I urged him.
Luca made a low throaty sound and brushed my temple with his lips. “It will never come to that.”
I nodded and took another sip of champagne.
“Did your father ever raise his hands against you after our engagement?” whispered Luca darkly.
I hesitated.
That was the answer Luca needed, and he stiffened.
“I warned him not to raise his hands on you.”
I touched his forearm. “That’s the past, Luca. Don’t let it ruin the present.” I could see that he was reluctant to let it go, and I decided to take my own advice. I emptied the glass, set it down, then released myself from Luca’s grip and stood up. I pulled my dress over my head and dropped it on the sand beside Luca, who was looking at me impatiently. The ‘only light left came from the spotlights on our yacht and the small solar lamp Luca had installed on the deck. The breeze caressed my hair and twirled it as I smiled at Luca. He stood up and stripped off his clothes, and a shiver of excitement ran down my spine at the sight of his nakedness. He leaned in and bowed for a kiss. My hands roamed over his chest and his torn stomach as his ran down my back and caressed my buttocks. Soon my need to feel Luke inside me smothered everything else as he worked me with strong, expert fingers. His length dug insistently into my stomach. I stepped back, breathlessly catching my breath before saying, “I want to try the position again.”
Luca nodded, but I could tell he was apprehensive as we settled on the blanket. I turned my back to him, then knelt down and put my hands together. My stomach twisted with nerves. For some reason, I feared that this position more than any other would cause Luke to compare me to his previous mistresses. I had seen how he had fucked Grace, how hard she had let him take her, how unrestrained Luca had been. My body still sometimes froze when I didn’t want it to, and the new positions sometimes made me uncomfortable.
Luca stroked my back, a gesture so reverent that I relaxed under his touch. He pressed toward me but did not enter. Instead he leaned in and began to caress me. I groaned and pulled back a little so that Luca’s tip would slide in. He let out a deep breath before making his way deeper, and when he filled me completely, I understood why he preferred that position. It was deeper than ever, and I had to breathe slowly for the new sensation. I felt too tense. Luca grabbed my hips and slowly withdrew before going back in at the same pace. He found a slow, gentle rhythm, and step by step my body got used to this angle. Luke did not speed up, and despite the pain that followed, I moved my hips faster to respond to his thrusts and show him that he did not need to hold back. Yet his fingers on my waist tightened, holding me back. “No, love,” he growled.
“You’re still tense around me.”
“I don’t care,” I said. “You can move faster.”
Luke leaned forward, sliding even deeper, and I held my breath as he pressed his chest against my back. “No, I can’t. Not without hurting you.”
“I want you to find pleasure” .
“I find no pleasure in hurting you, believe me,” he said in a rough voice. “We have our whole lives to try every position. Don’t put pressure on yourself because you think you have to live up to certain expectations, because you exceed them all when it concerns me.”
He turned away from me. My snort of protest died when Luca turned me around and lifted me onto his lap. “Ride me. I want to look at your face.”
Searching his eyes, I found that he meant it and smiled as I lowered myself onto his length. Our gazes met as I rocked my hips, and pleasure surged through my core, and even as the tension rose to impossible levels, I rode Luke at a slow pace. His pants dropped as he clung to my waist, and then my orgasm swept over me, and Luke stiffened beneath me, his head falling back as he came inside me. I kissed his throat, feeling his pounding pulse against my lips.
I bit lightly and Luca’s cock jerked inside me as he growled . I smiled against his skin. Mine.
Our days on the yacht passed too quickly, and when we left the yacht in Palermo harbor on our last day, I felt a sense of melancholy.
Luca seemed to catch it. “We’ll be back next spring, I promise.”
I turned a grateful smile to him.
We still had to visit Luca’s great-uncle before we could return to New York, and I saw Luca’s demeanor change as we got into the car with Alexander, who had picked us up at the port. Luca was back to being Chief, back to being alert. There was nothing sweet or kind in his expression anymore. Sometimes, when I saw the looks he gave others, I remembered my fears of the past and felt immense relief to see that they were just that: memories.
“Did you enjoy your honeymoon?” asked Alexander, this time without bothering to speak in English. He was chatting away, but I could tell he didn’t like it.
“Yes, thank you,” I said. Alexander looked at Luca in the rearview mirror as if surprised that Luca had not answered. I thought the question was addressed to both of us.
“Is there any reason my great-uncle wants to talk to me other than to rekindle family ties?” Luca cut it short and went straight to the topic at hand.
“He will share his thoughts with you,” Alexander said in a sharp voice, and the look they exchanged made me shiver. The air seemed to get thicker with their dominance. It was like being locked in a cage with two alpha wolves.
Thirty minutes later, we arrived at a sprawling estate.
It reminded me of villas I had seen in Tuscany with its cream-colored facade and columns. Luca’s family had set up a long table in the courtyard in front of the main entrance. I was greeted by a wave of women with kisses and hugs and astonished looks at my hair. They all had black hair like Luca’s. I stood out as usual. Luca immediately approached a tall, elderly man with a mustache. His uncle, and after a moment, I also went over to them to greet the Head of the Sicilian Family. His dark eyes appraised me, lingering as usual on my hair, then he smiled. “You must be the pride of the Outfit.”
“I am now part of the Family, but thank you,” I said, throwing him my winning smile to soften my objection. He laughed, a hoarse sound, then took a cigar. He also handed one to Luca, who accepted it. I repressed a shudder. I hated the smell of it. “Call me Adalberto, if I can call you Aria?” Adalberto looked at Luca for approval. Luca tilted his head.
Obviously, my opinion was not their problem.
“Why don’t you help my daughters and granddaughters prepare our meal?” said Adalberto.
Luca’s mouth twitched, but I doubted anyone but me had noticed. “Yes, Aria, why don’t you?”
The sarcastic comment did not leave my lips. I would charge Luca later, when we were alone.
I followed the women into the huge kitchen and hoped they would give me a task I could handle. There were several pots on the stove and a whole lamb was hanging from a hook on the ceiling, already skinned, its dead eyes staring at me. Soon I found myself surrounded by chatty Italian women, who talked so fast that even I had difficulty understanding every word they said, and I was assigned the task of preparing artichokes.
I had never seen anyone prepare them and had absolutely no idea what to do. When my ignorance became apparent, Livia, Alexander’s younger sister who was only twelve years old, took my knife and showed me how to do it, and soon took complete control when my incompetence ruined two of the vegetables. Eventually I was given the task of stirring the soup in one of the pots. The women were kind despite my uselessness, but I could tell they were surprised that I did not know how to cook.
“I guess men in America don’t expect their wives to cook?” said one of Adalbert’s daughters, a shapely woman in her forties.
I doubted that most Italian men expected their wives to be perfect cooks, but these were Mafia women, and the Mafia was stuck in the past.
“Look at her hair, who cares if she can cook?” said Livia, her cheeks turning red as I smiled at her. Her comment was met by a wave of head nods. The role of the dumb blonde didn’t sit well with me, but I knew they weren’t trying to be mean. Everyone knew that Luca had not married me because of my wits. Neither he nor I had any choice in the matter.
When we served the food prepared for the men later, and Adalbert asked how I was doing, the women praised my skills. Only Luca knew that was a blatant lie. I was never going to be a decent cook or anything like that. I could tell from the tension around his eyes that his conversation with Adalberto and Alessandro, who sat with them but avoided Luca’s gaze, must have worried him.
Later, when we were finally alone on our plane, I had a chance to ask him.
“Things are getting difficult for the Family here.
My great uncle asked me if I would take in Alexander and his sisters if things got out of hand.”
“And will you?”
“Of course. We are a family. Honor requires me to do so, but Alexander is destined to be Chief. He will not easily bow to my rules. I hope it doesn’t come to that.” His expression changed from concern to something more relaxed.
“So I hear you’ve suddenly become a chef. Can I expect elaborate dinners in the future?”
“Sure,” I said softly. “You know how Marianna likes to go all out.”
Luca chuckled. Our housekeeper was a lifesaver when it came to food. She often prepared several meals in advance and put them in plastic boxes in our refrigerator so we wouldn’t starve. “You are a horrible housewife.”
I huffed. “I was not raised to be a housewife. I was raised to be a trophy wife.” The words left a bitter taste in my mouth, but it was the truth and I had to admit it.
Luca shook his head, his eyes reverent as he followed me. “You were born to be a queen.”