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Aria slipped away from me and moved toward the doors. When she faced me, her expression was perfectly controlled once more, and I hated it. “Can I go outside?” she asked.
“This is your home now, too,” I gritted out, trying to hold back the darkness that threatened to claw its way out of my chest.
Aria stepped outside and headed directly for the banister. I followed her, suddenly suspicious of her motives.
“You’re not thinking about jumping, are you?” I asked as I leaned beside her. The idea that Aria might choose death over me like my mother had chosen death over my father, and ultimately Matteo and me, felt like a punch to the stomach.
Aria looked up at me with a small frown. “Why would I kill myself?”
“Some women in our world see it as their only way to gain freedom. This marriage is your prison.” She knew that as well as I did. There was no sense in lying to her.
“I wouldn’t do that to my family. Lily, Fabi and Gianna would be heartbroken.”
Of course they would, and of course Aria would think of them. I still remembered her anguish over having to leave them. “Let’s go back inside,” I said, wanting this conversation over. I led Aria into the apartment, my hand on her lower back. Despite her constant tension, I couldn’t stop touching her. It annoyed the hell out of me. “I have a meeting in thirty minutes, but I’ll be back in a few hours. I want to take you to my favorite restaurant for dinner.”
“Oh,” Aria said, eyes growing wide. “Like a date?”
I was surprised by my suggestion as well. It was a spur of the moment decision, wanting to show Aria that life in New York wouldn’t be as bleak as she feared. “You could call it that. We haven’t been on a real date yet,” I said, wrapping my arms around her. Aria tensed as usual.
“When will you stop being afraid of me?” I asked quietly. People were always scared of me, but not the people who mattered: Matteo and Romero.
Aria bit her lower lip. “You don’t want me to be afraid of you?”
Dark amusement rose in me but I shoved it down. “You are my wife. We’ll spend our lives together. I don’t want a cowering woman at my side.”
Some of the tension disappeared from Aria’s face and a small smile played around her lips. “Are there people out there who don’t fear you?”
“A few,” I said. With the way she smiled, I couldn’t resist kissing her. She froze briefly but I did my best to keep our kiss gentle, my lips tasting hers without demanding she open up for me. It was fucking hard, but Aria’s softening body was my reward. She finally parted her lips for me and I dove in, teasing her tongue. She touched my neck, surprising me with the gesture. It was a soft touch as always. So soft and careful. When she put her palm up against my chest, right over my Famiglia tattoo, a surge of desire flooded me, but it wasn’t the only sensation I felt. For the first time ever, a kiss gave me a foreign sense of…belonging. I drew back, staring into the hooded blue eyes of my wife.
I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket and almost groaned. “I have half a mind to cancel this fucking meeting,” I murmured, stroking Aria’s swollen lips, “but there’s still more than enough time for this later.” I glanced down at my watch. Only twenty minutes until the meeting with all of the Underbosses of the Famiglia. I’d suggested it myself, considering that they all were in the area because of the wedding, but now I really regretted my suggestion. “I really need to go now. Romero will be here when I’m gone. Take your time to look around and make yourself comfortable.”
I quickly drew back from Aria before her soft body and enticing scent made me late. Without another glance at my wife, I headed for the elevator. It took me down to the garage, and I locked our floor with a code only Romero had. Checking my phone, I found a text from him telling me he’d be here in five minutes. That had been a couple of minutes ago. I headed for my car and got in. On my way outside, I passed Romero in his own. I gave him a quick nod before I sped up.
The meeting would take place in the Vitiello townhouse. I’d never understand why Father took business home. Matteo’s bike was already parked in the front, right on the boardwalk, and he was perched on top of it, smoothing his hair back, and looking like he was waiting for a photographer to come along.
I parked, then joined him. “Not inside yet?”
