Vicious Promise by M. James
Sofia
Surprisingly, the reception turns out to be more enjoyable than I had expected, aside from my dance with Don Rossi. Everything he said to me made me feel uncomfortable, eager to be away from him, but once the song ended and he passed me off to another guest, I felt myself begin to relax just a little. It takes me a long time to even notice that Luca hasn’t returned, I’m so busy dancing with everyone who wants a turn with the bride. I know I don’t have a choice but to be gracious and participate in all of the pageantry, and even though I’ve never been one for big parties or dancing, I have to admit that the experience is better than I’d thought it would be.
If I forget that they’re all either members of or affiliated to this family that has trapped me in an unwanted marriage, it’s not so bad. Everyone is kind and congratulatory, laboring under the assumption that Luca and I want this marriage, and it’s a pleasant change from feeling unwanted. Even Franco, who I would have thought would be aware of the entire situation, twirls me around the dance floor as happily as any best man might, congratulating me on marrying into the family.
It’s not until Luca comes back that I know something’s off.
He’s always alternately cold and hot with me, wanting me one moment and closed off the next, but there’s something different about him when he returns. He won’t meet my eyes even when we cut the wedding cake, kissing me quickly on the cheek for a photo and not quite looking at me when we feed each other the obligatory piece of cake. He looks almost—guilty, as if he’s keeping a secret that he doesn’t want me to figure out.
We’re staying at the same hotel where the reception is being held, and it goes on for what feels like hours and hours. For a family largely made up of middle-aged and older adults, they can certainly party, and by midnight everyone is well and truly drunk, feasting on the late night food that’s passed around the reception.
“Caterina and Mrs. Rossi really outdid themselves,” I whisper to Luca, trying to get him to say something, but he just grunts, ignoring me in favor of taking another swig of the scotch that’s seemed to be in his glass continuously throughout the night. I can’t tell if he’s drunk or not, but he’s at least got a decent buzz going on.
I, on the other hand, have remained stone cold sober. I don’t trust myself not to say something out of turn, or maybe just burst into tears if I have more than one or two glasses of champagne. For all that the night hasn’t been as terrible as I expected, it’s still a reception for a marriage I didn’t want, and there’s not a single person I know here except for Caterina and Luca—which isn’t saying much. I like Caterina a surprising amount for her being Don Rossi’s daughter, but she’s far from being what I would call a close friend.
It’s not until we’re sent off with cheers and applause and rowdy shouted jokes and in our room, the door firmly shut behind us, that Luca turns to me with an expression like someone just walked over his grave.
“We have to talk,” he says quietly. He sinks into a nearby chair heavily, pulling at his tie, and I can see that he’s a little drunk.
My heart skips in my chest, my throat tightening. Nothing about his tone suggests that it’s something good, and I bite back my frustration. I thought marrying you today meant everything would be okay, I want to snap, but I don’t. For once, Luca doesn’t look cold, or irritable, or combative. He just looks exhausted.
As I stand there, waiting for him to say something else, I see his gaze trail over me, from my face all the way down my dress to the floor and back up again. There’s nothing cold or assessing in it though, nor is there the hot desire that I’ve seen there before, the desire to possess me, to force me to bend to him.
“You look beautiful,” he says softly, and all I can do is stand there speechless.
This isn’t the Luca I know.
“What’s going on?” I ask, my voice trembling a little. “Is there some problem? Has something gone wrong?”
“It’s Rossi,” Luca says, leaning forward.
“What about him?” I keep my voice carefully neutral, even as my heart starts to race. I can feel that old familiar pinging sensation, that warning of danger, and it’s all I can do not to run out of the hotel room. But whatever Luca is about to tell me, whatever is about to happen, there’s one thing that I’m certain of.
I’m not going to be able to escape it or outrun it. I can see it in his face.
“He knows that you’re a virgin,” Luca says carefully. “I don’t know how he found out, but—”
I feel my blood turn to ice. For a second I can’t breathe, the room swirling around me. I remember the conversation I’d had with him on the dance floor, and suddenly it all makes sense.
“It’s my fault,” I whisper. “I didn’t know that he wasn’t aware—”
Luca is on his feet in an instant, striding towards me. “What happened?” he asks sharply. His gaze meets mine, bright and intense, and I suddenly feel very small beneath it.
“He asked me if I was nervous.” I pause, chewing on my lower lip. “I wasn’t sure what he meant, and he said the wedding night—he wondered if I was worried about the first time.”
“Did you tell him that I’d agreed not to touch you?” Luca’s voice rises, deep and thunderous. “What the fuck did you say, Sofia?”
I shrink backwards. “Not much! I thought it was weird that he was asking me about having sex with you. I just said that I wasn’t really nervous, that I was sure you knew what to do and that you’d help me through it. And then he just nodded like I’d answered some question for him, and passed me off to another guest who wanted to dance. I thought it was strange, but—”
The memory of my dance with Don Rossi comes back to me, the way he’d looked down at me with that charming smile on his face, his eyes flicking over me as if sizing me up. The way he’d casually asked “Are you nervous, little one? For your first night with a man like Luca?”
I’d said no, of course, that I wasn’t nervous at all. “It’s supposed to be something to look forward to, right?” I’d said cheerfully. “The first time with your new husband?” And he’d smiled knowingly, as if I’d just told him something he’d been curious about.
Which, of course, now I know that I had.
I look up at Luca, twisting my hands together to keep them from trembling. “What’s going on?”
His jaw clenches tightly, the muscles there working, and I can see him holding on to his self-control. It makes me almost dizzy with fear, because I can tell that this is more than just him being irritated or pissed at me. Something is very, very wrong.
“I lied for you,” he bites out, looming over me. “Do you know anything about the marital customs of mafia families, Sofia?”
“No,” I whisper. “I never needed to, I—”
“The custom,” he says sharply, each word coming out punctuated, “is that the parents of the bride and groom, the maid of honor and the best man all come up to the bedroom the next morning, to see that the marriage has been consummated. It’s tradition, to prove that the marriage is real and legal, and that the bride’s virginity has been taken by the groom. It’s old and outdated,” he adds, seeing the look on my face, “but it is custom. And since you insisted that I not touch you as a condition of our marriage, well—you can see how that put me in a difficult situation.”
“You should have told me,” I whisper. I feel as if I can’t breathe.
“You’re right,” he admits, and I can feel my eyes widening just from the shock of that admission. “But it’s my experience that the more people who know you’ve told a lie, the more quickly that lie is found out.”
“So what now?” I wrap my arms around myself, the soft lace of the dress rubbing against my skin. “What happens?”
Luca looks down at me for a moment, and the silence stretches out between us. “We have to sleep together tonight,” he says finally.
I stare up at him, speechless. My first, immediate thought is that he’s lying to me, so that he can get me into bed. But looking into his eyes, I can see that isn’t the case. I’ve seen hunger in his eyes, and desire, and lust. I’ve seen the way he looks at me when he wants to make me beg for him, when he wants me to bend to his will. This isn’t that. He looks almost defeated, like a man who is backed into a corner with no recourse.
I’m actually not sure which is worse. I didn’t want Luca to force me, but I also don’t want my first and possibly only experience in bed to be with him behaving like a man being led to his execution. “What happens if I say no?” I blurt out. It’s the only thing I can think of to say.
“Then we’re both dead,” Luca says tiredly. “Rossi won’t tolerate any chance that the marriage might be able to be annulled, however slight. And if he thinks my loyalty to you outweighs my loyalty to him, he won’t tolerate that either. If somehow I survive it, it won’t be with all my body parts or my position intact.”
He says it so tonelessly, as if he’s telling me that the sky is blue, or that it’s spring. I, on the other hand, shrink back in horror. “But you’re his heir,” I whisper. “He’d dispose of you, one way or another, just like that? Over one lie?”
“Loyalty must be absolute.” Luca gives me a small, tight smile. “We like to think that we’re better than the Bratva, more cultured, but in our own ways we’re equally as cruel. And Rossi can be a brutal man in his way.” He looks down at me, and I can see in his expression that there’s no way out. “Sofia, rape is very far down the list of things that Rossi would hesitate at. And while it’s against my personal moral code, it’s exactly what he expects of me tonight, if you refuse.”
“So what do you want from me?” I whisper.
“I want you willing.” He says it simply. “And if you’re not—then I don’t know what we do. I can’t live with myself if I force you, Sofia. I can do a great many things, but not that. But I don’t want to die slowly, either. So you see, I’m at an impasse.”
It’s the longest conversation we’ve ever had, and the most serious. It’s the first time I’ve ever felt that he’s spoken to me as an equal. It doesn’t make me love him, not even like him, but it does make me hate him a tiny bit less. It makes me feel, for the first time, that he doesn’t think of me as something to be used and managed. He at least, for once, is asking for my cooperation instead of demanding it.
I don’t want to be married to him. I don’t even want to know him. I want to be as far away from this as I can possibly be.
But that doesn’t mean I want him to die, let alone in the ways I can imagine Rossi could come up with—and probably ways that I can’t imagine. And I don’t want to die, either.
“I’m sorry,” I say simply.
His face pales a little, and I realize that he thinks that I’m telling him no, apologizing for not being able to give in. The momentary upper hand feels like a small victory, and I grab onto it as something to cling to.
“I’ll do it.” I bite my lower lip, feeling my skin tingle with fear and—although I don’t want to admit it—a little anticipation. “I don’t want this—but I don’t want either of us to die. I just wish you’d told me that you’d lied,” I finish softly. “After all, I am your wife.”
The corner of Luca’s mouth twitches just a tiny bit. He reaches out then, pushing a curl of hair off of my shoulder, the tips of his fingers tracing over my collarbone. It makes me breathe in sharply, and his eyes close for a moment.
“I’d prepared myself to sleep in a chair tonight,” he says wryly. “I’m not sure that I wouldn’t have touched you at all, Sofia, especially after last night. But I need you to know—” He takes a deep breath, and there’s something unreadable in his eyes, something that I can’t quite decipher. “I would never have taken your virginity against your will, Sofia. I am not a good man, but there are some things even I wouldn’t do.”
“I know,” I whisper. I can feel my pulse racing, and my mouth is dry, my hands shaking. “I—” I’m scared, is what I want to say, but I can’t admit that to this man, this gorgeous, mercurial man who is looking down at me, preparing to take me to bed for the first time. I don’t know him well enough—I don’t trust him enough.
“I’ll be as careful as I can,” Luca says, his voice dropping an octave. I can hear it deepening, growing rougher, and it sends a quiver through me that might be from fear or desire, I’m not sure which. “But I can’t deny that I want you, Sofia. And when the moment comes—”
I shouldn’t want him. Nothing about this man should turn me on. But something about the roughness of his voice, hearing him say that he wants me so badly that he can barely control himself—this man who can have any woman he wants, arouses me despite myself. I can feel the dampness on my thighs, my skin tingling as his fingers trail down to the space between my breasts, down to the edge of my neckline.
“You are beautiful,” he murmurs. “I mean that. You’re a beautiful bride, Sofia.”
I look up at him, watching him as his gaze trails over my breasts, and his face is utterly unreadable. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, what he’s not saying, and my chest squeezes with anxiety. The few times that I’d tried to imagine my first time, it was nothing like this. Sometimes I pictured it happening out of nowhere, tumbling into bed with someone overcome with passion, other times I pictured it planned, sweet and slow and intentional.
Instead I’m in the most expensive, luxurious hotel room that I’ve ever been in, with the most gorgeous man that I’ve ever seen touching me like I’m a fragile treasure, instead of handling me roughly like he has before. He’s trying to make this easier on me, I can tell, and somehow that makes it worse—because I know that he doesn’t really care about me. In the end, he’s just saving his own skin.
Luca looks up, meeting my eyes. “What do you want?” he asks, his voice low. “Do you want me to take my time? Do you want—” he breaks off, but I know what he’s offering. A night of pleasure, of him treating me the way he would any woman that he brought home to bed, a night of discovering all the delights that can be had with him. All of the mysteries of sex, unveiled to me in a single night.
And a part of me wants it. I can’t deny that. My skin is electric with his touch, my lips already tingling with the memory of his kiss. I’ve had a taste of what he can give me, and if my mind and heart are still resisting, my traitorous body is quicker to give in.
But as always, I have a choice. Maybe not as much of one as I’d thought, but I can choose how this night unfolds. How much I give him.
I want pleasure, but not if it means giving him something that I can’t get back, something that I’ll never get in return. And I know that if I open myself up, if I let myself indulge and lose myself in him for a night, I might lose everything.
I might lose more than just my innocence.
Luca is not a man who can ever love me. Not a man who can ever be my husband in any way except the strictest definition.
And I can’t give him what I would, if he did.
“Just get it over with,” I hear myself saying, my voice more emotionless than I’ve ever heard it. Even as I say it, I can feel my body rebelling, wanting more than just a quick deflowering, but I refuse to give in. “Do what you have to.”
Luca tenses, his hand going very still above my breasts. I can almost see him reshaping, turning back into the cold, hard Luca that I know so well, and not the almost-vulnerable man of the past half hour. “Very well,” he says, his voice flat, and I feel a chill in my stomach as I realize what I’ve done. I’ve turned tonight from something we could both take at least some pleasure in, back into a chore. A duty that neither of us wants. And now that Luca isn’t trying to be gentle, he could be something far worse.
He turns me away from him then, his fingers pulling the buttons of my dress loose one by one, until the zipper is laid bare. The room suddenly feels very cold, and I shiver under his touch as he pulls the zipper down, inch by inch, revealing the smooth skin of my back to him. When the dress is open, the straps sliding slightly off of my shoulders, Luca lays his palm against my back. His hand trails downwards, the heat of it burning into my skin, and then he reaches up, pushing the straps off of my shoulders.
With a slight movement, the dress slides over my hips, pooling around my feet on the floor. For the first time, I’m standing in front of a man in nothing but my underwear. I suddenly regret wearing the lacy white panties that I’d chosen. They were for me, to make me feel beautiful, not for him.
As if he read my mind, Luca runs his finger over the edge of them. “You must have had some idea of what might happen tonight,” he says dryly, hooking his fingertip in the lace. “Such delicate lingerie for a bride who planned to stay virginal.”
“I wore them so I would feel good,” I snap, crossing my arms over my bare breasts. “Not for you.” I can feel my defenses going up again, now that I’ve chosen this path. My means of keeping myself safe from him.
Luca doesn’t reply, but in the next instant he yanks them down with that one finger, letting them fall to the floor. I suck in a breath, realizing with a sudden wave of shock that I’m completely, entirely naked.
He reaches up, plucking the comb out of my hair so that it falls down loosely around my face, tumbling out of the twist that Ana put half of it up in. “Be careful!” I gasp. “That’s Ana’s—”
I hear it clatter as he drops it atop the nearby dresser. “Turn around,” Luca says, his voice toneless. “I want to see my bride.”
I bought you.I remember him saying those words to me last night, and they’ve never felt so real as they do now. The fact that my life is at stake has never been so harshly obvious as it is now. I’d wondered once what I would do if it came down to my virginity or my life—and I guess I’ve found out.
Slowly I turn to face him, my arms still crossed over my breasts. I’m acutely aware that everything else is visible to him, but Luca doesn’t look further than where my arms are tightly wrapped around myself yet. He doesn’t say a word, only reaches out and grabs my arms, pulling them down in a quick movement that leaves me entirely, completely bare to him.
I expect something. He’s never failed to show me that he wants me before, never hidden his obvious desire. But now he simply looks at me appraisingly, and nods, as if I’ve met some standard I wasn’t even aware of. And then he jerks his head in the direction behind me, his face still entirely unreadable.
“Go to the bed,” he says harshly. “Pull the blanket back, lay down on the sheet and turn on the bedside light.”
My breath catches in my throat. I don’t know what I wanted, but it wasn’t this. This isn’t gentle or tender, but it’s not the forceful desire of last night either. There’s something cold and clinical about him, and I want to tell him that I’ve changed my mind, that I want him to make it good for me—for both of us, but the words stick in my throat. I can’t quite manage it.
Slowly, I crawl onto the bed, laying back against the soft down pillows. The sheet feels silky against my bare skin, and I feel completely exposed, more vulnerable than I’ve ever been. I flick on the lamp by the bed, and Luca switches off the brighter overhead lights, leaving us in dim, more romantic lighting.
There’s nothing particularly romantic about this, though.
Luca watches me as he pulls his tie loose, tossing it to the floor as he shrugs off his jacket. His eyes never leave me, drifting casually over my naked body as he starts to undo his shirt one button at a time, revealing the bare skin of his chest. At first it’s just the lean, tanned, muscled flesh that appears, but as he pulls the shirt free and slides it off of his shoulders, I see to my shock that he’s tattooed. There’s a saint etched on one upper arm, and an intricate design on the left side of his chest, stretching up over his shoulder and partway down, all of it in blacks and greys, swirling over his smooth olive skin.
But that’s not all that I can’t stop staring at. Clothed, he’s gorgeous, but shirtless he’s something else altogether, something that I don’t even have words for. His chest and abs are perfectly muscled, lean and rippling, the lines on either side of his abs disappearing into his suit trousers in a way that makes my mouth water despite myself. As his hands reach for his belt I can see that he’s hard despite the fact that we’ve barely touched, and despite the fact that he’s clearly trying to make this as impersonal as possible. He’s still aroused by me—the thick, hard bulge that ruins the perfect line of his pants gives that away.
Luca sees my gaze flick downwards, and smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Like what you see?” he asks, sliding the fly of his pants down as he reaches for them and his underwear. Before I can say anything, he pushes it all down his hips, revealing the muscled curve there before he shoves them down and lets them fall, letting me see him entirely naked as well—my first time seeing a naked man in the flesh.
His cock springs up from between his muscular thighs, long and thick and hard, the tip gleaming with his arousal, and when he sees my gaze fix on it he reaches for himself, wrapping his hand around the length of it and stroking slowly as he walks towards me. “You wanted this last night,” he murmurs hoarsely, his green eyes dark with lust as he approaches the bed. “You can’t tell me that you didn’t. I felt it. I felt how wet you were when I slipped between your legs—”
I feel breathless as he stops at the edge of the bed, afraid and turned on all at once, and I can’t take my eyes off of him. I’m wet now, despite myself, my skin tingling, my nipples hard and stiff without his ever having touched them, and I wish that I didn’t want him. But watching Luca walk towards me, sculpted like a Greek god with his rigid cock in his hand, I can’t deny that my body is aching for him. I want to finish what we started last night—and it helps that I have no choice. I have to do this—and an ever-growing part of me wants to enjoy it.
He climbs onto the bed, and I breathe in sharply as he leans over me. I feel small in the shadow of his body, fragile and vulnerable, and as he kneels between my legs, I lay very still, like a rabbit hiding in the grass.
Luca looks down at me, his face smooth and unreadable, and I wish more than anything that I knew what he was thinking. His hand grazes my waist and I shudder, my body twitching under his touch as he drags his palm down to the curve of my hip. “This will hurt for a minute,” he murmurs, his other hand sliding between my legs. “But I’ll try to be gentle.”
My heart is pounding. He’s not going to kiss me, I realize. I’d asked for him to get it over with and that’s exactly what he’s going to do. He’s following my wishes, which in a way is its own kindness, but my stomach knots with anxiety as I feel his fingers slide up my inner thigh, brushing over the soft, warm flesh between my legs.
I see his eyes darken with lust as he touches me. “Good,” he says with satisfaction. “You’re ready for me.”
He’s trying to make it sound cold, clinical, but even he can’t quite manage it. I can hear the drop in his voice, the husky, rasping sound of desire as his fingers trail over my skin and my body responds despite everything, my hips arching up to meet his touch as I gasp softly. His hand moves, and I look down to see him tearing open a condom, rolling it down the length of his shaft as he doesn’t meet my eyes.
No children.I remember the contract then, and I’m suddenly very glad he was prepared—until I remember that he never meant to have sex with me tonight. That condom was meant to be there for some other random encounter, some other woman, and I feel a sudden tightness in my throat, my eyes stinging with tears.
I shouldn’t care, but I do.
Luca says nothing. He spreads my thighs wider, angling his cock towards me, and I feel my entire body stiffen as I realize that it’s about to happen, he’s about to—
“Relax,” he says, glancing up at me. “It’ll hurt more if you don’t.”
I feel the tip of his cock pressing against me then, and I squeeze my eyes tightly shut, my breath coming in small, short pants. I try to relax, but all I can think of is how big he is, how hard, and that there’s no way he’ll possibly fit—
“Oh!” I cry out as there’s a sharp pain, a sudden pressure, and I realize that the first inch of him is inside of me. My eyes fly open and I see him kneeling there in the dim light of the room, his face shadowed, his body shuddering slightly as his hands cling to my hips. His eyes slide shut as he moves forward another inch, and a groan spills from his lips.
“You’re so fucking tight,” he moans, and I can see his hips jerking slightly, the effort of going slowly almost too much for him. I feel a sudden, sharp flood of desire through my body, a response to seeing him hovering on the edge of control.
I’m doing this,I think dimly. Me. My body. It feels so good that he can barely control himself—
“Oh fuck,” he moans again, and I can feel that my body’s reaction has made it easier than before for him to keep going, to slide another inch and then another, until suddenly he’s leaning forward over me, his eyes still closed, and I realize that every inch of him is buried inside of me.
It did hurt. It still does, a little, but I can already feel the pain receding, replaced by something else—an ache, all the way down to my core, a need for something that I can’t quite describe.
“Luca,” I whisper, his name spilling from my lips despite myself, and his eyes fly open, meeting mine, his body trembling above me.
I see the moment that his control breaks. I see him trying to rein it in, trying to remain detached, trying to make this the cold duty that he framed it as earlier. But when he hears my voice whispering my name, I can almost feel what snaps inside of him, his entire body jerking as his hips arch against mine, and he lets out a deep, shuddering moan.
“Sofia,” he groans, and then his lips come crashing down onto mine.
What am I doing?The thought screams through my mind, but my body is already reacting, my arms winding around his neck as his mouth slants over mine, his tongue thrusting between my lips as his cock thrusts into me again, and I feel my legs spreading open for him, my hips rising up to meet him as he slides into me. It feels good—not what I felt last night, not that tight, building, aching need to come, but something tells me that it could be that, eventually.
And everything else—oh, god. His skin against mine, warm and hot and smooth, the taste of his mouth, the vibrating sensation of his moans against my lips, his hands roving over my body as he loses himself in me. Even last night, he was in control, but all of that is gone now. There’s only the surging wave of his body inside of mine, his cock thrusting over and over again in long, slow strokes that get faster as his breathing speeds up, matching mine as I arch against him, wanting to be closer. I’ve never felt anything like this before, and I’m beyond thinking about what this means—for me, for us, for our future. All I care about is the heat of his body against mine, the press of my breasts into his chest, the way I can feel him surrounding me in every way, and I have the sudden, desperate thought that I never want it to stop.
“Luca, Luca—” I cry out his name suddenly, arching against him tightly as I feel something shudder through me—not an orgasm, but some deep, primal urge to be close to him. It’s as if I know he’s close, and I’m right, because in the next moment he suddenly buries his face in my neck, another deep groan spilling from him as he thrusts hard into me. I feel his hips rock against me, as if he wants to sink even deeper, his cock impossibly hard, and his hands dig into the pillows on either side of my head, his entire body convulsing with deep, wracking shudders.
The moment it’s over, he goes very still. His body hovers over mine, not quite lying on me, and then just as quickly, he rolls off of me, standing up.
I feel cold at the loss of his touch. Just as quickly as he lost control he regains it, the connection between us severed. Luca doesn’t look at me as he peels the condom off, striding towards the bathroom to dispose of it and leaving me there, naked on the bed. My body feels strange, still turned on and unsatisfied, suddenly hollow where he was a few minutes ago. I want to grab the blanket and cover myself, but I can’t seem to move, frozen to the spot as I wait for Luca to come back.
He turns the lights on when he steps out of the bathroom, flooding the room with light, and I blink rapidly, my stomach tightening as he strides towards me. Every sign of the man who just lost control while he was inside of me, who kissed me and touched me like he was starving, like he wanted nothing more than me, is gone. His expression is steely again, his green eyes emotionless, and he stops at the edge of the bed, his gaze flicking down to the space between my legs.
I see his expression change in an instant, from flat to angry, his jaw clenching, and I instinctively tense.
“What’s wrong?” I whisper, looking at him nervously. “Luca—”
“You didn’t bleed.” His voice is cold, laced with the kind of cold, passionless anger that’s more frightening than raw fury.
“What?” I scoot away from my spot on the bed, sitting up and pulling my knees to my chest. The sheet is still smooth and white. “I guess I didn’t—”
“You lied to me.” He bites off every word, his stony green eyes latching on to mine. “You fucking lied to me, Sofia. And you made me lie, except it wasn’t really a lie—” he starts to laugh then, bitterly, shaking his head. “What a fucking mess—”
“I didn’t lie!” I exclaim, staring at him. “I’d never been with anyone before, surely you could tell that—”
“You were tight, but that doesn’t mean anything. Maybe you just weren’t a slut, like your little Russian friend.” His words are a hiss, his anger rising with every sentence. “You fucking lied to me, you little bitch, you almost got me killed—”
“I didn’t lie!” I shriek the words, suddenly terrified at this new level of anger. “I didn’t lie, Luca, I swear.”
“Then why didn’t you bleed?” he roars. “I have to have proof, Sofia, proof for Rossi in the morning that I fucked you, that you’re my wife, or we’re both dead!”
I stare at him, unbelieving. My fear recedes suddenly in the face of the absolute ridiculousness of this whole situation, this whole stupid, convoluted worry about my fucking virginity, which only ever meant anything to me because it was a way to keep some part of myself separate from him. Now he’s gotten what he wanted, he’s fucked me, and it’s still not enough. I start to laugh, almost hysterically, shaking my head.
“What’s so fucking funny?” Luca snaps.
“You men,” I say, shaking my head. “You stupid, self-involved, arrogant men. You’re fucking idiots, you know that?”
Luca looks at me coldly. “What?”
“Not all women bleed,” I tell him flatly. “I thought I might, and you were so insistent that we had to have sex, and I didn’t even really think about it because I was so shocked and scared by the whole situation—but Luca, not every woman bleeds the first time. There’s a million ways that can happen without ever having sex—hell, the ballet lessons I took as a kid might have done it. Yoga. Whatever.” I glare at him.
“You’re fucking kidding me.”
“No.” I stifle another round of laughter. “You men and your all-important dicks, you think you’re so special, that we all just gush blood the first time you stick it in us?” I can’t keep the anger out of my tone. “You were so desperate to take my virginity, but even that wasn’t enough. You have to make sure I fucking bled for you.”
“This isn’t a joke, Sofia,” Luca warns. “Rossi isn’t going to care.” He rubs his hand over his mouth, his features drawn with tension and worry. “It’s an outdated custom by any way of looking at it, I already told you that. But he’s an old-fashioned man, and he wants proof that you’re my wife in every possible way. He said—” Luca stops suddenly, pressing his lips together.
“What?” I ask, my heart suddenly fluttering in my chest. “What did he say?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Luca says crisply. “What does matter is what we’re going to do now.”
My stomach tightens nervously. He’s serious, I realize. Not that I ever doubted it, exactly—but this is a real problem, as massively stupid as it is. “We could do it again,” I suggest hesitantly. “Without a condom? A doctor could prove it then—”
“No,” Luca says sharply. “I want no chance of children. And besides, Rossi will want blood. Blood is our way of life, our—” Luca turns away, striding towards the leather duffel bag sitting by the dresser, which I can only guess is his. He bends over, unzipping it, and when he strides back towards the bed I see what’s in his hand.
A sharp, gleaming hunter’s knife.
“What the fuck!” I squeal aloud, scrambling back. “What the fuck are you going to do with that?”
“Relax.” Luca rolls his eyes. “I’ll cut your inner thigh, just a tiny bit. It’ll leave a small blood spot, and Rossi will be satisfied.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”
“I’m not,” Luca says coolly. “Would you like what is essentially a scratch, Sofia, or would you like something worse? Because I guarantee the latter is what Rossi has in store for both of us, if we don’t obey.”
I stare at him. I’m so tired of the stupid death threats, I think bitterly. Everything, everything out of his mouth is do this or die. I’m fucking sick of it. But once again, I can see that there’s no way out.
“Lay down,” Luca instructs. “As if—”
“I’ve got it,” I say between clenched teeth. Any hint of desire is gone now. I close my eyes as I move back into place where I was before, my pulse racing in my throat.
Luca climbs back into the bed, kneeling between my legs as his hand slides up the inside of my upper thigh. Before it felt good, arousing even, but now I’m just angry and scared. I want his hands off of me—I want him to never touch me again.
“Don’t look,” Luca says, and I feel the cold press of a sharp-edged blade against my inner thigh.
It doesn’t hurt that much. He was right about that. It’s a quick sharp pain, like a pinch, not more than what I felt earlier when he slid into me for the first time. But the physical cut isn’t what hurts. It’s everything about the situation, the fact that I gave Luca everything, and it was all for nothing.
“You could have done this in the first place,” I whisper brokenly, resentment filling my voice. “We didn’t have to have sex, we could have faked it—”
I wish I’d thought of that. I wish I’d insisted on it. It hadn’t even occurred to me in the rush of fear and emotion and shock that had accompanied what Luca had told me earlier, just like I hadn’t pieced together that Rossi would specifically be looking for blood on the sheets. I hadn’t really thought about why they were coming up to see us in the morning, only that they were and there was no way out of it.
“I thought—”
“What? That I would prefer sex with you to a little cut on my thigh?”
“You wanted me,” Luca says defensively.
“My body wanted you! You’re fucking gorgeous, and I’ve never been with a man, and you teased the fuck out of me last night!” I’m shouting again, my voice rising as I shrink away from his touch. “That doesn’t mean I wanted to give you the only thing I had left to keep!”
“Sofia—”
“Leave me alone.” I jump out of the bed, refusing to look at the spot on the bed. “Just fucking leave me alone!”
Luca says nothing, but I can feel his eyes on me as I flee into the bathroom, straight into the shower and the privacy of the hot water and doors between me and him.
When I finally emerge, every hint of his touch scrubbed off of me, the lights are off. Luca is on the far side of the king-sized bed, and while I can’t see if he’s still naked, he’s far enough away from the other side of the bed that I can manage to sleep without touching him.
But as I lay down, curled up in the pajama pants and tank top I’d brought with me to wear, I can tell that it’s going to be a long, sleepless night. My body aches, but not with the need for pleasure any longer. It just feels sore and restless, my chest tight with anxiety and a faint sense of betrayal, and I want more than anything to be far, far away from him.
I can’t wait for this to be over.
