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The way the pursed her lips, one thing immediately came to my mind. “Many things.”
She rolled her eyes, but I caught the pleased shiver that passed through her body. Aria was getting more comfortable around me. “With your cut.”
“There are disinfectant wipes. Clean my wound, and I’ll prepare the needle.”
Aria wiped my wound clean while I unpacked the needle. The sharp stench of the disinfectant tingled in my nose and the familiar sting of it numbed my wound. “Does it burn?”
“I’m fine. Wipe harder.” Usually Matteo or Cesare took care of my wounds, if I didn’t handle them myself, and they definitely weren’t as careful as Aria.
I stitched myself up under her watchful gaze, wondering what she was thinking. I threw the needle away when I was done.
“We need to cover it,” Aria said, searching the kit for bandages.
I stopped her. “It’ll heal faster if it’s allowed to breathe.”
“Really? Are you sure? What if dirt gets in?”
If I told her often I’d been wounded in the last decade, she would trust my word. “You don’t need to worry. This won’t be the last time I’ll come home injured.”
I opened my arms, not in the mood to get up yet. “Come.”
“Don’t you have to leave?” Aria’s eyes darted to the clock. We hadn’t spent many mornings in bed together so far, but I really wanted to change that.
“Not today. The Bratva is dealt with for the moment. I’ll have to be in one of the Famiglia’s clubs in the afternoon.”
Aria’s answering smile was dazzling and knocked the breath right out of my lungs. She pressed close to me, one arm slung over my stomach, and I held her tightly, stunned by the burst of emotion I felt.
“I didn’t expect you to look so happy,” I admitted, even if I regretted it right after. I needed to be more careful what I let slip. Emotions could be used as a weapon, and even if I didn’t think Aria would do something like that, I should be careful.
“I’m lonely,” Aria whispered. Life at my side would always be a golden cage, and making friends as the future Capo’s wife was as good as impossible. The majority of people would only seek Aria’s closeness because they hoped to gain something from it. Her sisters would probably always remain her only true friends. Maybe Matteo’s obsession with Gianna would be good for something, after all. Aria would have one of her sisters in New York. That would make her happy, even if the annoying redhead would probably bring me nothing but trouble. Unfortunately, I couldn’t tell her about Gianna yet, not until things were ready to be announced.
“I have a few cousins you could hang out with. I’m sure they’d enjoy going shopping with you,” I said instead.
“Why does everyone think I want to go shopping?”
“Then do something else. Have a coffee, or go to a spa, or I don’t know.”
“I still have a spa certificate that I got at my bridal shower.”
“See? If you want, I can ask a few of my cousins.”
She shook her head quickly. “I’m not too keen on meeting another one of your cousins after what Cosima did.”
Cosima was one of my least favorite cousins. She was good friends with Grace and both lived for bitching. “What did she do?”
Aria lifted her head, eyes widened in what looked like realization. A fucking bad feeling overcame me.
“She gave me the letter that led me to you and Grace,” Aria whispered, her voice catching. She withdrew from me and hugged her legs to her body, looking small and hurt. The sight, the fucking sight felt like a sucker punch. I pushed upright, bringing us closer, wanting to console her and assure her but, as so often. at a loss at how to do it, especially now when my concern for my wife battled with fury with my cousin in my mind. Following my instinct, I kissed her shoulder. “Cosima gave you a letter that told you to go the apartment?” She wouldn’t have done it by herself. Grace and her had come up with the plan.
I was going to kill the bitch.
Aria shivered, and I touched her waist, sliding my thumb along her soft skin. “And a key. It’s still in my bag,” she said quietly.
“That fucking bitch.” Grace was pissed about my marriage with Aria. The brainless twit had probably hoped to become the next Mrs. Vitiello. As if I’d ever marry an outsider, especially one of the fucking thrill-seekers who’d always only be with me to be in the spotlight and add a kick to their pathetic lives. A woman like that would never understand what it meant to be bound to the mafia, what kind of sacrifices were required to be part of our world. Sacrifices were a foreign concept to a creature like Grace.
