Author: Cora Reilly
Genre: Romance
Year: 2015
Series: Bound in Blood Mafia Chronicles
SUMMARY
Liliana Scuderi has been in love with Romero from the moment she first saw him. After her sisters were married off for tactical reasons, she hopes she might be allowed to choose a husband for herself, but when her father promises her to a man more than twice her age that hope is crushed. No begging can make him change his mind.
Romero has always ignored Lily’s flirting. Her age and status made her off-limits but even someone as dutiful as him has only so much control. Wanting her when she’s supposed to marry another man could mean war between New York and the Chicago Outfit, and Romero has always put the Cosa Nostra first.
Lily suspects her sisters and Romero would risk everything for her, but is her happiness worth that much? Is love worth a war between the Cosa Nostra and the Outfit?
PROLOGUE
Liliana
Iknew it was wrong. If someone found out, if my father found out, he’d keep me locked up in Chicago. He wouldn’t even let me leave the house anymore. What I was doing was inappropriate and unladylike. People were still bad-mouthing Gianna after all that time. They’d jump at the chance to find a new victim, and what could be better than another Scuderi sister getting caught in the act?
And deep down I knew I was exactly like Gianna when it came to resisting temptation. I simply couldn’t. Romero’s door wasn’t locked. I slipped into his bedroom on tiptoes, holding my breath. He wasn’t there but I could hear water running in the adjoining bathroom. I crept in that direction. The door was ajar and I peered through the gap.
Romero was a creature of habit so I found him under the shower as expected, but from my vantage point I couldn’t see much. I edged the door open with my foot and slipped in.
My breath caught at the sight of him. He had his back turned to me and it was a glorious view. The muscles in his shoulders and back flexed as he washed his brown hair. My eyes dipped lower to his perfectly shaped backside. I’d never seen a man like this, but I couldn’t imagine that anyone could compare to Romero. He was all muscle and tanned skin. Strong and tall.
He began to turn. I should have left then, but I kept staring, fascinated by his body. Was he aroused? He tensed when he spotted me. His eyes captured my gaze before they slid over my nightgown and naked legs. And then I found an answer to my question. He hadn’t really been aroused before. Oh hell.
My cheeks heated as I watched him grow harder under my unwavering attention. It was all I could do not to cross the distance between us and touch him.
Romero slid the shower open with unhurried movements and wrapped a towel around his waist before he stepped out, all naked glory and dripping wet. The scent of his spicy shower gel, peppermint and sandalwood, wafted into my nose. Slowly he advanced on me, long legs sure of every step. “You know,” he said in a strangely rough voice. “If someone found us like this, they might get the wrong idea. An idea that could cost me my life, and you your reputation.”
I still couldn’t move. I was stone, but my insides seemed to burn, to liquefy into red-hot lava. I couldn’t look away. I didn’t want to.
My eyes lingered on the edge of the towel, on the fine line of dark hairs disappearing beneath it, on the delicious V of his hips. Without realizing what I was doing my hand moved, reaching for Romero’s chest, for the Famiglia tattoo over his heart, needing to feel his skin beneath my fingertips.
Romero caught my wrist before I could touch him, his grip almost painful. My gaze shot up, half embarrassed and half surprised. What I saw on Romero’s face made me shiver.
He leaned forward, coming closer and closer. My eyes fluttered shut but the kiss I wanted never came. Upon hearing the creak of the door, I peered up at Romero. He’d only opened the bathroom door wide. That’s why he’d moved closer, not to kiss me. Embarrassment washed over me. How could I have thought he was interested in me like that? He was a Made Man.
“You need to leave,” he murmured as he straightened. His fingers were still curled around my wrist.
“Then let me go.”
He released me without hesitation and took a step back. I stayed where I was. I wanted to touch him, wanted him to touch me in turn. He cursed and then he was upon me, one hand cradling the back of my head, the other on my hip, the touch hot, warning and promise. I could almost taste his lips they were so close. His touch made me feel more alive than anything ever had.
“Leave,” he rasped. “Leave before I break my oath.” It was half plea, half order.