3. Julia
3
JULIA
I watched as the Roses filed out of the back room and resisted a sneer. Four months ago, I’d been their informant, the one who had an ear to the ground in the Caputi stronghold. Now that I was an “old lady,” I wasn’t even allowed in the meeting. Didn’t they realize this had also been my war long before our alliance existed? If Gabriella was coming apart at the seams, they needed to act strategically, not with anger and vengeance.
While Alba, Verona, and the other MC princesses chatted around me, I texted my cousin, Della. She was only a few months younger than me and had been my best friend growing up.
Me: I can’t wait to come home for a visit. Wait until you see my new house.
Della: Is it terrible? Where is it?
Me: In the sticks. It’s dreadful. What is going on at home? What is Gabriella planning?
Della: Nothing good. Word has spread about Leo being alive and your marriage to the Roses. Uncle Frankie is in an uproar. My mother is pleading with Gabriella to step down, but she won’t. What about the Roses?
Me: Don’t know. They won’t let me in?—
“Julia?” Alba said, breaking my concentration. I glanced up at the expectant faces of my cousin, my new sister-in-law, and two others. Sue and Ailene? I hadn’t been paying attention when Alba introduced them, my mind too focused on how my husband had flirted with that ugly brunette puttana in the corner. She eyed me with a smug grin that said she could have Roman if she wanted to, and being so new to this environment, I didn’t know if she was wrong. We had agreed on the infidelity clause, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t push his limits.
“Sorry,” I said, holding up my phone. “My cousin.”
“We were thinking about having a girls’ night next Friday, just the four of us,” Alba said, pushing her glasses up her nose. “Would you be interested in coming?”
“Don’t be too sweet, Alba,” Verona said. “Surely, the Caputi princess has better things to do than slum around with the likes of us.”
I pushed my shoulders back and forced a smile, trying not to show how much I would rather stab myself in the thigh than spend time with the Rose women. Alba was married to the man that killed my eldest brother, Julian, and my uncle, Benito. Despite being blood related to her, I seethed with hatred for both of them. The rest were nearly as bad as their men—cutoff shorts, tank tops, disgusting flip-flops. The goth one had tattoos all over her body, even on her fingers. What did they know about me? What could I possibly have in common with them?
“Uh,” I started.
Ailene cut me off with an indignant snort and shook her head, taking a sip of beer. “You’re right, V. Check out the look on her face. It’s like she stepped in flaming dog shit.”
Am I that transparent?
“Well, this isn’t exactly where I’m supposed to be, is it?” I raised an eyebrow. “A Caputi in Rose territory is a precarious thing, indeed.”
“V, Selene, knock it off,” Sue said, and I winced internally at having gotten the name wrong. This one blinked at me with eyes nearly as big and blue as Alba’s. “You saved my fiancé’s life. I’d like to at least do a shot or two with you if you don’t have anything else going on.”
Oh. This one was Ru, not Sue. This was Saint’s girl, the one he’d been smitten with and talked about all the time. A few years ago, I had saved Saint’s life, and he’d saved mine. We owed each other more than I would ever admit, which was why I’d started leaking information to the Roses in the first place.
“Right,” I said. “Next Friday?” I tried to think of any reason I couldn’t, but being that my social calendar had all but disappeared after I’d been disowned by my family and agreed to marry Roman, I figured I might as well get it over with. Perhaps I could put in a few hours and they’d leave me alone for a while afterward. Besides, it wasn’t like I had any other friends in Madison County. “Sure. Count me in.”
“Great!” Alba said. “We usually binge a TV show and drink and gossip. You’ll have fun, I promise.”
I wasn’t so sure about that, but I didn’t argue with her. Instead, I eyed my brother as he came out of the back room and walked toward me.
“There she is,” he said, holding his arms out for a hug, which I gladly obliged. “How are you fairing?”
I answered him in Italian. “How dare you leave me with these people, Leo.”
“Come now,” he said in the same language. “Of the two of us, you’ve always been better at making friends.”
I glared at him. “You said we’d be in this together and you throw me to the wolves. Some brother you are.”
Leo laughed and kissed my temple. “You’ll be okay, dear sister. I’ve got to go.”
“Where are you going?” I didn’t want to be separated from the only family I had here, the only family that mattered.
“I’ve got a meeting with Rancone and Davila.” He brushed hair behind my ear. “If I can get them on my side, I’ll have the Baltimore underbosses.”
I took a deep breath and ignored the nervous churning in my gut. I didn’t like the thought of Leo going to these meetings alone, even if he had two hired hitmen on either side.
“Take me with you,” I said. “Together, we can?—”
He tsked at me and shook his head. “I can’t do that. Your husband would have my head.”
“Who cares what he thinks?” I couldn’t hold back the scoff that shot out of my throat. “My husband doesn’t care what happens to me.”
“Hmm.” Leo’s eyes narrowed like he didn’t believe me before he gave me one last kiss on the cheek. “I’ll call you later.”
At that, he turned and left, and I tried not to look as useless as I felt while I watched some of the Roses walk closer to our little group. Saint threw an arm over Ru’s shoulders, and Hollywood pulled Verona closer from behind.
“You hanging in there?” Saint said, eyeing my glass of water. The rest of the ladies had been slinging back beer, but I didn’t trust this situation enough to lower my guard.
“Oh, you know me,” I said, “I always land on my feet.”
“Uh-huh,” Saint continued. “And the married life?”
“She’s coming to girls’ night on Friday,” Ru said, tucking herself tighter into his torso.
“Girls’ night?” He curled his lips into a smile. “ You’re going to girls’ night?”
I tilted my chin higher, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible. “What’s wrong with that?”
He shrugged. “Nothing. I’m glad you’re fitting in.”
“Well,” Alba cut in, “technically, we’re family. Right?”
I still hated the way that sounded. “Right.”
Ru turned to Saint and whispered something low that made him chuckle and drift his hands lower on her hips. KC grabbed Alba and led her away, while a tall guy with long dirty-blond hair stole Selene’s attention. Suddenly alone with nothing else to do, I went back to texting my cousin.
Della: What do you mean? You’ve been giving them information for years.
Of everyone in my family, Della had been the only one who knew what I was doing. She claimed to hate Gabriella as much as the rest of us. Somehow, the information had gotten out a few months ago and my dear favorite aunt had her men abduct me from my own home and beat me nearly to death. I still wasn’t sure how she’d learned of my betrayal. Perhaps I had been sloppy or perhaps she’d had my phone tapped. I’d never know for sure, but I did trust Della. Now that I couldn’t be physically in the mansion, listening and learning the way I’d used to, I had to rely on her and my other sources.
Me: The situation is confounding. Find out what you can, would you? I need some leverage.
Della: I think they’re planning an arms trade soon. Even though Gabriella stole that supply shipment from the Roses, she doesn’t think it will be enough.
Me: When and where? Can you find out for me?
Della: I’ll try. Invite me for a visit soon. I miss you.
Me: Miss you, too.
I switched gears. Della may not be in the right rooms at the right time, and being a princess, the bosses would stop any important conversations when she appeared. But the staff? Caputis barely noticed the people who worked for them, and most had NDAs preventing them from talking to anyone outside the family. But I wasn’t outside the family, and I had a few close informants on the payroll who would always answer if I was the one who asked.
I contacted Titus first, and when he didn’t immediately answer, I went for Hannah. They’d been servers for nearly a decade now, and if there was one thing that was true about Caputis, we lived to talk around the dining room table.
“Are you ready to head out?” came my husband’s voice, and I lifted my focus to see him standing in front of me with his arms on his hips, a blank expression of indifference on his face. To my right, Alba whispered sweet nothings to her husband, something that made him bite his bottom lip and smile. To my left, Hollywood was in the process of dragging Verona toward a back room. All these old ladies with their MC men, and here I sat, choking back my annoyance while mine deigned to talk to me.
“Sure.” Standing, I walked toward the front door, focusing on the sound of my heels click-clacking on the concrete instead of how his club members eyed me as I passed. Roman put a hand on my lower back, and I tried not to react to the foreign touch.
The stifling, humid air of summer in Virginia hit me in the face as soon as we walked outside, sweat immediately pooling at my hairline. Augusts in the mid-Atlantic were notoriously vile, but it was almost like the weather fates were mocking me, making my miserable circumstances all the more intolerable because I couldn’t be comfortable, no matter what I did.
He helped me into the passenger seat of his truck, and I checked my phone again for updates, dismayed when no one had responded. Would they change their minds about helping me now that I’d been “married” to a Rose? Or had something happened? Had they been found out?
No. Della would have mentioned something if Titus and Hannah were removed from service. Perhaps they were busy or?—
“Did my sister behave herself?” Roman asked, drawing my attention up to him.
“I’ve been invited to a girls’ night next Friday,” I told him. “I’ve accepted. I hope there were no other pressing matters.”
Roman raised his eyebrows. “You accepted?”
“Is that so shocking?” I rolled my eyes. “Perhaps I will get along with your extended family better than you.”
“I doubt that,” he said with a laugh. “V hates pretty much everyone except Hollywood and her friends.”
I took a deep breath, considering that perhaps Verona and I had more in common than I previously thought.
“How did your church go?” I said the word like it meant nothing because, in my opinion, they had nothing if I didn’t give them the information they needed.
He ran his fingers over his forehead. “Fine. There’s some dissent, but it’ll blow over.”
“Dissent?” That surprised me. “And here I thought you were all a bunch of mindless brutes set on doing whatever your little leader told you to do.”
“Hmm,” he said. “And why would you think that? Is that how things go in the Caputi household? All the king’s soldiers blindly follow commands until someone else steps in?”
I scowled at his incendiary tone. “And just how do you propose to deal with these dissenters?”
“We need to have a wedding. Soon. In the next two months.”
Laughter bubbled out of my throat before I could stop it, and when he snapped his insulted gaze to me, I realized he was serious.
“Why are you laughing?” He raised an eyebrow. “I would have thought you’d like something like that. A chance to spend a ton of money and wear an overpriced dress and be the center of attention?”
“You know nothing about me.” Sure, I looked like the type of woman who had been planning her wedding since she was in grade school, but I’d only ever wanted someone to love me…and someone to love in return. I had that with Vittori. I had that with Hugo. We were going to elope with whatever remained in my trust, run away, and hide from my family so no one would ever tell me how to live my life again. Then, Gabriella had snatched that from me, and I’d been out for her blood ever since.
“Regardless,” he said, “it needs to be in front of the other Roses. A piece of paper means nothing to them. Leo was right; we need to show them this is a true marriage for them to accept it.”
“A true marriage?” That almost made me laugh again. “You and I will never have that.”
“Not with that attitude.” Roman’s stoic voice made me want to slap him, and had he not been driving, I might have.
“Well, get used to it,” I said. “It’s the only one I’ve got.”
“Some partner,” he said, seemingly under his breath.
It set my temper ablaze. “Partner? Oh, is that what you wanted when you bought me from my brother?”
“You agreed to the marriage,” he said. “Don’t blame me for this.”
“I do,” I hissed. “I blame you and your stupid club. If it weren’t for you, none of this would have happened.”
“Is that what you think?” His voice grew louder, his cheeks flushing with what must be his fury rising inside him.
“That’s what I know,” I said. “This whole war started because your idiot president couldn’t keep his hands to himself.” The president before Crow had been in love with Gabriella. When she chose Benito over him, he went ballistic and took out a bunch of Caputis in one night, trying to get to her. Some men just couldn’t handle rejection.
“And if Gabriella Caputi had left her legs closed long enough to get married, there never would have been a bloodbath to begin with,” he snarled.
“Sure, blame the victim,” I yelled, balling my hands into fists so I didn’t start swinging them. “I can see what marriage with you is going to be like.”
He pulled up in front of his house and shoved the gear shifter to park. I opened the door and climbed out before he could reply, stomping up the porch steps despite my heels.
“You should be grateful I agreed to this at all,” Roman yelled, trailing after me. “Thirty-one and still a spoiled, frigid bitch. I can’t imagine why no one wanted you.”
Grateful? I’d never been more insulted in my life. He put his key in the door, twisted it open, and stepped aside so I could go first. But my anger had taken over, and I couldn’t stop myself. My hand swung out and connected with his cheek before I knew what I’d done.
He whipped his head to the side from the impact and slowly looked back at me, his gaze twinkling with both fury and something else, something sinister and enthralled. My heart pounded, and I gasped for air, my palm stinging from where it had connected with his cheek. Anticipation flooded my blood as I waited to see what he would do, but my wrath did not dissipate.
“I am not unwanted ,” I said, remembering my beloved Vittori and Hugo. “Don’t ever talk to me like that again.”
“Or what?” He leaned in, twisting his features into a sneer. “What will you do, wife ?”
I reached up to smack him again, but he reacted quicker this time. He grabbed my wrist and hauled me back against the doorframe, holding my arm above my head with one hand and wrapping the other around my throat—not tight enough to hurt but enough to tell me that he was in charge, that he would take control of the situation if he needed to.
The heat of his body seeped into my thin blouse, tightening my skin, making me shiver. My legs spread to accommodate his, and a distinct bulge pressed against my hip bone. That too sent trembles through my body. He smelled like deodorant and cologne and wind and leather, and the delectable concoction stoked the flames of my rebellion. I hated him more in that moment than I ever had, and yet, as he leaned in closer, pressing his forehead to mine, I had an insatiable desire for him to close the space between us and press his lips to mine.
He terrified me in the best possible way, like jumping out of an airplane and not knowing whether the parachute would open. He could kill me, but wasn’t that the point? Everyone needs a thrill every once in a while.
“The last person who hit me ended up as pig feed,” he murmured.
I took a deep breath to squelch the rotten images that generated in my mind.
“Getting rid of me so soon?” I scoffed. “And here I thought you were made of sterner stuff.”
“Oh, mia cara,” he whispered, and the tendrils of hot breath shot down the front of my shirt, coasting across the tender skin of my breasts, squeezing my nipples into tight balls that ached for his perfect teeth. “For you, I’d be willing to make an exception.”
I pretended the lurch in my lower stomach had nothing to do with the endearment pouring off his lips, coating my skin like a tender caress. He rubbed his thumb over my pulse as he brushed his nose across my cheek, my pulse hammering between my temples.
“You hit me again, and I’ll do much worse than shove you up against the doorjamb,” he said, and I couldn’t tell if that was a threat or an innuendo. Probably both. He backed away, and the rush of humid nighttime air filled the void he left, making my skin break out in sweaty chills.
I took a deep breath to try to stem my racing heartbeat, and when I turned to follow him inside, I found the space empty. He might have gone to the bathroom or went ahead to his room, but I didn’t care. After how disturbing my reaction to him had been, I secretly hoped I never saw him again.
On unsteady legs, I sauntered through the great room to the stairs, taking them as slowly as I could manage with a respectable gait up to my room, quietly clicking the door closed behind me.