Luca Vitiello by Cora Reilly

CHAPTER 23

I avoided Aria over the next three days, hoping that my feelings would wane if I kept my distance, but they didn’t. It was torture, lying beside her at night without kissing and touching her, but even worse was not seeing her smile.

I spent even more time in the Sphere, determined to drive Aria out of my system with sheer work overload, but even that wasn’t working. Matteo and I were on our way back home when Cesare called. I knew at once that something was wrong. I’d seen him only two hours ago for a quick fight workout. If there was something he had to say, he could have done it then.

I picked up.

“The Bratva shot your father,” Cesare grunted, sounding out of breath.

For a moment, I was sure I hadn’t heard him right. Only Matteo’s wide-eyed stare confirmed the words.

“What?”

“He was out with his mistress and was hit by several bullets. I’m on my way there. It’s in his favorite restaurant. He’s still alive. The Doc will be there in a few minutes. Should I call an ambulance?”

“No ambulance. You know the rules,” I said then hung up. I jerked the steering wheel around and did a U-turn before hitting the gas and speeding toward the restaurant.

“Fuck,” Matteo breathed. “Maybe that’s it. Maybe someone took him off our hands.”

“He’s not dead yet,” I gritted out. “And the Bratva are the last people I want involved in his death. They’ll get overconfident.”

We arrived at the restaurant within five minutes. I jumped out of the car. A few men were gathered inside and outside the restaurant, most of them soldiers who lived close by. The police hadn’t arrived yet. Everyone in this area knew what kind of restaurant this was. Calling the police was out of the question. I jogged into the restaurant. The Famiglia soldiers had their guns pulled, and Cesare stood beside the Doc who was bent over Father. The ground was covered with broken glass and blood.

A young woman with a hole in her forehead was sprawled out beside an overturned chair.

Matteo and I headed for our father. The Doc was pressing down on a wound in Father’s stomach while his assistant held up a transfusion bag. Father was clutching the Doc’s arm in a desperate grip, sucking in one rattling breath after the other, and staring at us wide-eyed. For as long as I could remember, I’d wondered how it would feel to see my father like this, to watch him taking his last breaths. Occasionally I’d feared I’d feel regret or sadness, but there was nothing. Only relief.

I knelt beside him and Matteo on his other side.

“I can’t help him. If we call an ambulance, he might survive,” Doc said, his weathered wrinkly face solemn.

Father grasped my hand, bulging eyes on me, begging me. Didn’t he remember how he’d beaten and cut any hint of compassion out of me? He was trying to say something. I leaned down. “H-hospital…take me…take me hospital.”

I met his gaze and gave a nod, then I turned to the Doc, motioning for him to stand. He staggered to his feet and so did his assistant.

“Leave and tell the others,” I told them. “Father doesn’t want his men to witness his last moments. He wants to be remembered as the strong Capo that he was.”

Doc and his assistant headed toward the front of the restaurant. From the corner of my eye, I caught Matteo pressing down on a wound in Father’s side to stop the words he wanted to say and turn them into a pained gurgle. He wouldn’t be saved tonight.

The remaining men left with bowed heads until only Matteo and I remained with our father. I got down on my knees beside them again.

Father gasped in a ragged breath, growing paler and paler. “You…you traitorous….”

Matteo ripped the transfusion needle out and we both bent over our father. The man who’d tortured us and his wives, who’d driven our mother into suicide, he’d finally disappear.

“We would have killed you with poison soon. It would have been painless,” Matteo murmured, then paused with a twisted grin as he regarded the bullet wound in Father’s stomach. “I prefer it like this. With your last moments filled with agony.”

Father sucked in a rattling breath. He tried to move, to look for help, but Matteo and I barred everyone’s view, and I doubted anyone was even watching. They were giving us time to say goodbye. “That whore set you up to this…”

For a moment I thought he meant Nina, but then it dawned on me whom he was talking about: Aria.

“Lead you around by your dick,” he spat in disgust. “Wish…wish I’d fucked her before you.”

I leaned even closer to him and shoved one of my fingers into the wound in his stomach as fury consumed my veins in a raging fire. Matteo pressed a palm over his mouth to stifle the screams.

“You won’t ever touch my wife, Father. Aria’s a queen, and I’ll treat her like one. I won’t be like you. Your legacy dies today. Matteo and I will make sure of it.”

Father’s chest heaved more and more, and blood trickled out between Matteo’s fingers still pressed against Father’s mouth.

“I’ll tell Nina you suffered through your last minutes. She’ll be ecstatic to hear it. Maybe Matteo and I will toast your death with her with your favorite bottle of wine,” I growled. Father’s eyes bulged and he convulsed and then went still. I pulled my finger out of his wound and Matteo released his mouth, and for a moment everything was silent.

Matteo’s and my eyes met, our hands covered with our father’s blood. Matteo gripped my shoulder. “He’s gone.”

Gone. Finally gone from our lives.

My eyes took in the mess in the restaurant. Bullets from Russian guns littered the ground. “A traitor must have told the Bratva where to find him. Very few people knew.”

“Probably one of our uncles.”

“Probably. The question is how many men were involved beside them, and how to prove it.”

“We—“

“Down!” Cesare screamed. Shots rang out. Matteo and I dropped to the ground as bullets barreled through the restaurant. I pulled my gun as I crawled toward the bar. Matteo was close beside me. Outside, my men were shouting and firing.

Peering out behind the bar, I tried to make out our attackers. They must have been waiting for our arrival on nearby rooftops, or someone had alerted them that Matteo and I had come to see our father. A fucking traitor in our ranks. I started firing bullet after bullet in the direction of the shooters, letting my fury consume me, letting it guide my actions. Eventually the flashing lights of the police filled the dark. I shoved my gun into my pants before I walked out of the restaurant with raised arms, my pulse pounding in my temples. Cesare was trying to talk with the police, but they had their guns drawn. He pointed toward me. One of the police officers approached me while his colleagues aimed their guns at my men and me. “You’re in charge?”

For a moment I only stared at the man before reality sank in. Everyone was watching me as I stood covered in blood amidst broken glass. This mess was my responsibility now. My men expected me to find the people responsible, to dish out revenge, to keep the Famiglia together. “I’m Capo of the Famiglia.”

I barely listened to the officer. This was none of their business. It was mine, and I’d handle it. I’d find the men who’d worked with the Bratva to kill my father and tried killing Matteo and me—again.

My anger spiraled higher and higher. Soon the area was swarming with Famiglia soldiers and police. My father’s Consigliere Bardoni arrived not long after. “Where’s our Capo?”

I glared down at him. My father’s man through and through. “He stands in front of you.”

Bardoni’s eyes widened, then he plastered that slimy smile on his face. “My condolences. I’m sure you and your brother need time to grieve. I can take over business until you feel ready.”

I gave him my coldest smile. Did he really think I’d allow him to take control? I didn’t trust him one bit, but whom could I really trust at this point? My eyes took in the men around me. Matteo always. Cesare maybe. But everyone else could be a traitor. “I don’t need time. I will rule over the Famiglia, and Matteo will be my Consigliere from this day on.”

Bardoni took a step back, anger flashing across his face. “But—”

I gripped his collar, jerking him closer. “I’m your Capo. I don’t tolerate words of objection. You’d do well to remember that I’m my father’s son. Cruelty runs in my veins, and right now I want nothing more than to spill blood.”

“I apologize, Capo,” Bardoni sputtered, and I released him.

Two hours later, I was finally on my way home. My anger had only risen higher. I wasn’t even sure why. I felt such a myriad of emotions but anger was the most familiar option. For years I’d dreamed of getting rid of my father, of becoming Capo, and today my wish had finally been fulfilled. But it had come through betrayal. The traitors were still among us, waiting for their next chance to remove Matteo and me as well.

Someone had betrayed us again. Fucking again. Whom could I trust?

Fury turned my vision into a red haze. Violence burnt in my veins, pounded in my temples, wanting to be unleashed.

I staggered out of the elevator. Romero stood from the couch. “I heard what happened.”

Did he now? I stalked toward him. How could I be sure he was trustworthy? Few people knew what my father did. I shoved Romero against the wall. “Who told you?” I growled.

“Matteo,” he bit out.

“So you didn’t know before?”

Romero tried to unlock my hold on his throat but I pressed harder into him, so fucking desperate to rip something to shreds.

“I would never betray the Famiglia,” Romero choked out, then coughed. “I’m loyal. I’d die for you. If I were a traitor, Aria wouldn’t be here, safe and unscathed. She’d be in the hands of the Bratva.”

I released him and he dropped to the ground, sputtering. Aria came down the stairs in a little nothing.

Romero looked her way and I lost it. “Out, now,” I ordered, the rushing in my ears growing in crescendo. I gripped Romero, my body shaking with hardly suppressed rage. I threw him into the elevator then hit the button. The doors closed and I locked this floor so nobody would be able to come up.

Who knew if the murderer of my father was out for Aria as well.

Aria.

My body throbbed with a dark hunger, a ferocious burning. Everything around me was utter darkness, except for her.

“Are you okay?” Aria asked.

I turned my head toward her as she approached me slowly. My eyes took in her nipples straining against her nightgown. My need for bloodspill battled with lust in my body.

Aria took another step closer and I snapped, letting my hunger take control. My thoughts turned to static, my body driven by instinct. I grabbed Aria, feeling her heat, smelling her divine scent. Mine. Always mine.

I needed her, every inch of her. I jerked her forcefully against me and silenced her with a harsh kiss.

I turned, discomfort dragging me from sleep. My brain was foggy, my muscles tense and sore as if I’d worked out for hours. Groaning, I peered up at the ceiling before I realized I wasn’t in the bedroom. I jerked, fumbling for my gun, which wasn’t there, and sat up. Early morning light streamed into the living room. I was on the floor, completely naked. Images from last night, small glimpses as if taken through a foggy lens, materialized before my inner eye. Father being shot. Me returning home in a rage, attacking Romero and…Aria.

My chest constricted. I looked around and then my eyes landed on my wife, lying on her side on the wooden floor. She was curled into herself, her body covered in goose bumps. Slowly I got on to my knees and moved closer. Bruises bloomed on her lower back where she must have rubbed over the floor. Bile traveled up my throat at the sight. A sight I remembered from my childhood when Father had violated mother.

What had I done? Fuck, what the hell had I done?

I pushed to my feet, staring down at Aria. With shaking hands I lifted her and found more bruises on her hips, finger shaped bruises. For a moment, I was sure I’d throw up. I hadn’t thrown up in a decade, not even when I had been surrounded by my enemies’ blood, bowels, shit, vomit and piss. I carried Aria into our bedroom and gently lowered her to the bed. Aria didn’t stir, deep asleep. And then a new worry shot through me. I carefully felt the back of her head for bumps, but there were none. She let out a small sigh. I sank down on the edge of the bed, feeling drained.

My eyes were frozen on my battered wife. All my life I’d sworn I’d never become my father, not in that regard at least. I curled my hands to fists, despair and guilt battling a furious war in my chest. I considered calling Matteo but shame stopped me. He and I had hated our father fiercely for how he treated his women. How could I admit that I was as bad as him?

Aria’s lids fluttered and I tensed, dreading the look in her eyes when she saw me. Would she hate me? Fear me?

How could I ever make it up to her? Ever apologize if I’d hurt her like I thought I had? There was no apologizing for something like that. It was unforgivable.

Aria looked at me with a small frown.

“What did I do?” I rasped, torn between not wanting to know and desperately needing to.

Aria peered down her body. I didn’t understand her reaction. Was she in shock? How badly had I fucked up? She brushed her fingers over her throat and I winced at the bite marks I’d left on her unblemished skin. I was a monster. I should have never been given someone like Aria.

Aria pushed into a sitting position and grimaced, pain flashing across her face. A new wave of self-hatred slashed through me sharper than any knife ever could.

“Aria, please tell me. Did I…?” I couldn’t even say the fucking word. What kind of man could perform the deed but not say the word?

Aria’s brows drew together as she looked at me as if she didn’t understand a word I was saying. “You don’t remember?”

“I remember bits and pieces. I remember holding you down.” That was the worst memory of all. Aria bent over the couch, me on top of her.

“You didn’t hurt me,” Aria said softly.

Her body spoke a different language. Why was she trying to protect me? “Don’t lie to me.”

Aria crawled over to me. I regarded her without moving. “You were a bit rougher than usual, but I wanted it. I enjoyed it.”

I had trouble believing it, considering how my rougher side was. “No, really, Luca,” Aria murmured, kissing my cheek. She didn’t look scared or broken. “I came at least four times. I don’t exactly remember everything. I passed out from sensory overload.”

I closed my eyes a moment. Fuck. Not like my father.

“I don’t understand what got into you. You even attacked Romero.”

I put my hand on Aria’s knee, savoring the feel of her soft skin, glad that she didn’t flinch. “My father is dead.”

Aria’s eyes widened. “What? How?”

“Last night. He was having dinner at a small restaurant in Brooklyn when a sniper put a bullet into his head.” Aria didn’t need to know the entire truth. It wouldn’t serve any purpose. The less she knew in this regard, the safer she’d be.

“What about your stepmother?”

“She wasn’t there. He was with his mistress. She was shot too, probably because the Bratva thought she was his wife. Someone must have told them where to find him. Very few people knew he went there. He was in disguise. Nobody could have recognized him. There has to be a traitor among us.”

Nina was probably slurping champagne and dancing on the tables as we spoke. I needed to go see her with Matteo later today. Part of me wondered if maybe she’d been involved in his death. I needed to find out so I could figure out if there was a traitor among our men. I had my suspicions, of course.

“How do you feel?” She touched my chest as if I needed consoling. I hadn’t felt an ounce of sadness over my father’s death. Seeing him lying in his own blood with open, empty eyes, I hadn’t felt a sliver of the emotions the sight of Aria’s bruises had evoked in me. I stroked Aria’s upper arm, then lightly traced the bite marks on her throat. “Relief.”

Aria tilted her head. “Because you’re finally Capo?”

Because Father could never hurt Aria, because I wouldn’t have to kill the man myself to protect her. He was finally gone, and I would rebuild the Famiglia to something stronger and better.

“Yes,” I said. I leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “I really didn’t hurt you?”

Aria kissed me. “You needed me and I needed you, Luca.” The look in Aria’s eyes tore at my last wall. I quickly got up. “I need to handle the situation. The Famiglia needs me to take control and uncover the traitors.”

Aria smiled. “You’re going to be a great Capo.” I didn’t say anything, only regarded my wife’s kind face. She slid out of bed. “Can I help you with anything? Should I keep Nina company?”

I shook my head. “Take a bath and relax. I’ll handle everything.”

Aria nodded, but I could tell that she was disappointed but I didn’t want her involved in this mess as long as I didn’t know exactly what had happened, and Nina didn’t need consolation any more than I did. After a last kiss, I went into the shower. When I was done getting ready, I found her downstairs in a satin bathrobe, sipping coffee. “Shouldn’t Romero be here by now?”

“Fuck,” I breathed. Searching the mess of my bloody clothes on the floor, I finally found my cell. I picked it up. I’d turned it to silent and I’d ten missed calls and countless messages from Romero and Matteo, as well as Dante and Scuderi. I called Matteo as I unlocked the elevator. Matteo picked up after the second ring. “Have you lost your fucking mind? I’ve been trying to call you for hours. What’s your fucking problem?”

“Did something happen?”

“I should ask you that,” Matteo said carefully. The elevator began moving up from his floor. “Romero is here. Where’s Aria?”

Matteo sounded worried.

I glanced at my wife who held her cup against her lips, watching me worriedly. I gave her a tight smile, which she returned at once.

“Luca?”

The elevator doors slid open and Matteo and Romero got out, both moving carefully as if they expected the worst.

Their eyes found me then moved behind me. Disapproval flashed across Romero’s face and his mouth tightened but he didn’t say anything. I could imagine what he thought, seeing the marks on Aria’s throat. A bruise circled his own throat where I’d held him in a chokehold.

“That shouldn’t have happened,” I said, trying to ignore the way Matteo was x-raying me with his gaze.

Romero’s angry eyes hit me. “I can handle it.”

I straightened. I’d have despised myself forever if I’d hurt Aria the way I’d first thought but Romero had no right to criticize me, not now, not ever. “I am your Capo,” I said in a low voice, and those words filled me with a new purpose, a strange sense of arriving. “If there’s something you want to say to me, then do it.”

Romero looked away eventually, but I could tell that he was still pissed on Aria’s behalf.

“Would you like a coffee?” Aria piped up, as usual saving the day.

“Yes,” Romero said without hesitation and walked over to her. I narrowed my eyes at his antics, even if I had to admit that his protectiveness over Aria was a good thing.

Aria hopped off the bar stool and headed for the coffee maker. “What about you, Matteo?”

My brother shook his head, his eyes still focused on me.

Aria prepared coffee as Romero stood close beside her, his eyes lingering on the bruises. Aria gave him a smile and said something I didn’t catch, and he relaxed.

“What happened?” Matteo asked as he stepped close to me. “Is Aria all right?”

“What do you think?” I muttered.

He searched my eyes. “I think that even in a blind rage, you wouldn’t hurt your wife.”

I gave a terse nod. “We should head out to Nina and set up a meeting with the Underbosses and Captains as soon as possible. And someone needs to organize the funeral.”

“It won’t be me. For all I care we can dump the body in the Hudson.”

“We’ll give the task to Nina. She’ll make a spectacle out of it for appearance’s sake,” I said. Then I remembered something. “Did you tell Dante or Scuderi about our father’s death?”

Matteo shook his head. “You’re Capo. It’s your job.”

We stepped into the elevator and I showed Matteo my list of missed calls. “I have a feeling someone else told them.”

“Then we should find out who it was and have a long talk with them.” His lips twitched.

I gave a nod. The weight that had been lifted when my father died was replaced by a new weight of responsibility. The Famiglia needed a strong Capo.

“You’ll be a better Capo than our father,” Matteo said.

Matteo and I stepped into the Vitiello townhouse. It was oddly quiet. I’d have thought Nina was dancing on the tables by now. Matteo sent me a questioning look.

“Nina?” I called.

No reply. We pulled our guns and slowly made our way upstairs.

“Where are the guards?” Matteo muttered.

That was what I’d asked myself as well. Nina could still be the target of possible attacks unless she was involved in Father’s death.

We didn’t find her in her bedroom when a choked laugh came from down the corridor. Matteo and I followed the sound toward Father’s bedroom and found Nina on the ground amidst shredded clothes. In one hand she was clutching scissors and, in the other, an almost empty bottle of Father’s most expensive scotch. Her flimsy nightgown was splattered with blood from wounds in her hands and forearms. She must have cut herself in her drunken stupor while destroying Father’s suits and dress shirts.

She peered up at us with teary unfocused eyes. “He’s dead?”

“He died in agony,” I told her.

Nina threw her head back and let out another choked laugh that turned into a sob. She lifted the hand with the scissors to wipe a strand of hair from her forehead. I quickly grabbed her wrist and pried the scissors from her fingers before she lost an eye by accident. She clutched at my shirt when I helped her to her feet. “What happens to me now?” she slurred.

“What do you mean?” I asked, trying to loosen her grip without breaking her fingers, but it became clear pretty quickly that she couldn’t stand on her own.

“I have nothing…nothing. Your father disinherited me. He didn’t want me to be happy when he was dead.”

He didn’t want anyone to be happy. Matteo gave me a look. I’d suspected that Father would find a way to make Nina’s life hell even after his death.

“Take a shower, Nina,” I ordered. “We’ll talk when you’re sober.”

I led her into the bathroom, turned the shower on cold and sat her down beneath it. She gasped sharply.

“We’ll be waiting downstairs. Hurry. We’ve got a lot to discuss,” I said then turned and left with Matteo at my side.

Nina’s family consisted of low soldiers. Father had chosen her for that very reason because it guaranteed he could torture her without an influential family getting in the way. Nina had nothing. “What are you going to do? I assume you won’t marry her off again?”

“No,” I said immediately. “Call Cesare and tell him to send over a couple of trustworthy men to become Nina’s new guards. I don’t want Father’s men around her.”

We headed into the kitchen, which was also deserted. Had everyone left the moment they’d found out about Father’s death? I turned on the coffee maker as I called Bardoni. He picked up immediately. “Luca, what a pleasure.”

I grimaced. “Why’s Nina all alone in the house?”

“Your father gave me orders in case of his death. The personnel weren’t supposed to work for Nina, and she’s supposed to move out of the house.”

“My father is dead. I’m Capo now. Everything belongs to me, and I decide what happens. You won’t ever give a single order without consulting with me first, understood?” I hung up, seething.

Matteo leaned beside me. “Cesare sent two men.”

I prepared coffee, trying to control my anger. Steps rang out and Nina walked in. She was pale and didn’t wear make-up. She looked younger than thirty-three in that moment, reminding me of the girl at my father’s mercy many years ago. She’d gone through hell with him, which was why I didn’t hate her as much as I should for how she’d treated us when we were only boys.

She wore a black sleeveless dress that revealed the bruises on her wrists and forearms and her ankles. She regarded Matteo and me as she often had my father then wrapped her arms around her middle. “You’ll throw me on the street, won’t you?”

I filled a cup with coffee and walked over to her. “Drink.”

She took it with shaking hands, regarding me like a beaten dog waiting for his master to punish him. Fuck. I preferred Nina’s bitchiness to this. She swallowed then looked at Matteo. “I could…maybe you…I…”

Matteo grimaced. She was offering herself to him for whatever she thought he might want with her.

“Nina,” I said firmly, and her eyes darted up to me. Father had done a marvelous job breaking her. “I’ll give you this house. Do with it whatever you want. Sell it or burn it, I don’t give a fuck.”

Her eyes grew wide. The house had a market worth of around fifteen million dollars.

“I chose two new bodyguards for you. They’ll guard you from now on. As the stepmother of the new Capo, you need protection.”

She didn’t say anything, only stared at me.

“Keep your credit card. I’ll give you ten thousand dollars per month so you can live comfortably. You are free to live your life within the confines of our rules.”

She set the cup down on the counter and took a step toward me then stopped. “What do you want in return?”

“The truth about my father’s death and for you to tell me if someone tries to conspire behind my back.”

She raised her chin. “I don’t know who killed Salvatore, but I wish I could thank them.”

I nodded. “And?”

“You know your uncles want you and your brother gone, but I don’t know anything. They don’t talk to me. I’m only a woman.”

“One last thing,” I said. Nina tensed, but her face wasn’t as submissive anymore. “Organize a splendid funeral. We want everyone to believe we’re inconsolable about Father’s demise. Spend as much money as you need.”

With that I left. There was no sense in pretending we were a family or cared about each other. I’d done what honor dictated, and now Nina wasn’t my problem anymore.

I had more than enough to do, most importantly talk to Fiore Cavallaro and make it clear that my father’s death didn’t weaken the Famiglia. I’d make sure the Famiglia got through this and emerged stronger.