Bound By Blood (Crimson Empire Mafia #1)

Chapter 1 Luca

Luca

Blood made men loyal. Blood made men dangerous.

And tonight, blood would bind an empire.

Luca Camorra stood at the head of the long mahogany table, with his hands braced against the polished surface, and his shoulders squared beneath his tailored black suit.

The room was thick with cigar smoke and tension—old, familiar, and suffocating.

It was the kind of tension that came before violence.

His men waited for him to give them their next orders.

They were more than capos and enforcers—they were family.

All eyes were on him, but Luca didn’t acknowledge them yet.

He stared instead at the single folder lying open in front of him.

One name was typed neatly across the top—Isabella Romano.

She wasn’t just the daughter of his enemy; she was also his bride-to-be.

The very thought of having to marry her just sat wrong in his chest. It was a slow burn of fury he’d learned to control years ago.

Emotions had no place at this table. His father had beaten that lesson into him long before Luca had earned his first scar.

“The Romanos are expecting the engagement announcement within the week,” his uncle Matteo said.

Luca finally lifted his gaze. Cold, calculated, and deadly calm.

“Expectations don’t concern me,” he said evenly, “results do.” A murmur moved around the table, quickly silenced when he cleared his throat.

No one challenged Luca Camorra—not since he’d taken over the family at just thirty-two and turned hesitation into fear.

Matteo leaned back in his chair, studying him. “This marriage ends the war.”

Luca let out a humorless breath. “No, it pauses the war.” He knew for a fact that peace built on pacts was never permanent.

The Romano family had cost him more than just territory and more than money.

They’d taken his uncle—his mother’s brother—and left his body displayed like a warning on the docks.

Luca had personally ordered the retaliation.

Three Romano captains were buried—one was still alive when they put him in the ground.

They left him there long enough to beg for his life.

And now Luca was supposed to put a ring on their princess’s finger and call an end to the war that they had started.

Luca straightened, buttoning his jacket with precise movements. Control was everything to him now. He knew from experience that appearances mattered. The Camorra family didn’t bend—they calculated their next move.

“I want her watched,” he continued. “From the moment she gets here.”

Matteo nodded. “It’s already arranged.”

“I mean it. I want every step she makes, every call she places, and every breath that she takes reported back to me.” Luca’s voice hardened. “If she’s here to spy—”

“She won’t get the chance,” his enforcer Dante said from the far end of the table. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Luca met Dante’s eyes. “No. She’ll be mine to deal with.” Because if Isabella Romano thought she could walk into his house and play spy, then she was already dead to him.

The meeting ended swiftly after that. Luca gave his orders and dismissed his men. The room emptied, leaving Luca alone with the folder and the ghosts it carried.

He closed it slowly, trying to shut away the past, but that would never happen—not really.

There was no way that he could forget or forgive what the Romanos did to his family.

Marrying Isabella wasn’t a part of his plan, but he had to do it if he wanted to keep his family safe.

If he had his way, he’d burn down the entire Romano family—Isabella included.

He hadn’t planned on getting married. Hell, he never wanted to be tied down to one person for the rest of his life.

He didn’t do love. Love was leverage, and leverage got men killed.

His father’s death had proven that. Love was just weakness disguised as devotion, and Luca had sworn he would never make the same mistake as his father had.

A knock sounded at the door. “Enter,” he growled.

Dante stepped inside. “The security team has been briefed. And—” He hesitated, and Luca knew that he wasn’t going to like what he said next. “There’s something else.”

Luca’s jaw tightened. “Just spit it out,” he grumbled, his mood growing worse by the second.

“The Romano girl, she insisted on one condition before she agreed to marry you,” Dante said. Luca groaned out loud. The last thing he needed was for his bride-to-be to demand things that he wasn’t willing to give her.

“She doesn’t get conditions,” Luca growled.

“She says she’ll agree to the marriage,” Dante continued carefully, “but only if she keeps her own last name—Romano.” Silence stretched between them. Then Luca laughed—low, dangerous, and devoid of humor.

“She’s bold,” he said.

“Or stupid,” Dante countered. Luca turned toward the window overlooking the city. New York glittered below him, a kingdom he ruled with blood and fear. Every inch of it had been earned.

“She’ll learn,” he said quietly. “When she becomes my wife, there will be no Romano. There will only be Camorra.” Because once she crossed his threshold, Isabella Romano would belong to him—whether she liked it or not. And God help anyone who tried to take what was his.

The war would end as soon as Isabella put on a white dress and said her vows.

And Luca Camorra would decide whether his bride lived as a queen or died as a traitor.

But first, he was going to pay a little visit to her father, to make sure that he upheld his end of the deal.

This time, he’d leave no room for doubt about who was in charge.

New York City never slept, but Luca preferred it that way—because neither did he. Darkness stripped people down to what they really were—liars, sinners, and even survivors. And tonight, the streets of New York pulsed with all three.

Luca stood at the floor-to-ceiling window of his office, one hand tucked into the pocket of his tailored slacks, and the other wrapped loosely around a glass of amber liquid he hadn’t touched.

Below him, the skyline glittered like diamonds dipped in blood—beautiful, dangerous, and entirely his. Or at least, it soon would be.

“Shipment came in clean,” Marco said from behind him.

Marco was a Camorra and Luca’s cousin. He was as loyal as they came.

Luca didn’t turn around or even acknowledge him.

Marco had been with him long enough to know that silence didn’t mean he wasn’t listening.

It meant he was thinking—and that was always more dangerous.

“Port authority didn’t ask questions. They were paid off before they even saw the manifests,” Marco continued. Luca gave a small nod to let him know that he was good with everything.

“And the Russians?” Marco asked. The mention of the Russians made Luca’s jaw tighten just slightly.

“They’ve been quiet—too quiet.” Luca turned, slowly.

The movement alone was enough to shift the air in the room, tension tightening like a wire pulled too thin.

Luca’s gaze locked onto Marco, dark and sharp, cutting straight through him.

“Quiet men are planning something,” Luca said evenly. “Or they’re waiting for the right opportunity to strike.”

Marco shrugged, but there was a flicker of unease beneath it. “You think they’ll move against us?” he asked.

Luca took a slow sip of his drink, letting the burn settle low in his chest. “They’ll try to.

We just need to make sure that they fail.

” It wasn’t paranoia that Luca felt—it was experience.

In their world, alliances weren’t real. Loyalty was temporary.

And peace? Well, peace was just the silence before the next war.

Luca set the glass down with a soft clink and moved toward his desk, every step deliberate and controlled. Some people called him deadly, and they were right. He was always in control, and that made him not only dangerous to go up against but deadly if anyone tried to take him down.

“Double the guards on the west side warehouses,” he ordered. “And I want eyes on every port entry that we have. If they breathe wrong, I want to know about it,” Luca ordered.

Marco nodded immediately. “Done, boss.” There was a pause, and that was never good. “There’s something else.” Of course, there was. Luca’s fingers stilled against the edge of his desk. He didn’t like Marco’s tone or the look on his face.

“Just say it,” Luca growled. Marco hesitated just long enough to confirm Luca’s suspicion—this wasn’t about business. This was personal.

“There was a girl at the club tonight,” Marco said carefully. Luca’s expression didn’t change. But something in his chest tightened.

“A girl,” Luca repeated.

“Yeah, and she asked about you,” Marco said. That was enough to earn Marco Luca’s full attention.

“People ask about me all the time,” Luca said flatly. “Most of them regret it.”

“This one didn’t seem afraid,” Marco insisted.

Now that was interesting. Luca leaned back slightly against the desk, crossing his arms over his chest. “And what does a fearless girl want with me?”

Marco hesitated again. “She didn’t say. Just watched other people at the club, asked a bunch of questions, but not the usual kind.”

Luca’s mind was already racing, dissecting the information piece by piece. She wasn’t afraid to throw his name around, was watching other people at the club, and asking questions. Either she was stupid, or she was dangerous.

“What did she look like?” Luca asked.