First Comes Blood by Lilith Vincent

12

Chiara

Ten months later

“Yes, yes, yes,” Candace breathes, her face alight with wonder. “The satin. The lace. It’s perfect.”

I glance between her face and mine in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors. We’re standing on the plush cream carpet of Coldlake’s most prestigious bridal boutique. Sophia and a store assistant are fanning out my skirt while Candace flutters about us in excitement. Anyone would think she was the one getting married. Come to think of it, she should be the one marrying Salvatore. Her family practically worships him.

Rosaline is reclined on a chaise lounge in a cloud of lilac tulle and sipping free champagne. I guess no one cares that we’re all barely or not quite eighteen when I’m marrying Salvatore Fiore. All three girls are wearing their bridesmaid gowns, midi dresses in pastel colors. This is the final fitting before the wedding next week.

“Babe, you look amazing,” Rosaline says after another mouthful of champagne. “Mr. Fiore is going to fall even harder the moment he lays eyes on you.”

Only I know that Salvatore can’t stand to look at me. He made all the wedding arrangements, including choosing this dress, without even one phone call to me. I suspect that Ginevra made most of the decisions as she’s been the one coming to see me, radiantly happy with her six-month baby bump.

“Is Mr. Fiore excited?” Sophia asks.

A pang goes through me. I swallow, feeling strangely desolate as I confess, “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him in months.”

Ten months, to be exact. I haven’t seen Salvatore in the flesh since Ginevra’s wedding. I suppose he was so disgusted that I was going to give my virginity away to a stranger that he can’t bear to be near me. At first I was so angry with him that I didn’t care, but as the months dragged on…

I missed him.

I shouldn’t yearn for Salvatore Fiore, or search for him in the news or in expensive cars as they drive by. But I do.

Candace nods in sympathy. “I’ve heard he’s fiendishly busy. Don’t take it personally.

Rosaline screws up her nose. “Are you serious? How can she not take it personally? What a dick.”

Everyone turns to her with shocked expressions, including the store assistant. Sophia strides over, snatches the glass of champagne from Rosaline and pours it into a potted plant.

“Hey! I was drinking that.”

“You’ve had enough.”

I take a last look at myself in the mirror, my nerves in a snarl. I suppose it’s normal to feel nervous before a wedding, but there’s nothing normal about my marriage to one of the most notorious men in Coldlake. There’s nothing normal about the almost indetectable lump in the back of my neck, either. Ten months later, the humiliation still burns.

How I hate my father. Once I’m married, I’m never going to speak to him or look at him again.

“I’ll have everything sent around to your home tomorrow,” the assistant tells me with a smile. “And happy birthday for tomorrow, Miss Romano.”

My stomach lurches as the girls kiss me goodbye and I get into the waiting car alone. I’m not allowed to go anywhere unless it’s with the driver that Dad pays for. I’m dreading my birthday tomorrow. One whole year since Mom was killed, and it’s beginning to feel like she never existed. It’s rare that anyone talks about her to me. If Dad skates close to the subject then I feel like I’m going to throw up.

My hatred for Dad burns.

As the sun sets on another awful day, I pace around and around the house, my head full of last year and my heart in turmoil. The evening is warm and my restlessness is making moisture bead on my top lip. I don’t know how I’m going to sleep at all tonight. All I can picture is Salvatore’s fists as he beat that Geak to death. I wish I were strong so I could sink my fist into Dad’s stomach and watch the color drain from his face.

Then suddenly, Salvatore’s there.

He strides across the dining room toward me, looking as breathtaking as he did the very first time I laid eyes on him. I open my mouth to speak. Before I can utter a word, he takes my face between his hands and his lips descend on mine in a hungry kiss. There’s only Salvatore, and I’m breathing him into my heart and opening my mouth so he can taste me.

He pulls away and whispers against my mouth. “I couldn’t stay away. I kept thinking about what happened last year.”

So many things happened last year. “What were you thinking about?”

Salvatore frowns, puzzled by why I’m puzzled. “Your mom. I know it didn’t happen until tomorrow, but today must be just as hard for you.”

Tears sting my eyes and I throw my arms around his neck. My heart gives a painful, grateful double-thump. When Ophelia died, was everyone reluctant to speak her name, too? Does he feel the anniversary of the moment of her death drawing nearer every year?

“This day last year was my last happy day with her,” I whisper.

Salvatore strokes my hair and kisses behind my ear. I glance at the clock on the wall. Nearly thirty minutes past eleven.

Tick tock.

I draw back from him, but keep my arms around his neck. “Can you get me out of here for an hour? I don’t care where, but I don’t want to be here when—” But my throat locks up.

When the minute hand ticks over and it’s finally my birthday.

Salvatore strokes my cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Of course, baby.”

Taking a firm grip on my hand, he starts walking toward the front door and calls out to my father, “We’ll be back in an hour, Mayor Romano.”

Dad appears in the hallway wearing a frown. “At this hour?”

“Chiara wants some fresh air.”

He doesn’t look happy but he glances at his watch and goes back into the lounge. “One hour, Fiore.”

Wherever we go, Dad will be able to track our movements online by following the blue dot on his computer or phone screen. Sometimes when I’m out I swear I can feel the pressure of his hateful gaze.

In Salvatore’s car, we drive in silence for several minutes, and then he reaches out to take my hand. “Where would you like to go?”

“Anywhere. I don’t care.”

We only have an hour so it’s not like we can go far. Salvatore takes a left on a street that winds up into the Lincoln Hills. It’s an old part of town and the houses are huge and expensive and the streets are quiet, especially this late at night. He parks at the top at the lookout over the city.

He cuts the engine and turns to me. I can just make out his face in the darkness.

“Salvatore, why have you been avoiding me?”

He touches my face. “I thought it would be easier, but it’s not.”

“Can I ask what you think of me?”

“I think you’re going to be a troublesome wife.” But he’s smiling as he says it.

It’s more deflection than answer, but I don’t push him because I only asked the question so I can answer it. “You’re not who I would have chosen as a husband. This isn’t the life I would choose for myself, but here we are. If you believe you’re worthy of it, I think I could grow to love you.”

He raises one eyebrow, as if the idea of not being worthy of something has never occurred to him. “Worthy?”

“You’re full of fear. Full of hate. Full of ambition. There isn’t room for love in your heart with all that crowded inside.”

A shadow slips over his expression, but he seems to shake it off and gives me a charming smile. “Baby, you’re worried about my heart?”

He kisses me, and slides a hand up my sundress. His questing fingers brush my inner thighs.

“Salvatore. I’m still seventeen.”

“You little goody-goody. You’re only seventeen for…seven more minutes.” Salvatore glances at the clock and then slides one strap of my dress down and then the other. “We’ll be officially engaged tomorrow. You’ll be my wife in one week.” He leans down and sucks one of my nipples into his mouth, and then the other.

I can’t find it in me to resist when his touch is sending fireworks through me.

He scoops my breasts together and runs his tongue across them both. “Fuck, baby. You’re soft as butter. What were we talking about?”

My eyes are closed, I have one hand braced against the roof of his car and my heels are lifting off the floor. I have no idea.

He tests one of my nipples with his teeth. “Oh, yes. You becoming my wife. You will honor the Fiore name when it becomes yours. You will be obedient. Respectful. Beautiful.” He sucks my nipple slowly and then lets it go. “But that last one will be easy for you, won’t it,baby?”

Obedient. Respectful. Beautiful. Oh, piss off. “If I want to lie around in sweats with tangled hair and talk back to you after we’re married, then I will.”

He tugs my dress down to my waist and pushes my thighs apart. I glance out the windows at the surrounding park. There are no other cars. No movement.

“There’s only one way this goes,” he says, sliding two fingers against my clit over my underwear. “You’ll be my wife and do as I say.”

He slides down with his fingers, and then up with his nails. They scrape over the wet fabric, the vibrations coursing through me.

“And if I—ahhh.” I open one eye and peer at the dash. “It’s still five minutes to midnight.”

Salvatore grasps my underwear and pulls them down my legs. “Fuck midnight. I want to feel your pussy.”

When he starts circling my clit I let my legs fall open and give in. I’ve made myself come thinking about Salvatore, more than once. I crave to know what the real thing feels like.

“And if I don’t do as you say?” I pant.

“I gave you a taste of the man I can be when I lose my temper on your last birthday. You never have to see that man again. It’s your choice.”

“I’m not going to live in fear of you.”

“Chiara, if you keep talking back, I will fucking ruin your orgasm,” he growls through his teeth.

Ruin my orgasm? What does that even mean? “I’m not scared of you.”

“You should be.” Salvatore rubs my clit in firm circles, exactly the right pressure and tempo to have me panting and seeing stars. I press my fist against the car ceiling and give into what he’s doing, suddenly not caring if there are a hundred people staring in at me with my legs splayed open and my breasts bare.

“Screw you,” I moan. Just as my head tips back and the warm, golden sensations start to cascade through me, Salvatore takes his fingers away.

My deep breathing becomes a strangled cry. I was so close. My hand dives toward my clit but Salvatore grabs my wrist in an iron grip.

“Why did you—” I screw my eyes up tight and groan as the powerful orgasm that he was about to unleash on me warps into something harsh and unsatisfying and fizzles out. “That feels horr—”

Smack.

“Ow!” My eyes fly open. To add insult to ruined orgasm, Salvatore just spanked my pussy. I struggle to close my legs but he won’t let me, and spanks me again.

“What the hell! Stop that.”

“Happy birthday, baby.”

He keeps spanking my pussy and it makes wet, smacking sounds. He’s not hitting me hard but I’m over-sensitized and tender and every smack makes my body jerk in the car seat.

“Stop that—it’s not—you’re too—Salvatore!” Smack. Smack. Smack.

“I’m too what? Too mean? Too cruel? This is the man you’re marrying. Get used to him.”

Smack.

My frustrated orgasm is loitering deep in my core, and each strike of his fingers perversely makes it grow. I won’t come like this, while he’s being such an asshole. I won’t give him the satisfaction of punishing me and then witnessing how much I like it.

I glare into his blue-green eyes, only to find him smiling wickedly back at me. I’m trapped and there’s nowhere for me to go as he keeps smacking me. Nowhere for the sensations in my clit to go as they gather rapidly and infuriatingly into a—

“Fuck you, Salvatore,” I scream, and come harder than I ever have in my life.

I collapse back against the seat, gasping for breath. Salvatore finally releases me and I look down at myself. Naked from the waist up. Dress rucked up to my hips. Underwear gone, exposing me. And to top it all off, my insides are red-raw from the way he’s scrambled them with his fucked-up dirty talk and cruel fingers.

Salvatore kisses me hard and then starts the engine. “Damn, you’re incredible, baby. I can’t wait to marry you.”

* * *

“Oh,Chiara. Your mother would be so proud. It’s exactly what she would have done.” Francesca turns away from the decorated dining table and regards me with misty eyes.

It’s not exactly how Mom would have done it. The napkins and table centerpiece are in white and pale blue, not black and gold like my father prefers. It’s the way she would have wanted it, and that’s what’s important.

“Thank you. I’m going to miss you so much.” I wrap my arms around the old cook and squeeze her tight. The only things I’ll miss about this house are the reminders of my mother, and Francesca, Violette and Stephan. Maybe once I’m settled in Salvatore’s house I can hire these three so there are some familiar faces around me.

In Salvatore’s house. As Salvatore’s wife. My future is rushing toward me at breakneck speed.

Francesca kisses my cheek and leaves me standing by the dining table. A few minutes later, Dad joins me, wearing his tuxedo. I’m dressed in baby blue, which was my mother’s favorite color. Dad glances at the knee-length dress and his mouth thins into an unpleasant line, but he doesn’t say anything.

We wait in silence for Salvatore’s arrival. Soon Dad will be rid of me, and then he and Salvatore can indulge in whatever cozy business and crime adventures they want to go on together.

There’s a knock at the door, and we hear Violette open it. For a moment I think I hear four sets of feet coming down the hall, but it’s merely an echo in my mind. Salvatore and Salvatore alone comes through the door, tall and broad shouldered in his suit, his hair swept back and a cocky smile on his lips.

A smile just for me.

He looks only at me as he walks across the room, takes me in his arms and kisses me like I really am the reason he’s here.

Dad and Salvatore do most of the talking over dinner. They discuss the guest list for the wedding, and it sounds like every important person in Coldlake will be there to watch me walk down the aisle. Dad’s expression is brimming with delight as he recites names and I can almost see the votes stacking up inside his head.

When the meal is over, we all stand up and Salvatore takes my hand. Turning to Dad, he says, “Will you give Chiara and I a moment? I have something for her.”

Salvatore leads me into the lounge and closes the door. We’re standing in the middle of the carpet, and he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a black velvet box. He opens it, revealing a platinum engagement ring with an enormous emerald-cut diamond, surrounded by a cluster of smaller diamonds.

Salvatore grasps my left hand and slides the diamond onto my ring finger. “Now, the whole world will know you belong to me.”

I turn my hand this way and that, watching the diamond sparkle. I hear again Salvatore’s footsteps coming down the hall tonight. There was something strange about the way they sounded.

Hollow.

They sounded hollow, and alone.

“You’ve been played and you don’t even realize it.”

Salvatore’s gaze narrows. “Excuse me?”

“It’s so obvious that even naïve, stupid little me can see it. You think you’ve won, but really, you’ve lost. The four of you together were a threat to my father’s power. At least the other three have stuck together. You’ve been peeled off from the herd and now Dad’s going to use you however he wants.”

“Is that so?” Salvatore asks, his voice quiet and dangerous. “If you’re so clever, how is it you’re poking me like a bear when there’s no one here to protect you from me?”

“I didn’t say I was clever. I said I was stupid.”

“So you did. After what I warned you about last night, I have to agree with you.” He grabs me by the throat and squeezes, anger sparking in his eyes. “I’m starting to think you mouth off because making me angry makes you wet.”

He puts his hand on my shoulder and shoves me to my knees. Maybe he’s right. Or maybe I’ll learn to be afraid of him, but right now, all I’m anticipating is what he’ll do next.

Salvatore grips the hair at the back of my head. “I’ve been obsessed with your mouth from the moment I saw you. Now open up and show me what it can do.”

There’s a bulge at the front of his pants and I reach up and touch him. So, that’s what he feels like, thick and hard beneath the layers of fabric. I rub him back and forth, watching the pleasure flicker over his face. “Is this how you’re going to shut me up for telling the truth? By shoving your cock in my mouth?”

“It’s worth a fucking try.” He unzips his pants, grips his cock and draws it out. With his other hand he pulls my hair, making me gasp. As soon as my mouth is open, he shoves himself inside.

“Let me tell you something,” he growls, pumping his hips back and forth and making me gag. “If you wanted out of this marriage, you would have found a way by now.”

I try to pull away so I can argue with him but he holds me tighter and fucks deeper.

“That’s it, suck. Open your throat. You’re a prisoner and you always will be. Not because I’m making you a prisoner. Because you want to be one.”

I fight him harder but his grip on my hair is merciless. All I can do is focus on my breathing as tears leak from my eyes.

“God, I can’t wait to hold you down and fuck you when you’re as angry as this. I bet you’re so…fucking…delicious.” With each word he thrusts further into my mouth and then he groans and his cock spasms. My mouth is flooded with his come and I swallow him down before I choke.

He squeezes my throat and growls, “You’re beautiful like your mother, and you’re going to end up like her, too. That mouth of yours is going to be the end of you.”

He lets me go, and I fall in a heap on the floor with my hand over my mouth, feeling like he’s struck me across the face.

“Fuck you,” I whisper, my shoulders shaking.

“I thought we were dishing out hard truths,” he growls, tucking his shirt back in his pants and zipping them up. He smooths his hair and his jacket and casts one last look at me. “Goodbye, Chiara. I’ll see you at the wedding.”

I feel Mom’s presence hovering over me, and her heart is breaking. This is what she died for, to see me brought to my knees by a man who can be crueler even than my murderous father.

I stare at the diamond ring on my finger.He’ll see me at the wedding?

Over my dead body.

I get to my feet and wipe the tears from my face. As the front door slams, I walk out into the hall and downstairs to the kitchen. I’ve let most of this year pass in a blur of fear and confusion, but it’s not too late to thwart Dad and Salvatore. I can defy them even with a chip in my neck and just a week until the wedding date.

Salvatore’s given me one last chance.

Francesca, Stephan, and Violette look up in surprise as I burst into the kitchen.

The old cook wipes her hands on her apron and comes toward me. “Chiara? What’s wrong?”

I pull my engagement ring off and hold it up, looking between all three of them. “I need to get a message to someone. Will any of you help me?”