Page 22 of Sins of the Father
Amusement curled through him. How… unexpected. “Done,” he said smoothly.
Mia exhaled, breath fogging the window beside her. She folded her arms tight across her chest like she was guarding something already forfeited. A lesser man might pity her. Luc only admired the gentle strength she showed. He leaned in, catching a strand of her hair between his fingers. Soft. Stubborn. Exactly as he liked her.
“Look at me,” he murmured.
When she did, her eyes burned with liquid fury and something more dangerous: hope. Beautiful.His. Luc traced her cheekbone, memorizing the warmth.
“Smart girls live longer,mia colombina.” His thumb brushed across her mouth, lingering as if memorizing its shape, before he jerked her forward and captured her lips with sensual greed. She gasped, the sound slipping into him, and he swallowed it like a man starved. Her teeth nipped his lower lip, sharp, and he only chuckled against her mouth, answering with a softer kiss at the corner—a jarring contrast to the hard grip of his fingers buried in her hair.
She tasted sweet, intoxicating, like honey laced with fire, and it only sharpened the hunger tearing through him. He deepened the kiss, taking more, savoring the heat of her mouth as though he could devour every ounce of resistance she had left. Desire flared hard and insistent, and as he pressed her closer, one thought carved itself into his mind with ruthless certainty: soon, he would have her in his bed. Not just in his bed—his wife, his possession, his to taste, to touch, to ruin, to remake.
CHAPTER SIX
She finally surrendered to exhaustion during the flight, her body folding into sleep even as adrenaline coiled tight beneath her ribs. The last thing she remembered was pushing food around her plate, the rich scent of truffle pasta turning her stomach, and the heated taste of Luc’s kisses lingering on her mouth.
She had promised him a year, a child he would one day take from her side. He did not know her resolve or anything about her. Mia would learn to live this life, hoard all the money that came her way, and when she could, she would take her child and vanish to a place where he could never find them. She would rather die than hand her son or daughter over to merciless men who would groom them to be a mafia don.
Mia jolted awake when the plane lurched. For a heartbeat, she forgot where she was—until the smooth leather, the low hum of engines, and his presence reminded her.
His hand settled on her shoulder, thumb pressing into the hollow of her collarbone. The pressure turned sharp when she tried to recoil, a silent promise of bruises if she pulled away again. Her spine locked rigid under his touch.
“Time to go,” Luc murmured.
Dread pooled low in her belly, but she forced her legs to hold steady as he guided her out.
It’s just a new place; there is no need to fear, Mia, she silently reminded herself.
The private Hamptons’ airstrip hit her with sharp Atlantic wind. Salt and fresh grass tangled in the breeze, but any illusion of freedom died at the edge of the runway, where guards flanked sleek black SUVs, boots shining, radios crackling low. How powerful was he?
She slid into the back of one of the vehicles, the door clicking shut behind her. The engine purred, and they moved onto winding lanes, the estate hidden behind dark hedges and ancient trees. Every turn tightened the cage around her; even the faint glint of the Atlantic beyond the trees did nothing to ease it. The drive took longer than she expected, stretching her nerves with every silent mile.
At last, the estate rose beyond manicured lawns: glass and stone, ivy softening hard angles. It was stunningly beautiful.
“Welcome home,” Luc said, palm resting at her lower back.
On the wide front porch, three people waited. An older woman, a young woman of about her age, and a man who resembled a younger version of Luc. They arrived, and he began introducing his family.
His mother, Rosina Valachi, stood with quiet authority. She was a striking woman, her midnight-dark hair still thick and lustrous despite the faint silver threads glinting at her temples. Her features were strong yet elegant, and those intense gray-blue eyes—storm-colored, sharp, and unflinching—were the same as her son’s.
His cousin, Gabriella, was stunning in her vivacity. Her golden-brown eyes brimmed with curiosity, reflecting warmth and mischief in equal measure, while her ready smile madeher instantly welcoming. His brother, Antonio, carried a resemblance to Luc so striking it was almost uncanny—the same chiseled jaw, the same proud stance, but where Luc’s eyes burned with that icy gray-blue, Antonio’s were a deep brown that softened his otherwise formidable presence. There was also a subtle charm in his expression, less guarded than his brother’s.
Mrs. Valachi hugged Luc first, thumb brushing his cheek, her quiet laugh softening him for a blink before he turned back to stone. Then Mrs. Valachi’s eyes found Mia. She was warm, unguarded, heartbreakingly sincere. “Welcome to the family, Mia. We are happy you are to marry Luc.”
“Thank you.” Mia’s heart jolted when Mrs. Valachi stepped close, caught Mia’s trembling hands in her own, her skin soft and faintly scented of lavender soap. The cardigan sleeve slipped back, revealing faded ink that traced her wrist, a half-hidden mafia crest woven into delicate flowers.
“It is lovely to meet you,” Mia politely murmured.
“Oh, my dear,” Mrs. Valachi murmured. “You must be so tired. I’ve put you in the garden suite. It receives a lot of sun and has an ocean breeze. You’ll sleep better there.” She brushed a loose curl from Mia’s temple, motherly, natural.
Mia stiffened, braced for cruelty behind the sweetness but found only kindness.
As they walked the stone path, Mrs. Valachi’s arm curved around her shoulders, warm and steady. Mia wanted to flinch away, but couldn’t. The tenderness stung deeper than a slap. She had forgotten the simple ache of being held without demand. She felt unguarded and almost vulnerable. A thing she could never be around this family. And still, her ribs curved in, greedy for the closeness his mother offered.
Gabriella and Antonio walked a few steps behind, their voices low as they conversed with Luc.
“Luc says you love books,” Mrs. Valachi said.
Mia’s heart jolted. “He said that?”
