Page 4 of Wicked Bloodlines

She fixed her dress and reapplied her lipstick in the mirror in the mirror behind the bar afterward, seemingly unfazed by the impersonal nature of our encounter, but she didn’t leave.

She caught my eye in the mirror. “You’re not usually this rough,” she said, picking up the money and sliding it into her clutch. “I’m not complaining because I enjoyed the fuck out of it.” She gave me a concerned smile. Yeah. This woman thought she could land a big fish. “Trouble in paradise?”

I took a long sip of my whisky, not acknowledging her. I’d obviously fucked her before but had no idea her name.

“I heard rumors about your family making moves,” she continued, trying to draw me into a conversation that wasn’t happening. “Something big with the Marchesis.”

My glass froze halfway to my lips. The arrangement, according to Dario, was hours old. How had some faceless, nameless woman in our club found out about it? Or was she trolling for information? Either way, she now had my complete attention.

I turned to her, holding her gaze with mine. I watched her go from flirty to confused to terrified in the space of only a few seconds.

I snatched her wrist, grabbing her hard enough to make her wince. Wouldn’t surprise me if she had another set of bruises to go with the ones at her hips.

“What, exactly, did you hear about the Marchesis?” My voice was low, dangerous.

Her eyes widened. “Just—just club gossip. That there’s some kind of deal happening. A merger or something.” She tried to pull away, but my grip tightened.

“Who exactly did you hear this from?”

“I don’t know! People talk! I overheard some guys at the VIP section.” Her voice trembled slightly. “Jesus, Matteo, you’re hurting me.” She gave me a babe-in-the-woods look, all doe-eyed and terrified, but I saw the calculating gleam there.

I released her wrist, my mind racing. If rumors were already spreading, Dario needed to know. This woman had suddenly become a liability.

“You get one chance at this.” I said coldly. “Get out. Leave town. Never,” I emphasized the word, “repeat gossip you hear about my family.” I paused, waiting until her gaze came back to mine, needing to see the emotions hidden there. “And do not come back here. Ever.”

She blinked, confusion replacing fear. “What?”

“I said you had one chance. The alternative is a bit more… permanent.”

She looked like she might be about to say something cutting about my parental heritage, but then she did a double take. Yeah. She saw the killer I kept on a loose leash. The woman backed up, her hand going to her throat. She nodded several times, then swallowed nervously.

An exasperated sigh escaped and I took another gulp of whisky. At this rate, I’d drink away my family’s fortune just trying to make it through the fucking night. “This is the part where you leave.” I spoke like I might to a small child, but it was enough to set the woman moving.

Thank God. Though I’d threatened to kill her, I didn’t like hurting women. It went against our family’s personal code to harm anyone who didn’t need it, but letting her leave town wasn’t something I’d normally allow. Anyone who knew the Luca family secrets didn’t typically live long. It’s how we kept secrets. But this infraction didn’t warrant blood. My main concern was the actual leak of information. No matter. I’d find the leak and… plug it.

As I knew would happen, she couldn’t get out of my office fast enough. She’d either do as I told her, or if she was a plant sent to spy on us, she’d tell her handler. Either way she wasn’t the person I needed and the rest would take care of itself. My guess is that tonight’s little fuck toy would be found dead later tonight. Not by my men, but by her handler. If not, then she truly had overheard gossip in which case she’d be of no use to me anyway.

After she left, I dimmed the lights and sat in the darkness, the tumbler of whiskey dangling from my fingers.

Sofia Marchesi. I’d heard the name before, seen her at a distance at various functions. Daughter of Cesare “The Fading Prince” Marchesi, whose influence had been waning for years but whose connections still ran deep. I tried to conjure an image of her face but came up blank. I could look her up or get someone to put together a file on her, but what did it really matter what she looked like. This wasn’t about attraction or compatibility or any of the bullshit normal people considered when choosing a partner. This was a business merger. A strategic alliance sealed with vows neither of us wanted to make.

I drained my glass and poured another, feeling the alcohol blur the edges of my anger without dulling it completely. Part of me wanted to refuse, to tell Dario to go fuck himself and his plans. But Dario had a point. A marriage in name only could be easily managed.

Tomorrow, Sofia Marchesi would arrive at Villa Luca. Tomorrow, I’d meet the woman who would become my wife.

I raised my glass to the empty room. “To wedding fucking bliss,” I muttered, and drank deeply as the night stretched endlessly before me.

Chapter Two

Sofia

Isat across from my father in his study, back straight, ankles crossed, hands folded in my lap, the perfect posture he’d demanded since I was old enough to sit at a dinner table. The room had once been impressive, with its dark wood paneling. Now the paint cracked along the edges, small flakes occasionally drifting down like snow, a physical manifestation of our family’s declining fortunes. Father’s desk, polished to a mirror shine, remained the one immaculate object in the room, a throne from which Cesare Marchesi still pretended to rule his crumbling kingdom.

“The arrangements have been finalized,” my father said, his voice smooth and cultured as always. He didn’t look up from the papers he was signing, his pen scratching across the surface with deliberate strokes. “You will marry Matteo Luca. The ceremony will be small. Private.”

I didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. Didn’t allow so much as a flicker of emotion to cross my face. Years of practice had taught me that reactions were weapons my father would use against me.

“I see,” I said, my voice steady and neutral. “May I ask what prompted this… alliance?”