Blood Always

21

“First, my wedding is in a month, so I need whatever can be ready to wear in that time. Second, I don’t care about the style, so long as it’s not white.” “Ohhhh,” she cooed with exaggerated worry. “A month isn’t much time, but we’ll see what we can do. Were you thinking of a cream then? Or perhaps a pastel pink? We had a gorgeous Vera Wang that came in just yesterday—” “Red,” I cut her off, saying the first color that came to mind. Cream was just another version of white, and I’d sooner wear nothing at all than pastel pink. “What do you have in red?” Five pairs of eyes gawked at me while Giada threw her head back and cackled. “Okay,” Stephanie recovered. “Actually, that makes our limited timeframe a bit easier. We can look at our evening wear collection.” For the next hour, I scoured the racks and tried on dresses while Sofia did the same. If I liked a dress, my mom insisted it was too casual for such an important wedding. I refused to even try on anything she liked for fear I’d be smothered by beads and chiffon. When I saw the dress, I knew immediately it was the one. The full satin skirt—much fuller than I thought I would have wanted— was a rich crimson, savory and luxurious. A strip of the satin belted around my small waist, and the bodice front was artfully adorned with a light amount of beading trailing down from the scalloped neckline. My favorite part, however, was the back. Crimson mesh coated the full length of my arms, attaching at the nape of my neck. Below that, the mesh was cutaway in a gaping circle, exposing the entirety of my back down to the satin belt. The gown was sophisticated and elegant, totally non-traditional, and utterly perfect. When I stepped from the dressing room, the chatter of conversation ceased. Sofia absently stepped from the raised platform in front of the mirrors, relinquishing the spotlight with parted lips. “Oh, Maria.” Her words were a breathy benediction, an ode to the incredible gown. “I had thought red might be too scandalous,” admitted my mother in an awed tone, “but that’s the one. It’s absolutely stunning, and it’s you.” I swished the skirt from side to side, taking in its lavish movement and admiring the dress from different angles in the bright boutique lighting. “Soooo, are we going to say yes to the dress?” Stephanie asked excitedly, dousing the moment in a spray of Kool-Aid flavored gasoline. I glanced over my shoulder at her, attempting not to glare. “Yes, Stephanie, we’re saying yes to the dress.” Sweet baby Jesus, thank God that’s over with. We spent another hour helping Sofia search for something she liked. Being the creative type, she was a bit more particular and was unable to commit to anything just yet. I sipped on champagne and steered my mother away from the topic of grandkids … on multiple occasions. Giada was entirely focused on planning our girls’ trip, spending most of the time on her phone and asking questions like whether we wanted a butler and if a private pool was important. My mother suggested we finished our outing with dinner. Normally, I would have made my excuses and bowed out of a second round of family time, but I didn’t. The afternoon hadn’t been totally unpleasant, and after several glasses of champagne, I found myself suggesting a restaurant nearby. I felt a twinge of guilt when my mother’s eyes lit like a child at Christmas. The thing about not participating in family functions is you’re not around to see the disappointment. I made a mental note, if at all possible, to make more of an effort. Pick out a wedding dress, and all of a sudden, I’m a goddamn Girl Scout. I shook my head and sighed just as my phone buzzed with a text. I’m coming to your place this evening. Well, well, Matteo was being downright civil by announcing his plans. Next thing you know, he’d be asking instead of telling—then, what would the world come to? Why? I asked in reply. It was no longer my birthday, and we weren’t exactly friends. Was he expecting to get laid? Because I could save him a trip. We have a matter to discuss. Interesting. Something requiring more than a text or phone conversation. Knowing men, it was entirely possible the excuse was a ruse to get me naked, but I didn’t think that was Matteo’s style. He wasn’t the type to need tricks in order to sleep with a woman. I’m about to have dinner with my sisters. Dinner was suddenly looking better and better. I’ll be at your place at nine. What if we aren’t done? No excuses, Maria. I could hear the words in my head spoken in his gravelly voice. Just the memory of his commanding tenor sent a shiver skittering down my spine. I fought against authority every chance I had, outside of my Lucciano superiors, but there was something undeniably sexy about a man who could wield power. The kind of man who was unwaveringly confident in his abilities because he was just that good. A man who would be worth the sacrifice of surrender. Too bad Matteo was a Gallo. No matter how sexy he was or how competently he commanded those around him, he would never be worthy of me. *** I arrived at my apartment at nine o’clock sharp and found Matteo waiting for me outside my door. I’d had two martinis with dinner, and on top of the champagne, even food hadn’t been enough to counteract the alcohol. I wasn’t about to stumble in front of any trucks, but I was far more affected than I would have preferred. It was my own fault. I’d known I would see him. I’d known how important it was to be in possession of all my faculties in his presence, but I’d indulged in the drinks anyway. I had told myself it was my reward for spending a day with my family, but that wasn’t the truth of it. Deep down, in the darkest part of me that I refused to acknowledge, I wanted to drop my defenses. All my life I’d kept the world at gunpoint. It was exhausting. The ease of letting go was shamefully alluring. He was my enemy. Of all people, he was the last person I should entrust with my protection. And yet … that’s exactly what I’d done. Handed myself over in a state of intoxication, unable to fully defend myself. It was time to see if Matteo De Luca would keep me afloat or use those capable hands to hold me under. He leaned his muscled frame against the wall in a statement of casual indifference, but his eyes betrayed him. Even with alcohol clouding my vision, I could still see the ruthless storm that raged in his oceanic gaze. A majestic tidal wave of temper and domination, looking to break on my rocky shores. He would annihilate me. Batter my jagged defenses until he’d smoothed all my hard edges and whittled me away to my foundations. He pretended to be a simple passing storm in the distance, but I knew the devastation he could wreak. I could feel it, not just in my bones, but in my core where fissures of lust uncoiled and warmed me from the inside out. I wanted to launch myself at him. To kiss him. To kill him. To end the debilitating torture of the unknown