“Delicious,” I said. Luca picked up a piece of tofu next, and I took it eagerly. This was better than trying to wrangle the chopsticks into submission.
I was grateful that Luca showed me this normal side of him. It gave me hope. Maybe that was his intention, but I didn’t care.
* * *
The relaxation I’d felt during dinner evaporated when Luca and I returned to our penthouse and stepped into the bedroom. I went into the bathroom and took my time getting ready before I returned.
Luca’s eyes took in my long, dark satin nightgown. It reached my calves but had a slit that went up to my thighs. It was still much more modest than the horrible thing I’d worn on our wedding night. And yet I was sure there was desire in his eyes.
Once he’d disappeared into the bathroom, I walked toward the window and busied myself watching the nighttime skyline. I was almost as nervous as last night. I knew I wasn’t ready for more than kissing. When I heard Luca come up beside me, I didn’t turn. His impressive stature was reflected in the windows. Like yesterday, he was only wearing briefs. I watched him reach out for me, and every muscle in my body tensed. If he noticed my reaction, he didn’t let it show. He trailed a knuckle down the length of my spine, sending a tingling sensation through my body. When I didn’t react he extended his hand, palm upward—an invitation, not a command, and yet I knew there was only one right answer.
I faced him, but my eyes were drawn to the long scar on his palm. I ran my fingertips over it. “Is that from the blood oath?” I peered up into his unreadable face. I knew during the initiation ceremony, men had to let blood while reciting the words of the oath.
“No. This is.” He turned his other hand, where a small scar marred his palm. “That,” he said with a nod toward the scar I was still touching. “…happened in a fight. I had to stave off a knife attack with my hand.”
I wanted to ask him about the first time he killed a man, but he curled his fingers around my wrist and led me toward the bed. My throat became too tight for words when he sat on the mattress and pulled me between his legs. I tried to relax into his kiss, and when he made no move to take things further, I actually felt the tension slip away and began to enjoy his experienced mouth, but then he lay back and pulled me onto the bed with him.
His kisses became more forceful, and I could feel his erection pressed up against my thigh. Still I didn’t pull back. I could do this. I knew it was coming. His hand cupped my breast and I stiffened despite my best intentions not to. He didn’t remove it, but didn’t move it either. His kisses made thinking difficult. Would it really be so bad to sleep with Luca? He drew back a couple of inches and trailed kisses toward my ear. “I’ve never wanted to fuck a woman as much as I want to fuck you right now.”
I froze. His words made me feel cheap. He was my husband and he had a right to my body—if you asked anyone in our family, anyway—but I deserved better than that. I didn’t want to be fucked like he was used to doing with other women. I was his wife. I wanted more.
I turned my head and pushed my palms against his chest. After a moment, he relented.
“I don’t want this,” I said, not bothering to hide my aversion from him.
I didn’t look at him, but I could practically feel his frustration. What did he think? That I would suddenly feel comfortable enough to sleep with him because he’d taken me out for dinner once? Was that how it worked with his other girls? For a long time he did nothing but stare at me, then he untangled himself from me.
He shut off the light without a word and lay on his side of the bed. I wished he’d at least hold me. This was my first night so far away from my family. It would have been nice if he’d comforted me, but I didn’t ask him to. Instead I pulled the covers up and closed my eyes.
* * *
When I woke the next morning, Luca was gone. There was no note, not even a text on my phone. He was really pissed. I shoved my blankets off. Bastard. He knew I didn’t know anyone in New York, and yet he didn’t care. I grabbed my laptop and opened my email account. Gianna had already sent me three new emails. The last one was almost threatening. I picked up the phone. Only hearing her voice was enough to make me feel better. I didn’t need Luca or anyone else, as long as I had Gianna.
The scent of coffee and something sweeter eventually drew me out of the bedroom and downstairs. Pans were clanking in the kitchen and as I turned the corner, I found a small, plump woman who looked old enough to be my grandma at the stove, making pancakes. Her dark gray hair was secured with a hairnet. Romero was perched on a stool at the bar attached to the kitchen island, a cup of coffee in front of him. He turned when I approached, his eyes taking in my nightgown before jerking his head away. Really?
The woman turned and smiled kindly. “You must be Aria. I’m Marianna.”
I walked up to her to shake her hand but she pulled me into a hug, pressing me against her ample chest. “You are a beauty, bambina. No wonder Luca is smitten with you.”
I
