Page 14 of Wicked Bloodlines

I shifted position slightly, needing to see Sofia’s face. Her expression was a perfect mask, revealing nothing, but her body was rigid with tension. Cesare reached into his jacket pocket and extracted a burner phone.

“Take this,” he ordered. “You will check-in using that phone every day. I expect useful information. You can take pictures on that phone so I expect those too. Anything we can use against the Lucas.”

Sofia didn’t move to take the phone. “You’re asking me to betray the family I’m marrying into.”

“I’m telling you to obey your father.” Cesare grabbed her wrist, attempting to force the phone into her hand.

Sofia pulled back, a decisive movement that spoke volumes. “No. I won’t.”

The crack of his palm against her cheek echoed down the hallway. Sofia’s head snapped to the side from the force of the blow, her hair falling across her face. My vision tunneled, blood rushing in my ears as primal violence roared to life inside me.

I crossed the distance in three long strides, catching Cesare’s wrist as he raised his hand for a second strike. I squeezed hard enough to feel the bones grind together, my grip a vise that made the older man wince.

“The Lucas don’t allow their women to be touched like that,” I said, my voice deadly quiet, each word carved from ice. “Not by anyone. Including ourselves.”

Cesare’s eyes widened, first in shock, then in carefully calculated outrage. “This is a private family matter, Luca. Between me and my daughter.”

“Your daughter wears my ring,” I tightened my grip another fraction, satisfaction blooming dark and hot as Cesare failed to suppress a grimace of pain. “That makes this matter — and Sofia — very much my business.”

Sofia stood frozen beside us, one hand pressed to her reddening cheek, her eyes darting between me and her father. I could read the panic racing behind those amber eyes, assessing which man presented the greater danger to her.

Cesare twisted his wrist, trying to break my hold. I released him abruptly, causing him to stumble back a step before catching himself. He straightened his jacket with an attempt at dignity, pulling down his cuffs in a gesture meant to regain control of the situation.

“You forget yourself, Matteo,” he said, his voice pitched low enough that it wouldn’t carry to the main floor. “Sofia remains my daughter regardless of your… arrangement. I have certain rights—”

“You have nothing,” I cut him off, stepping closer until I loomed over him. “She’s a Luca now. You gave her to me so this is your own doing. Remember that and you might live long enough to enjoy the money we paid for your connections. And your daughter.”

The words hung between us. Sofia wasn’t truly a Luca yet, the wedding was still weeks away, but in this world, possession was established by declaration backed by force. My ring established the former. Killing the old bastard would satisfy the latter. I had to remind myself of the reasons that wouldn’t be my best solution.

Cesare’s face hardened, that aristocratic mask slipping just enough to reveal the desperation beneath. “You think you understand what’s happening, but you don’t. There are forces at play—”

“Leave,” I said simply. “Now. Before I forget that you’re supposedly our ally.”

For a moment, I thought he might push back, might force a confrontation that would destroy the careful alliance Dario had constructed. Instead, calculation replaced anger in his eyes. He glanced at Sofia, a venomous look.

“We’ll speak again soon, my dear,” he said, his voice softening to something almost paternal, though the threat beneath it remained unmistakable.

Sofia said nothing, her face a perfect mask once more. Only the rising reddish bruise on her cheek betrayed what had happened. Cesare turned and walked away, his posture rigid with injured pride. I watched until he disappeared around the corner before turning my attention back to Sofia. She stood unnaturally still, her breathing shallow, eyes fixed on some middle distance as though looking at nothing. The sight triggered something uncomfortable in my chest.

“Did he hurt you anywhere else?” I asked, my voice rougher than I intended.

Her gaze snapped to mine, surprise flickering briefly before disappearing behind her careful composure. “I’m fine.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“No,” she said after a pause. “Just my face.”

I reached out, gently tilting her chin with my fingertips to examine the mark. Her skin felt hot beneath my touch, the imprint of her father’s hand already darkening to a bruise. Something ugly twisted in my gut. I couldn’t stop myself from brushing my thumb lightly underneath where the bruise formed.

“He won’t touch you again.” The promise emerging from some place I hadn’t known existed. “Not while you’re with me.”

Sofia studied me. Whatever she saw made her shoulders drop a fraction, the first genuine reaction I’d witnessed from her all evening. “Protection and possession,” she murmured, so softly I barely caught the words. “Two sides of the same coin.”

She was right, and we both knew it. I wasn’t protecting her out of the goodness of my heart. I was protecting what belonged to me, to my family. But the fierce, primitive satisfaction I’d felt putting Cesare in his place suggested my feelings might be more complicated than I wanted to admit.

“Come on,” I said, placing my hand at the small of her back again, gentler this time. “We need somewhere private to talk.”

I guided Sofia through the main casino floor, my hand firm against the small of her back. We moved with purpose, ignoring the curious glances that followed us. The bruise blooming on Sofia’s cheek had already sparked whispers. In our world, marked women were either victims or warnings. Sometimes both. I needed to get her somewhere private before speculation could take root.