Bound in Vengeance (Brides of the Blood Empire #2)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

SIENNA

I tug the hem of my dress down for the fifth time in about thirty seconds. It doesn’t help. The dress still looks illegal. The black silk clings to my body like a second skin, the neckline dipping low enough that if my older sister, Eleonora, saw me right now, she'd throw holy water at me.

I take a deep breath, keep my shoulders relaxed, and stare ahead at the entrance of the mansion glowing gold against the dark hills outside the city.

Luxury cars snake around the circular driveway, and more splendidly dressed guests drift out. Glittering gowns, expensive suits, shiny watches, fake laughter. I swear the whole thing is like a rich cult.

Unease crawls through me.

If someone comes close to recognizing me tonight, it’ll be my funeral by morning. I've never deluded myself into thinking my father is above ending my life if I no longer serve him. And right now, where he's concerned, I’m walking a slippery slope.

The line moves forward.

The woman in front of me laughs as the guards scan her invitation.

I glance down at mine again. It’s fake. The original one belonged to my father.

Fortunately, Massimo Caruso thinks parties involving masks and anonymous sex are “desperate displays of weak men seeking attention.” Since he had no intention of attending, I stole—no, borrowed—the invitation card from his office and altered the name.

The paper suddenly feels light in my hands.

What if they notice?

What if they contact my father?

The guard waves the next guest through, and then his attention lands on me. Massimo will never win the Father of the Year award anytime soon, but one thing he taught us in spades was courage.

There are two guards in front of me, and they both look like they bench press trucks for fun. But I step forward sassily, and flash them a smile. The larger guard holds out his hand.

“Invitation.”

I place the card into his palm carefully and pray to every available deity. The guard scans it once. Then nods.

“Enjoy your evening, Miss Caruso.”

He steps aside and opens the door.

The first thing that hits me is the sound. Moans. I stop just past the doorway, my eyes widening behind my mask. Everywhere I look, people are having sex. Wild, animalistic sex.

My gaze is drawn to a woman perched on the lap of a man old enough to have seen the first fossils form. He’s swallowing her face, while another man rubs his bare cock across her back.

Another woman is pushed against the wall, her expensive dress bunched around her waist while her partner pounds relentlessly into her.

My face heats, and I’m glad I have the mask on.

Goodness gracious.

I knew this was a masked sex party, but still…

I hate the fact that for once in my life, I agree with my father. Parties like this are absolutely deplorable and very well beneath me.

Which reminds me of why I’m here.

Think, Sienna, think.

I don’t need much. Just enough information to destroy my sister’s engagement to Alessandro Gallo.

If my own scandal hadn’t ruined me in my father’s eyes, I’d be the one promised to the Gallo family instead of Camilla. I was supposed to marry Matteo Gallo, Alessandro’s older brother, until I ran away with my boyfriend, Domenico.

The thought twists something ugly in my chest.

I thought I would finally escape my father’s clutches.

I thought I was in love with him, but now I know better.

Domenico as a ticket out of my father’s autocracy and my brain disguised it as love.

I was so desperate I didn’t even see that I was putting his life in danger.

My father caught us, Domenico paid the ultimate price.

Now I’m back and my father treats me worse than ever.

I already destroyed my own future. I won’t let Camilla’s future disappear too.

I scan the room again.

I’ve heard rumors that Alessandro wants an alliance with the Kuznetsov Bratva. If this is true—and I hope to God that it is— then the marriage cannot happen.

The Carusos and Kuznetsovs hate each other too much. My father, as desperate as he is for a power alliance, would not risk one with the Gallos if he finds out they’re meeting the Kuznetsov behind closed doors.

I’m here tonight to confirm those rumors. All I need is proof, except I don’t know where to start. All around me, people are either fucking each other’s brains out, or talking in hushed whispers.

I walk briskly to the farthest end of the room, only stopping when I’m certain I’m out of public eyesight. But when I finally lift my head, the air is punched straight out of my lungs.

A few feet away from me is Alessandro.

He has a black mask on, and it covers his whole face, but it’s him, I know it’s him. I’ve never met anyone who looks quite like him. No, it’s not a compliment. I’d rather cut out my tongue and stuff it up my ass. It’s simply an irritating fact.

It’s the build…

The man is ridiculously tall, standing above every other man in the room. His broad shoulders taper into a lean waist, and his impossibly long legs are encased in tailored black pants.

He wears a white dress shirt with half the buttons undone and sleeves rolled up to reveal corded, muscular forearms. I can see the serpent coiled tightly up his left arm.

I roll my eyes. From his stance, I can practically feel the arrogance radiating off him.

He’s deep in conversation with a group of men, which reminds me why I’m here.

I tear my gaze away and shuffle closer, pretending to be enthralled by one of the nearby "sex activities" while I inch toward them. I’m finally close enough to hear that annoying, gravelly deep voice of his.

Ugh. This man grates on my nerves.

“I don’t trust anyone,” he says coldly. “But I understand the need for leverage. That’s why I need the Kuznetsovs.”

My breath catches. Yes! He just said it himself! The rumors were right, after all.

One of the men, one with a brown suit that is one size too small, says, “the Union won’t like Russians getting that close to the Gallos.”

Alessandro shrugs his impossibly broad shoulders. I bet he has to have all his clothes custom made.

“It’s a risk I must take,” he answers with finality. “The Bratva will give me more soldiers, ports, and access overseas. Marriage to the Carusos will stabilize New York politically. Together, nobody touches my position.”

My heartbeat stutters.

Arrogant prick!

I’m about to turn away when a masked man touches my arm.

“Hi, beautiful.”

I jerk away from the unwanted touch, trip over my heel, and gravity fails me. I’m falling. But I don’t hit the ground. Strong arms circle my waist, pulling me against a hard chest. Dark and spicy cologne hits my nose, and it takes all my willpower to not lean in and take a big whiff.

“Eyes on the ground, bella,” a deep voice murmurs near my ear.

My stomach drops.

Alessandro-damn-Gallo.

Up close, he’s somehow worse. Terrifyingly masculine. Intimidating. I’ve never been this close to him before. My first instinct is to push and run the other way, but something tells me not to.

Although I know him, he doesn’t know me. He’s never officially met me. I smile lightly, praying the mask and makeup are doing their job.

“Thank you,” I say. “I tripped.”

His eyes move over my face slowly. There’s something assessing about his gaze.

Before I can react, I feel light fingers on the strands of my hair.

I usually wear my hair back, sleek, but tonight, for a different look, I let it down.

A gasp tears out of me when he lightly tugs on the strand, causing my neck to arch.

Heat creeps into my cheeks.

From the corner of my eye, I notice the other men quietly drifting away, giving Alessandro privacy without being told. My breath stutters and I pull out of his grasp. His arm drops, letting me go.

Before I can speak, he does, “You don’t look comfortable.”

I glance around dramatically at the surrounding chaos.

“It’s hard to be,” I quip, with all the confidence I don’t feel. “I prefer my fun a bit more private.”

Something sparkles in his eyes. I think it’s amusement, but it’s gone before I can make sense of it.

He cocks his head at me. “You’ve never been to this house before.”

It wasn’t a question. My pulse flickers.

“How can you tell?” I ask playfully, keeping the tension out of my voice.

He watches me silently for another long moment. “Come,” he says finally. “I’ll show you around.”

I find myself nodding. Anything to get new information. And not to be here alone. I’m that desperate.

“That sounds exactly like the beginning of a murder documentary,” I chuckle.

“If I planned to kill you, bella, I wouldn’t start with a tour.”

He gives me his back as he strides away, expecting me to follow. Of course, I do.

The atmosphere changes the farther we go. The foyer had felt performative, but here, deeper inside, it feels much more intimate. It doesn’t escape my notice that he’d said we were going on a tour of the house, but so far, we’ve just been walking past rooms. He clearly has a destination in mind.

“Why are you showing me around?” I ask. “Is this your house or something?”

“Or something.”

“I see. What kind of business requires masks and public indecency?”

“Private business.”

What’s with him and his annoying two-word answers?

And how do I bring up the Kuznetsovs without risking myself?

Alessandro stops before a door and pushes it open. A breath whooshes out of me as I come upon the most shocking scene of the night yet. Two men. Two women. The women have cocks. While the men have pussies.

My mouth hangs open and I take one step back. Alessandro pauses in the doorway, then shuts the door.

“You blush easily.”

Normally, I’d have a comeback ready, but not right now.

I’m still a little thrown by what I just saw.

Alessandro approaches the next door. This time when we enter, it’s empty.

It’s a bedroom of sorts, and just as I turn to ask what we’re doing here, he locks the door, and slips the key into his breast-pocket.