Bound by Vengeance!

Chapter Two

Luca's Pov

As soon as we were inside the manor, I grabbed Isabella's arm in a vice grip and propelled her forward without a word. She let out a startled little yelp but didn't dare protest as I steered her down the hallway at a clipped pace.

"W-Where are you taking me?" she ventured in a tremulous voice once we reached the ornate main staircase.

I fixed her with a stony look over my shoulder. "Your rooms. Where else would a new bride go?"

The poor girl visibly paled at my mocking emphasis on the last two words. I couldn't resist dragging out her torment a bit longer.

"Unless you had other accommodations in mind?" I arched an inquisitive brow at her. "The servants' wing perhaps? Or would you prefer a cosy little cell in the cellar?"

Isabella's lips parted in a soundless, horrified negation. I allowed a cruel smirk to tug at the corner of my mouth before giving her a slight push up the steps.

"Th-The rooms will be fine, sir," she whispered, reverting to formalities in her distress.

We continued our silent march up to the family wing on the second floor.

Isabella's gaze darted around furtively, no doubt awed by the priceless artwork, antique furnishings and other trappings of wealth adorning every turn.

I felt a sense of vindictive pride that she would be getting an up-close look at the lavish spoils afforded by my family's... endeavours.

Eventually, we reached a set of double doors which I thrust open, steering her inside.

This particular bedchamber was easily larger than her entire suite of rooms back at her father's estate, I imagined.

The girl's wide, stunned eyes confirmed as much as they took in the plush surroundings.

"Get settled," I intoned in a flat, bored drawl as I released her arm at last. "A maid will attend to you shortly with further instructions."

With that, I spun on my heel and started for the door, satisfied I'd shaken her up thoroughly for one evening.

"S-Sir?" Her small, timid voice halted me with a hand on the door frame.

I angled my head slightly without turning, one eyebrow c****d in silent prompting.

She worried that plump lower lip between her teeth for an agonizing beat before posing her query.

"Will I...that is, am I expected to...share your bed this evening?"

I allowed my gaze to rake over her trembling form in an overtly assessing way.

When her cheeks blossomed with color, I merely gave a miraculous one-shouldered shrug.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, Mrs. Castellano," I replied in a tone ripe with innuendo. "For now, I suggest you prepare yourself for...adjusting to a new way of life around here."

I didn't wait for a response.

With one last mocking smirk, I slipped out and re-engaged the lock with a decisive click that seemed to echo through the cavernous room.

As I strode back down the hallway, weaving my way through the manor's rabbit warren of corridors and staircases, I loosened my tie and shrugged out of my suit jacket.

The smooth Italian silk felt like a vise constricting my rage the second I was alone again.

Dumping the jacket over the back of a chair, I beelined for the kitchen entrance and threw open the swinging door with a growl.

A bustling hive of activity amid gleaming stainless steel and dangling copper pots greeted me.

"Fuori!" I barked, not caring which poor bastard was in my way. "Tutti fuori! Now!"

The startled staff exchanged alarmed looks but knew better than to question my tone.

They began quickly filing out without protest, no doubt praising their rotten luck in Italian under their breaths at getting caught in my path while I was in one of my moods.

Once the last one scurried out, I braced my palms on the expansive butcher block island and fought to get my breathing under control. It was only a matter of time before–

"Problems already, cugino?" A low, mocking voice slithered up behind me. "And you only just brought the pretty little wife home."

Speak of the devil. I straightened and threw Marco a withering glare over my shoulder. "Unless you've got something constructive to say, I suggest you get the hell out before I put your teeth down your throat."

He chuckled softly, entirely unbothered by my menacing tone as he slinked further into the kitchen and hoisted himself up onto the counter like it was his own personal lounge.

Leave it to that snake to keep poking the grizzly bear.

"Your little situation amuses me, cuz," Marco lilted, idly examining his manicured nails. "I never figured a hard case like you would stoop to an arranged marriage just to get your hands on a piece of ass."

My vision was tinted red with blinding rage.

In two strides I had the traitorous bastard slammed up against the tiled wall, my arm across his throat as I snarled in his face.

"You think this is about getting my rocks off, you disrespectful prick?" I gave him a vicious shake for emphasis. "This is about bringing the Ricci family to its knees once and for all."

Marco blinked at me blandly, utterly unafraid despite my brutal grip. He knew me better than that.

"Yeah?" he drawled with a cocksure smirk. "So siccing your dogs on those has-been losers wasn't enough anymore? You gotta take their little princess as a smoking gun bride too?"

"Just shut your mouth," I snarled, shoving away from him in disgust. Planting my hands on the island again, I fought to get my breathing under control. Marco was seriously testing my patience tonight. "You remember how my father died. What that filthy Ricci scum did to him..."

A heavy silence fell between us, thick with menacing tension and years of bitter grievances. Of course Marco knew the whole bloody story behind my vendetta, better than anyone. He was always at my side through it all.

"I distinctly recall what happened, Luca," Marco said after a long pause, his expression unreadable now. "And I also remember the promises we made that night about what would come next. About how many times you swore you'd wipe those greasy wops off the face of the earth."

He slid off the counter and came to stand across from me, bracing his weight on his hands in an unconscious mirror of my stance. Those cold, beady eyes drilled into me without mercy.

"Well Ricci has his precious daughter under your control now," Marco said in a low, hard tone. "I trust you know what you need to do, cugino. What we all expect from you. Anything less than complete and utter destruction of them would be...unforgivable."

I held his gaze for a beat, letting the weight of his words and all their horrific implications sink in. Then I gave one curt nod of understanding.

Marco clapped me on the shoulder with a wolfish grin, revelling in the pact we'd just silently reaffirmed as sworn blood brothers.

As he slinked past me toward the exit, he leaned in to murmur in my ear.

"Don't get too attached to the pretty little wife, eh Luca? This is business, nothing more. We both know how the rest of this story ends."

With that ominous parting shot, he strode out, leaving me utterly alone and consumed by wrath, self-loathing...and the terrible spectre of the price still left to be paid for my father's murder.