Born in Blood Collection Volume 1 - Cora Reilly Page 0,73

collided almost painfully, but I clutched her to my chest tightly. “I’m so glad you’re here,” I whispered.

She nodded, then pulled back, searching my face. “No visible bruises,” she said loudly, her gaze darting behind me toward Luca. “You only hit places that are covered by clothes?”

I gripped her hand and gave her a warning look.

“Get your luggage,” Luca ordered. “I don’t want to stand here all night.”

Gianna glared at him but retrieved her trolley and returned to us. “A gentleman would have got it for me.”

“A gentleman, yes,” Luca said with a tight smile.

We walked back to our car, my arm linked with Gianna’s. Luca walked a few steps ahead and got behind the steering wheel without a word.

“What’s the matter with him? He’s even more of an asshole than I remember.”

“I think the Russians are giving him trouble.”

“Aren’t they always?” Gianna put her trolley into the trunk of the car before we both sat in the backseat.

Luca raised his eyebrows at me. “I’m not your driver. Get in the front with me.”

I was taken aback by his harshness, but I did as he said and sat shotgun. Gianna’s face was scrunched up with anger. “You shouldn’t talk to her like that.”

“She’s my wife. I can do and say to her what I want.”

I frowned. Luca turned to me, meeting my gaze. I couldn’t place the look in his eyes. He turned back to the street.

“How are Lily and Fabi?”

“Annoying as hell. Especially Lily. She doesn’t stop talking about Romero. She’s in love with him.”

I laughed, and even Luca’s lips twitched. I wasn’t sure why but I reached out and put my hand on his leg. His eyes snapped toward me briefly, then he covered my hand with his until he needed it to shift gears again. Gianna’s eyes were attentive as they watched. She’d bombard me with questions the moment we were alone, no doubt.

* * *

When we stepped into the apartment, the smell of roasted lamb and rosemary wafted over to us.

“I told Marianna to prepare a nice dinner,” Luca said. Gianna’s red eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“Thank you,” I said.

Luca nodded. “Show your sister to her room and then we can eat.” He was still withdrawn and stiff. I watched him head around the corner toward the kitchen area.

I showed Gianna her guest room, but she quickly pulled me inside and closed the door. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. I told you on the phone. I’m fine.”

“I prefer to hear you say it when I can see your face.”

“I’m not lying to you, Gianna.”

She gripped my hand. “Did he force you to sleep with him?”

“No, he didn’t. And I haven’t.”

Her eyes widened. “But something happened between the two of you. I want details.”

I pulled away. “We need to have dinner now. Marianna will be mad if the food gets cold. We can talk tomorrow when Luca’s busy with business.”

“Tomorrow,” Gianna said firmly.

I opened the door and led her toward the dining area. Her eyes took everything in, then became slits when she saw who else would be having dinner with us: Matteo. He and Luca stood beside the table, discussing something, but stepped apart when they noticed us.

“What’s he doing here?” Gianna said, her nose wrinkled.

Flashing his shark grin, Matteo walked toward her and gripped her hand to kiss it. “Nice to see you again, Gianna.”

Gianna snatched her hand away. “Don’t touch me.”

She needed to stop provoking him; he liked it way too much. Luca and I sat beside each other and Matteo beside Gianna. I wasn’t sure that was the best decision. I glanced at Luca, but his cautious gaze rested on his brother and my sister.

Marianna bustled in, serving roast lamb, rosemary potatoes and green beans. We ate in silence for a while until Gianna couldn’t hold her tongue anymore. “Why did you crush that guy’s throat?”

I put my fork down, expecting Luca to explode, but he only leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.

Gianna huffed. “Come on. It can’t be that big of a secret. You got your nickname for it.”

Matteo grinned. “The Vice is a nice name.”

Luca shook his head. “I hate it.”

“You earned it,” Matteo said. “Now tell them the story or I will.”

I’d been curious about it for a while. Nobody from the Chicago mob wanted to give me details, and I hadn’t dared to ask Romero yet.

“I was seventeen,” Luca began. “Our father has many brothers and sisters, and one of my cousins climbed the ranks