“Luca is the groom and needs to attend to the guests,” Romero said simply, but of course it was a reprimand in my direction.

Luca’s eyes settled on me the moment I returned to the festivities. Many guests were already drunk, and some had moved up to where the pool was and were taking a swim fully clothed. Luca held his hand out and I bridged the distance between us and took it. “Where were you?”

“I just needed a moment to myself.”

There was no time for further discussions as the cook rolled a table with our wedding cake toward the center. It was white, had six tiers and was decorated with peach flowers. Luca and I cut it under another round of applause, followed by ‘Bacio, Bacio’ and put the first piece onto our plate. Luca picked up a fork and fed me a bit as a sign that he’d provide for me, and I then fed him a piece as a sign that I’d take care of him as a good wife was supposed to.

It was close to midnight when the first shouts rang out that suggested Luca and I retire to the bedroom. “You wed her, now bed her!” Matteo shouted, throwing his arms up and bumping into a chair. He’d drunk his fair share of wine, whiskey, Grappa and whatever else he could get his hands on. Luca, on the other hand, was sober. The small inkling of hope I’d harbored that he’d be too drunk to consummate our marriage evaporated. Luca’s answering grin, all predator, all hunger, all want, made my heart pound in my chest. Soon most of the men and even many women joined in the chorus.

Luca rose from his chair and I did the same, even though I wanted to cling to it with desperate abandon, but I had no choice. A few looks of understanding and compassion from other women were directed my way, but they were almost as bad as the jeering.

Gianna rose from her chair but Mother gripped her upper arm, holding her back. Salvatore Vitiello shouted something about a bed sheet, but the sound and colors seemed dimmed to me, as if I was trapped in fog. Luca’s grip around my hand as he led me toward the house was the only thing keeping me in motion. My body seemed on autopilot. A large crowd, mainly consisting of men, followed after us, their chant of “Bed her, Bed her!” growing louder as we entered the house and ascended the staircase toward the second floor where the master bedroom was. Fear was an insistent throbbing in my chest.

I tasted copper and realized I’d bitten the inside of my cheek hard. We finally arrived in front of the dark wooden double doors of the master bedroom. The men kept clapping Luca’s back and shoulders. Nobody touched me. I would have wilted if they had. Luca opened the door and I walked in, glad to bring some distance between the leering crowd and myself. The shouting rang in my head and it was all I could do not to clamp my hands over my ears. “Bed her! Bed her!”

Luca slammed the door shut. Now we were alone for our wedding night.

CHAPTER SIX

The commotion in front of the door stopped except for Matteo who was still shouting lewd suggestions of what Luca could do to me, or I to him.

“Shut up, Matteo, and go find a whore to fuck,” Luca shouted.

Silence reigned outside. My eyes wandered toward the king-sized bed in the center of the room and terror gripped me. Luca had his own whore to fuck tonight and until the end of days. The price for my body hadn’t been paid in money, but it might as well have been. I wrapped my arms around my middle, trying to quench my panic.

Luca turned around to me with a predatory look on his face. My legs turned weak. Maybe if I fainted, I’d be spared, and even if he didn’t care if I was conscious and took me anyway, at least I wouldn’t remember anything. He thrust his jacket over the armchair next to the window, the muscles in his forearms flexing. He was muscle and strength and power, and I might as well have been made from glass. One wrong touch and I would shatter.

Luca took his time admiring me. Wherever his eyes touched my body, they branded me as his possession, the word ‘mine’ edged into my skin over and over again.

“When my father told me I was to marry you, he said you were the most beautiful woman the Chicago Outfit had to offer, even more beautiful than the woman in New York.”

To offer? As if I was a piece of meat. I dug my teeth into my tongue.

“I didn’t believe him.” He stalked up to me and grabbed my waist. I swallowed the gasp and forced myself to be still as I stared at his chest. Why did he have to be so tall? He leaned down until his mouth was less than an inch from my throat. “But he told the truth. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and tonight you are mine.” His hot lips touched my skin. Could he feel the terror pounding in my veins? His hands on my waist tightened. Tears pressed against my eyeballs, but I forced them back. I wouldn’t cry, but Grace’s words slammed into my brain. He’ll fuck you bloody.

Be strong. I was a Scuderi. Gianna’s words flashed in my mind. Don’t let him treat you like a whore.

“No!” The word ripped from my throat like a battle cry. I wrenched myself away from him, stumbling a few steps back. Everything seemed to still then. What had I just done?

Luca’s expression was stunned, then it hardened. “No?”

“What?” I snapped. “Have you never heard the word ‘no’ before?” Shut up, Aria. For God’s sake shut up.

“Oh, I hear it often. The guy whose throat I crushed he said it over and over and over again until he couldn’t say it anymore.”

I took a step back, bristling. “So you’re going to crush my throat too?” I was like a cornered dog, biting and snapping, but my opponent was a wolf. A very big and dangerous wolf.

A cold smile twisted his lips. “No, that would defy the purpose of our marriage, don’t you think?”

I shuddered. Of course, it would. He couldn’t kill me. At least not if he wanted to maintain peace between Chicago and New York. That didn’t mean he couldn’t beat or force himself on me. “I don’t think 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.”