Born in Blood Collection Volume 1: Collection of books 1-4

his shoulder. “He’s not a guest. He wants to steal you away, Aria.”
Matteo chuckled. “This is too good. I’m glad Father convinced me to come.”
“Ordered you,” Luca corrected, but he didn’t take his eyes off of me. I couldn’t return his gaze. My cheeks blazed with heat at his scrutiny. My father and his bodyguards made sure that Gianna, Lily and I weren’t around men very often, and the ones he let near us were either relatives or ancient. Luca was neither family, nor old. He was only five years older than me, but he looked like a man and made me feel like a small girl in comparison.
Luca let go of Fabiano and I pulled him toward me, his back against my legs. I folded my hands over his small heaving chest. He didn’t stop glaring at Luca. I wished I had his courage, but he was a boy, an heir to my father’s title. He wouldn’t be forced to obey anyone, except for the Boss. He could afford courage.
“I’m sorry,” I said, even if the words tasted foul. “My brother didn’t mean to be disrespectful.”
“I did!” Fabiano shouted. I covered his mouth with my palm and he squirmed in my hold, but I didn’t let him go.
“Don’t apologize,” Gianna said sharply, ignoring the warning look I shot her. “It’s not our fault that he and his bodyguards take up so much room in the corridor. At least Fabiano speaks the truth. Everyone else thinks they need to blow sugar up his ass because he’s going to be Capo—”
“Gianna!” My voice was like a whip. She snapped her lips shut, staring at me with wide eyes. “Take Lily and Fabiano to their rooms. Now.”
“But—” She glanced behind me. I was glad I couldn’t see Luca’s expression.
“Now!”
She grabbed Fabiano’s hand and dragged him and Lily away. I didn’t think my first encounter with my future husband could possibly have gone any worse. Bracing myself, I faced him and his men. I expected to be greeted by fury, but I found a smirk on Luca’s face instead. My cheeks were burning with embarrassment, and now that I was alone with the three men, nerves twisted my stomach. Mother would freak out if she found out I wasn’t dressed up for my first meeting with Luca. I was wearing one of my favorite maxi dresses with sleeves that reached my elbows, and I was silently glad for the protection all the fabric offered me. I folded my arms in front of my body, unsure of what to do. “I apologize for my sister and brother. They are—” I struggled for a word other than rude.
“Protective of you,” Luca said simply. His voice was even, deep, emotionless. “This is my brother Matteo.”
Matteo’s lips were pulled into a wide grin. I was glad he didn’t try to take my hand. I didn’t think I could have kept my composure if either of them had moved any closer. “And this is my right hand, Cesare.” Cesare gave me the briefest nod before he returned to his task of scanning the corridor. What was he waiting for? We didn’t have assassins stashed in secret trap doors.
I focused on Luca’s chin and hoped it appeared as if I was actually looking at his eyes. I took a step back. “I should go to my siblings.”
Luca had a knowing expression on his face, but I didn’t care if he saw how uncomfortable, how scared he made me. Not waiting for him to excuse me—he wasn’t my husband nor my fiancé yet—I turned and quickly walked off, proud that I hadn’t given in to the urge to run.
* * *
Mother tugged at the dress Father had chosen for the occasion. For the meat show, as Gianna called it. No matter how much Mother tugged, though, the dress didn’t get any longer. I stared at myself in the mirror uncertainly. I’d never worn anything this revealing. The black dress clung to my butt and waist and ended at my upper thighs; the top was a glittery golden bustier with black tulle straps. “I can’t wear this, Mother.”
Mother met my gaze in the mirror. Her blonde hair was pinned up; it was a few shades darker than mine. She was wearing a floor-length elegant dress. I wished I was allowed something that modest. “You look like a woman,” she whispered.
I cringed. “I look like a hooker.”
“Hookers can’t afford a dress like that.”
Father’s mistress had clothes that cost more than some people spent on a car. Mother put her hands on my waist. “You have a wasp waist, and the dress makes your legs look very long. I’m sure Luca will appreciate it.”
I stared down at my cleavage. I had small breasts; even the push-up effect of the bustier couldn’t change that. I was a fifteen-year-old dressed up to look like a woman.
“Here.” Mother handed me five-inch black heels. Maybe I’d reach Luca’s chin when I wore them. I slipped into them. Mother forced her fake smile onto her face and smoothed down my long hair. “Hold your head high. Fiore Cavallaro called you the most beautiful woman of Chicago. Show Luca and his entourage that you are more beautiful than any women in New York too. After all, Luca knows almost all of them.” The way she said it, I was sure she’d read the articles about Luca’s conquests as well, or maybe Father had told her something.
“Mother,” I said hesitantly, but she stepped back.
“Now go. I’ll come after you, but this is your day. You should enter the room alone. The men will be waiting. Your father will present you to Luca, and then we’ll all come together in the dining room for dinner.” She’d told me this dozens of times already.
For a moment, I wanted to take her hand and beg her to accompany me; instead I turned and walked out of my room. I was glad that my mother had forced me to wear heels in the