Page 12 of Wicked Bloodlines

When he kissed me, it almost felt like we were at war. His mouth crashed against mine with bruising force, his hand tightening on my hip as he pressed me back against the wall with his body. There was nothing tender in it. Nothing gentle. It was anger and suspicion, raw hunger. His teeth caught my lower lip and I tasted copper, a bright spark of pain that short-circuited every rational thought I’d been clinging to.

I froze. For one split second, my body locked up like a deer in headlights, a woman pinned against a wall by a man who could break her without effort. Then something inside me detonated, and I kissed him back with a fury that matched his own. My fingers twisted into the front of his shirt, pulling him closer when every survival instinct I possessed screamed to shove him away. His stubble scraped my chin. His hand slid from my hip to the small of my back, pulling me flush against him, and the solid heat of his body against mine sent a shock of electricity down my spine.

It lasted seconds. Five. Maybe ten. Long enough to ruin me.

He pulled back first, his breath ragged, his hand still fisted in the fabric at my waist. We stared at each other in the dim hallway, both breathing like we’d been running, both wearing identical expressions of shock. His lips were wet and stained with the faint shimmer of my lipstick. His eyes were wild. And for one unguarded moment, Matteo Luca looked exactly as terrified as I felt.

I shoved past him. My shoulder connected with his arm, hard enough to sting, and then I was through my door, slamming it behind me with a force that rattled the frame. I turned the lock. Then the deadbolt before hurrying to the door joining our individual suites with the greater living area. Then I pressed my back against the wood and slid down until I was sitting on the floor, knees pulled to my chest, heart pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears.

I touched my mouth with my fingertips. My lips were swollen, tender where his teeth had caught them. I could still taste him!

On the other side of the door, the one inside, I heard him move to stand just on the other side. I held my breath, wondering if he’d try to force his way inside, or even check to see if I’d locked the door. Instead, after a long moment, I heard him walk away.

I sat on the floor of my beautiful prison and thought about the flash drive hidden in my toiletry bag. And I thought about how Matteo Luca’s mouth had tasted like the most dangerous thing in this house wasn’t the armed guards or the surveillance cameras or the family of men who’d built an empire on blood. They were a ruthless family, but they followed their own code. I’d heard my father complain about it many times even as he thought to use their loyalty against them.

The most dangerous thing was the heat still burning in my chest. The way my body had gone up against something it had no hope of winning. The terrifying, undeniable fact that I had kissed Matteo back. Not because duty demanded it or because I hadn’t had a choice, but because I’d wanted to. I wanted him. And that wanting could get me killed if he decided I plotted against his family with my father.

I pulled my knees tighter to my chest and pressed my forehead against them, breathing slowly until my pulse came down from its gallop. Then I stood, smoothed my dress, and walked to the bathroom to wash his taste from my mouth.

It didn’t work.

Chapter Five

Matteo

The Black Rose’s doorman recognized me immediately, snapping to attention as I stepped out of the car with Sofia on my arm. She wore red tonight, a deep, bloody crimson that hugged every curve like a desperate lover. The dress was modest enough not to look cheap, but cut low enough to make every man’s eyes drift south. Perfect for what I needed from her tonight. She’s passed the charm test at dinner her first night here. After that last, explosive kiss, I’d kept my distance. Dario told me Belle loved Sofia already. Said he kind of liked her himself. My oldest brother could detect bullshit a mile away so maybe I wasn’t thinking with my dick instead of my brain because while my gut told me she hid something from me, I also didn’t think she had malicious intent toward my family. Which, I admit, sounded completely crazy and an oxymoron in the extreme. Anyone hiding something presented a danger.

I kept my hand at the small of her back, fingers splayed possessively against the silk as we moved past the line of people waiting for entry. The gazes of everyone followed us, followed Sofia, and the possessive beast inside me bared its teeth in satisfaction. Let them look. Let them want. Let them understand she belonged to me now.

The casino’s restored Art Deco interior gleamed under crystal chandeliers, black marble floors reflecting fractured light. Jazz music flowed through hidden speakers, just loud enough to provide a background for the conversations all around us without drowning them out. The air carried notes of expensive perfume, aged whiskey, and the subtle scent of money. The Black Rose sat on neutral territory, equidistant from both Luca and Rossi holdings, making it the perfect venue for tonight’s business. Not our establishment, but one where the Luca name still commanded respect.

Sofia moved beside me with practiced grace, her heels clicking gently against the marble. I’d told her what this evening required. I needed charm, beauty, and the clear message that the Marchesi princess had aligned herself with the Luca empire. So far, she played her role flawlessly. Too flawlessly. The perfect posture, the elegant smile warm without inviting conversation unless she engaged it. The way she leaned slightly into my touch when someone approached told me she was a professional at this game. I wondered how many times she’d performed for her father before being handed to me.

“Mr. Russo,” I said, extending my hand to one of our shipping partners. “I’d like you to meet my fiancée, Sofia Marchesi.”

Sofia’s smile bloomed like a perfectly cultivated rose, beautiful but untouchable. “It’s a pleasure,” she said, her voice carrying that musical quality that had caught my attention the first time she spoke. Russo’s eyes lingered on her longer than necessary, and my grip tightened slightly at her waist.

“The pleasure is mine,” Russo replied, finally dragging his gaze back to me. “Congratulations on the engagement. The Marchesi and Luca families united… quite the power move.”

“We’re very happy,” I said flatly, the lie slipping out smoothly. Sofia leaned into me, her body warm against my side, playing her part. She displayed affection without being clingy or overly proprietary, exactly the picture I’d hoped to present.

We moved through the room, stopping to speak with each person on Dario’s list. Key players who needed to know the Marchesis now had the backing of the Lucas. Cesare had debts Dario had agreed to service in exchange for the alliance my marriage with Sofia would represent. Those men needed to know we controlled Cesare now. They needed to see that the Luca family was strengthening its position against the Rossi encroachment as well. With each conversation, I kept Sofia close, my hand never leaving her back, my gaze tracking every man who looked at her for a beat too long when I should have been working the people here as hard as she’d been.

Across the room, I spotted Anthony Rossi with two of his lieutenants. He caught my eye and raised his glass in mock salute. I felt Sofia tense against my palm, so subtle I might have missed it if I hadn’t been hyperaware of her every reaction.

“The Rossis are here,” I murmured against her ear, my lips brushing her skin. To anyone watching, it would look like an intimate whisper between lovers. “Anthony’s by the roulette tables.”

“I know who he is,” Sofia replied softly, her smile never faltering. “My father has done business with him.”

The information registered like a warning bell. Another piece of the puzzle that was Sofia Marchesi. What business had Cesare conducted with the very people he was supposedly helping us fight? I stored the information for later as a waiter approached with a tray of champagne flutes. I also got the impression she’d dropped that little tid-bit on purpose. Yes. We’d definitely be having a conversation later.

Sofia reached for a glass, and I caught the slight tremor in her fingers as they closed around the delicate stem, a crack in her perfect facade. She brought the glass to her lips without drinking, using it as a shield while her gaze scanned the room. In that moment, I recognized something familiar in her, the constant awareness, the careful control of every reaction. We were more alike than I wanted to admit. I just hoped it wasn’t for the same reasons, but I began to think her father might be as evil and twisted as my own.

Judge Winters approached next, his jowled face flushed with expensive Scotch. He was crucial to our operation, handling the occasional legal entanglement that couldn’t be resolved through other channels. He kissed Sofia’s hand, holding it longer than necessary, his eyes roving over her body with undisguised appreciation. I saw the tightening of the delicate skin around Sofia’s eyes and the forced smile. She didn’t like his touch any more than I liked the bastard touching her.

“Matteo, you lucky bastard,” he said, still not releasing Sofia’s hand. “Where have you been hiding this beauty?”

I slid my arm around Sofia’s waist, pulling her firmly against my side. “Some treasures are worth keeping private, Judge.” My voice carried a warning edge that made the older man finally drop Sofia’s hand. “Sofia is my fiancée. We’ll be married next month.”