Scorned Vows: An Arranged Marriage Romance (Scorned Fate)

“Oh my God!” My shriek bounced around the room.

There was blood on the bed.

Luca shot up to a sitting position, eyes on alert, before they narrowed at me.

“Woman, how many times…” His gaze fell to the bloodied bedsheets and then to his arm. “Oh…yeah.”

Relief hit me hard, but on its heels came fury. “Oh yeah? That is all you have to say?” I scrambled off the bed and inspected my legs. They were smeared with blood. “You made love to me while you were bleeding.”

My husband seemed pleased. He leaned against the headboard and cocked a knee. He hadn’t even bothered removing his pants when he fucked me. “Sounds primitive, doesn’t it?”

My chest was rising and falling, heart and lungs competing for space inside my rib cage. “What happened?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Oh, I sure do.” I padded over to the clothes strewn over the floor and collected them one by one. Blood soaked the sleeve of the dress shirt. “Did you even have that looked at?”

“It stopped bleeding by the time I got here. Dario poured whiskey over it and taped me up.”

“Obviously, you started bleeding again.” I returned to his side. “Show me.” A crusted-over spot covered his biceps. “You need to have it cleaned.”

“Will you do it for me, tesoro?”

“Don’t get charming with me, Luca Moretti,” I snapped. “Why wasn’t I informed that you were shot?” I left him on the bed and marched to the bathroom.

“I didn’t want you to worry.” He followed me and went to his side of the sink, splashing water on his face, then started brushing his teeth.

I said nothing until I rinsed my mouth. “You should shower. You stink like the bar and cigarettes.” I exited the bathroom, and walked to our bed, and I stared. Our marriage bed. The first time he came home to me and he was bloody. It was like a baptism of fire. I wasn’t sheltered. I’d experienced this scenario many times with Papà, including incidents involving our soldiers. They called the mob doctor. I blinked. Bloodied floors, people hustling, men screaming in agony. If Mamma could handle it, then I could too.

The shower turned on. I gave in to a heavy sigh and removed the sheets from the bed and balled them over. The blood had bled through. I was surprised there wasn’t more evidence of Luca’s life, but Martha mentioned the mattress was changed recently. I shook my head. Maybe from the many blood stains. When I returned to the bathroom, it was to see my husband’s naked form getting sluiced with water. I’d felt the scars on his body beneath those tattoos.

“Won’t you come join me?” the devil invited. “Let me wash my blood off you.”

I had to grin at this. “You know it’s more than your blood.” I could feel his crusted semen on my pussy. Usually, he cleaned me up after, but we fell asleep right after we had sex.

I opened the shower door and joined him.

“Thank you, baby,” Luca said.

We were on our way to my first prenatal checkup. “For what? All I did was pour peroxide on the wound and tape it together.”

He linked our fingers and kissed the back of my hand. “I still appreciate it. My wife taking care of me.”

“Is this a common occurrence? Drive-by shootings?”

His grip tightened. “It happens…occasionally.” He cast me a quick glance. “You handled this morning like a champ.”

“What? You expected me to be hysterical?”

“I didn’t know what to expect. I thought you were too sheltered. Too innocent.”

“I’m not.”

He squeezed my hand. “Good.”

“You seem to be in a good mood this morning,” I commented. “Despite the rude awakening.”

The corners of his mouth tipped up. “Why wouldn’t I be? I fucked my wife twice.”

My cheeks heated as I remembered the way he went down on me in the shower before lifting me against the tiles and pounding into me again.

The doctor was in the college town of Red Oak between the mansion and Chicago. When we entered Saint Clara Hospital, the receptionist greeted Luca by name.

“Wow, do you own the hospital or something?” I asked.

“The Morettis are big donors,” he said shortly. “The women in the family usually manage the charities, but with Sofia and Sera gone, it’s another opportunity for you.” He smiled at me briefly before we got into the elevators. He punched the button for the third floor. “I will not force you if you don’t want to. I could always hire someone to oversee it.”

“We’ll see.”

Luca gave me a tight smile. I couldn’t decipher if he was pleased or not. I wasn’t going to commit to managing charities. I’d done enough philanthropic work with Mamma, and despite my exposure, I preferred to be in the background rather than meeting with people and asking them for money. It was more thrilling to steal from these criminals and give it back to the people they ruined. Did that make me a criminal, too? A vigilante? Maybe both. It was nagging me what I was keeping in the attic from my husband. It was probably why I didn’t press him too much on his Chicago business. I worried that we might have a conflict of interest.

If he was cleaning up Santino’s mess, then I might be the key to some of it, but until I knew where both families fell on the human trafficking scale, I wasn’t ready to reveal myself.

When the elevator doors slid open, a nurse was already waiting for us. “Doctor Kingsley is waiting for you.”

As we followed the nurse past other people in the waiting area, I could feel the glare on our backs.

It made me uncomfortable that we were led straight into an examination room.

“Did we get ahead of them?”

“Don’t feel guilty,” Luca said. “It’s Doctor Kingsley’s day off. She wouldn’t see us on her regular shift because she was already fully booked. After a generous donation, including an upgrade to all these.” He waved his arm at the equipment. “I think we deserved it, don’t you think?”

My lips flattened. “Maybe.”

“Baby,” he said. “Get used to this privilege. I might not make it to all your checkups, but I want you to receive the best care.”

“I guess Doctor Kingsley knows what you do?”

There was a rap on the door and a blonde woman in a doctor’s coat who appeared to be in her forties stepped in. “Yes, she does.”

“And she’s an expert at eavesdropping,” Luca said dryly. “How are you, Rachel?”

“Busy, and busier.” She returned Luca’s sarcasm before she grinned at me. “Don’t mind us. Luca is like an annoying younger brother. We grew up together. My mother used to work for the Morettis.”

“Oh.”

“His father sent me to medical school.”

“Are you…?” I started.

She lowered her head and whispered conspiratorially. “One of the mob’s doctors? Yes, I am. I’m also their shrink, hence my double major in psychology. So if Luca is making you crazy, you make an appointment with me.”

I laughed. Luca muttered a not-so-nice word in Italian.

I immediately liked Dr. Kingsley. Though I was one who got easily bored in school, I respected the kids who strived to get out of the life and turned to education to do it. But I guess when your education was mob-funded, there was a price to pay.

As though reading my mind, Dr. Kingsley said, “I could have easily opened a practice elsewhere. I’ve paid my dues, if that’s what you’re wondering. I just don’t want to miss all the drama.” She brought up the screen. “I’m doing the interview for your records.” She looked at Luca. “I told you it was necessary. Even you have one.” She shook her head at my husband’s answering glower. “We’ll only do what’s important. If you need to be hospitalized elsewhere, your allergies to meds and everything will be on record. Your husband is paranoid. He thinks the enemies will exploit that.”

“It’s possible,” Luca grumbled.

“Yes. But the risk of not putting it in the hospital network is bigger given what you’re up against.”

I thought about the bloodied bedsheets this morning and my gaze met with Luca’s. I bet he was remembering the same.

The questioning didn’t take long. I told her I had breast soreness and an aversion to cleaning polish. My taste for salty and sweet had increased. I gave her a rundown of my family health history, what meds I was allergic to, and answered no on pre-existing conditions. Afterwards, she drew blood for their lab and confirmed with the urine test that I was pregnant.

“Let’s see if we have a fetal image, shall we?” the doctor said. Luca and I exchanged glances. His face was blank, but mine was probably etched with anxiety.

He squeezed my hand and bent his head. “It’s going to be fine.”

Warm gel was applied to my flat belly. Then the bulbous probe started gliding across my skin, pressing, probing.

“There it is,” Dr. Kingsley said. “This is the head.” She took some measurements.

My throat backed up as I saw the tiny speck on the screen. Tears formed. “That’s our baby,” I whispered.

When Luca didn’t say anything, I glanced at him. His eyes were still riveted on the screen.

When he tore his attention away to look at me, it was a look full of tenderness and it chased away part of my anxiety.

“I never thought I would be one of the emotional ones to see our baby when it’s the size of a bean.”

Luca put his arms around me. “It’s amazing.” His voice was gruff, as if he too was fighting back emotions.

The doctor grinned at us. “You haven’t seen anything yet…or should I say…heard.” She split a look between us. “Do you want to hear the baby’s heartbeat?”

My emotions had hijacked my voice. I could only nod vigorously.

Soon the rapid pitter-patter of the life growing inside me filled the room. Doc was right. I burst into happy tears.

Luca

Natalya burst into tears, and to my horror, I felt the back of my eyes sting. To hide my emotions, I tucked Natalya into my chest and stared at the floor. I rubbed her back to soothe her, but I wondered if I was soothing the uncomfortable compression in my chest that I felt more than the sting of the gunshot last night.

Thankfully, Rachel left us alone.

The baby’s heartbeat pulsed around us. From the floor, I raised my eyes and fixated on the wall, on a framed drawing of a fetus at forty weeks. Reluctantly, I returned my gaze to the ultrasound screen again. Rachel said she puts Natalya at eight weeks judging from her last period with a due date in October, the exact date I’d forgotten now because of the roaring in my ears. That bean-sized speck that looked like all head and body was going to grow arms and legs.

My wife was crowding me and breathing became difficult. The air in the room dissipated and the urge to loosen my tie made me curl my fingers. Natalya was the one who gave blood, but I was the one feeling dizzy.

She pushed away from me, and I forced myself to meet her eyes. The hopefulness and happiness reflected in them tightened the invisible band around my chest. I pasted a smile. “Happy?”

She sighed. “I’m sorry I broke down.” Her hand swiped down my soaked dress shirt. “And I’m sorry I got you wet.”

I kissed the top of her head. “That’s okay, baby. When we go home, I can change.”

“A baby, Luca,” she croaked. “What if it’s not a boy?”

That made me smile because I had no problem in the making of them. “Then I’ll keep you pregnant until you give me one.”

She gave a watery laugh and rested her head on my chest.

I needed to get out of here.

Natalya

What did I do wrong?

Things had been perfect this morning despite finding blood all over the sheets. Luca had been his charming, relaxed self. He let me mother him while I patched up the gash on his arm. He was even eager and supportive when we went to the doctor. When he told me we would continue to have babies until I gave him a son, my thoughts immediately made plans for renovating the rooms at Tralestelle.

But a dizzying one-eighty happened after our late lunch in Red Oak, where he announced he was returning to Chicago instead of staying over the weekend. He was a roller coaster full of exhilarating highs and unexpected plunges. He loved me. I saw it in his eyes right after the ultrasound. He might not be aware of the way he looked at me, but it was there, etched so clearly. The problem was when he had time to think about it. He was fighting it, but it was too late for me.

I was in love with him and I would fight for him and our baby, even if the person I had to fight was him.

As I watched Luca’s Escalade drive away, I refused to surrender the joy that this day had given me. He was making dumb excuses about returning to Chicago, but I knew better. In this relationship, I was the patient one. I had all the time in the world to learn what made the man I loved reluctant to fully commit in the marriage.

“He cares,” Martha said behind me.

I stiffened. I forgot I had an audience.

“Stop interfering, old woman,” Tony scolded.

I turned around and faced them. I gritted my teeth at the matching expressions of sympathy on their faces.

Behind them, the massive house mocked me.

I was its mistress. I should act like one.

“Oh, I know,” I said. “He was romantic enough in Paris.” I narrowed my eyes at Tony. “I’ll just notch this down to mafia men not wanting to sit in their feelings.”

Tony scratched the back of his head. “I couldn’t speak for the boss, but he’s never had a wife before and his mistresses knew better than to expect things from him. He just doesn’t know what to do with you.”

“I’m not difficult,” I protested.

“You’re not easy either,” Tony said. “Maybe it’s the age.”

“Tony Romero,” Martha snapped. “Natalya is the easiest mistress this house has ever had besides Luca’s mamma. Believe me, I know. She doesn’t micromanage.”

I shook my head and walked past them, leaving them to bicker. I didn’t micromanage because I had enough business on my plate. “I’ll be in the attic,” I called behind me. “If you all don’t mind, I’ll be watching my romance movies all day. I’m not joining you all for dinner.”

Nessa ran ahead of me to stop my progress. She scribbled on her notepad.

I read her message. “I don’t need you to cook anything special. Just make me a sandwich.”

Her mouth drooped at the corners.

I put my hand on her shoulder. “Tell you what. Surprise me.”

Her eyes lit up. She nodded and dashed into the house.

Martha came to my side. “You’re spoiling her.”

“As long as she gets her chores done, I have no problem.” My eyes followed Yvonne. She was always on her phone first thing in the morning and almost all day. One time I caught her in Luca’s stepmother’s old room, trying on a Chanel suit. She must have felt my eyes on her and said, “The blood won’t come off the bedsheets. It’s probably ruined.”

“Did you try hydrogen peroxide?” I quipped before leaving Martha to handle Yvonne. It was her job to manage the staff and she had done so for thirty years. I didn’t see a need to interfere except with the books. I went straight to the attic. Mrs. B, who I hadn’t seen in a few days, followed me up the steps. The cat enjoyed spending time with me in the attic and was the only one who knew my secret.

I hadn’t been up here in a couple of days because I was too excited for Luca’s homecoming. Doriana didn’t need me for the next week or so anyway, and I’d already scoped out the Russians. It was a straightforward job. They were not the cream of the crop, and admittedly, I was put out that it wasn’t more of a challenge. But fair was fair. I left Doriana hanging after I lost the safety of my identity when Santino grabbed me. Maybe she was just feeling me out too. After all, trust went both ways. She had to be sure I wouldn’t compromise her.

The big-screen TV was the first thing one would notice upon entering my new attic domain. I grinned inwardly, wondering what Luca thought when I ordered three giant televisions complete with home theater equipment. The third television was for the staff. Their quarters were at the opposite end of the mansion from where I was located. Although it appeared to be generosity on my part, it was one of my ploys to keep them preoccupied and I subscribed to cable and popular streaming services.

The servers and network equipment were in the closet at the moment. I made sure the delivery came in with the home theater stuff, but I had special bookcases on order which were designed so I could tidy up all the wiring.

I loved attics more than basements. I couldn’t believe how perfect this space was. It had sat mostly empty because the basement was used mainly for storage. It took only a day for Tony, Martha, and Nessa to clean it up.

If the view of the estate looked awesome from Luca’s room, it was magnificent up here. The thunderstorm a week ago had been a sight to see.

While Pride and Prejudice played on television, I grabbed my laptop and sat on the couch. Mrs. B jumped up and sat beside me. I absentmindedly patted the cat and contacted Doriana to tell her I had everything set up for the job.

As I waited for her reply, I did my usual scans of software technology forums, keeping track of any reported bugs or weaknesses that could be exploited by hackers. It took an effort to ignore the heartache in my chest, and I used the happiness I experienced during our doctor’s visit to keep it in check.

By the time Nessa brought up my food, I was nodding to sleep on the couch and my laptop had gone into screensaver mode. My playlist of movies had shifted to a rom-com.

“Thanks, Nessa.” I accepted the tray.

She wrote on her notepad. Are you okay?

“I’m fine,” I replied. “A good dose of a light movie is all that I needed.”

She glanced at the screen and then back at me, before shifting to my laptop.

I stiffened.

One of my mother’s lectures blared in my head. “Don’t let the staff get too comfortable or they’ll stick their nose in your business.”

And my business could get people in trouble.

“Go ahead. I’ll be okay.”