Blood Always Read online

  Table of Contents

  Books by Jill Ramsower

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Epilogue

  A Note from Jill

  In The Five Families Series

  In The Fae Games Series

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Shadow Play Sample

  BLOOD ALWAYS

  ____________

  Jill Ramsower

  BOOKS BY JILL RAMSOWER

  THE FIVE FAMILIES

  Forever Lies

  Never Truth

  Blood Always

  THE FAE GAMES SERIES

  Shadow Play

  Twilight Siege

  Shades of Betrayal

  Born of Nothing

  Midnight’s End

  Blood Always is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 Jill Ramsower

  All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  Cover Designed by Hang Le

  Cover Model Anthony Lowther

  Photographer Chris Davis at Specular

  Edited by Rebecca’s Fairest Reviews

  Chapter 1

  Maria

  “You’re not as tall as I expected.”

  The words flowed from my lips without a filter. Some would say I was blunt. Others would call me tactless. I didn’t care what any of them thought. I wasn’t in the habit of blabbing unnecessarily, but when the mood struck, I gave my unadulterated opinion.

  It seemed particularly appropriate when speaking to the man who was soon-to-be my husband.

  Honesty and loyalty and all that garbage.

  I had promised my father I wouldn’t rush to judgment, which had included refraining from studying Matteo De Luca prior to our meeting. I normally never went into a situation uninformed. It went against every fiber of my being—as did playing nice with the enemy.

  There was nothing I hated more than the Gallo family.

  As underboss and the face of the organization, De Luca was the perfect target for my ire. Just seeing him had my crimson manicured nails jabbing into my tender palms until I could swear, I’d broken skin. To ease the building pressure, I envisioned, in graphic detail, all the ways I could kill him before he had a chance to lift a finger in defense.

  It was cathartic.

  My happy place, if you would.

  I would have liked nothing more than to act out those bloody fantasies; however, there were several large boulders blocking my path on that yellow brick road. Aside from the retaliation that would be enacted against my family for killing a rival, I had made my father a promise to give De Luca a chance. To set aside the preconceived notions I’d already formed about anyone associated with the Gallo name.

  The contempt that had evolved over the years between the Lucciano and Gallo families meant I’d never met my fiancé. We kept apprised of our rivals, but I’d never bothered to examine De Luca from the perspective of a possible marriage. While I didn’t study his past in preparation for our meeting, I did allow myself to glance at a few photographs to ensure I wasn’t tying myself to The Elephant Man.

  The pictures made him look taller.

  Maybe it was the angles. Or maybe it was his presence—he had an unquestionably assertive way of carrying himself. He wasn’t short, but at about six feet tall, he was a mere six inches taller than me.

  “Is that a problem?” he asked, without a hint of genuine concern.

  Good. I didn’t want a vagina for a husband. I would have preferred no husband at all, but if I had to have one, I certainly didn’t want him getting bent out of shape every time I opened my mouth. I wasn’t the standard Notebook-watching, girls’ night out type of woman. I didn’t do emotions or touchy-feely crap.

  “No, just an observation.”

  He clasped his hands behind his back and tilted his head with what appeared to be amusement. “Any other observations you’d like to share?”

  I wasn’t sure how I felt about his reaction to me. Usually, people were either annoyed with me or dismissed me altogether. I didn’t tend to amuse. His reaction set me slightly off-kilter—the unsavory taste of unease on my tongue.

  Sizing him up, my eyes traveled from his short, dark curls to the swirls of inked skin peeking out from beneath his collar—not altogether unusual for a man born into the mafia. He had a neatly trimmed beard spotted with silver. While he was older than me by a decade, the salt-and-pepper beard gave him an even more mature look that many men would have avoided.

  Curious. Did he not care?

  Or was the silverback display strategic in his posturing as an underboss?

  As for his clothes, he wore an immaculately tailored suit with pristine black dress shoes. I’d noted a platinum Rolex on his left wrist when I first arrived but that was the only accessory he sported, if you didn’t count the tattoos dotting the backs of his hands.

  I hated to admit it, but he was striking … in a purely clinical sense. He was a dichotomy. An enigma. Ruthless gangster swathed in the skin of a genteel businessman. Many of the men I dealt with were little more than thugs, regardless of the image they tried to project. De Luca was the real deal—vicious claws sheathed in refinement and class.

  He held interest.

  Did I have any other observations? “No,” I replied.

  None that I cared to share.

  There it was again—amusement. Was I imagining it? No. There was a glint in his calculating green eyes.

  I didn’t want him to find me entertaining. This was a business arrangement, not an episode of The Bachelor.

  “In that case, why don’t we have a seat. There’s a number of matters we’ll need to discuss.” He motioned toward a set of modern armchairs in his upscale Manhattan apartment. “Can I get you a drink?”

  “No, thank you.” I’d intentionally set our meeting for 9 a.m. to discourage possible preconceptions that this was any sort of a date. There were to be no drinks or swapping of bodily fluids, and certainly, no professions of feelings. “I’m not sure what your motivations are, but I assure you, as far as I’m concerned, this arrangement is purely business.”

  He eased himself into the chair across from me with the grace of a panther sizing up its next meal. “Then it sounds like we’re on the same page. Our families would benefit greatly from uniting, and our marriage is the most thorough, yet succinct way of bringing that about.”

  “Agreed.”

  “However,” he continued more slowly. “The people around us are not idiots. A sham marriage won’t convince the masses to befriend one another. I hope you understand there is a role you will need to play, and you will need to do so convincingly. There is no point to the charade if the world c
an see behind our masks.”

  Just when the tension in my shoulders had eased at our mutual understanding, the muscles clamped back down. What exactly was he trying to say? “I can do what’s necessary in public, but that’s as far as this ruse will go. I’m not going to live a lie in my own home. If I don’t want to talk to you, then I won’t. And if I fuck you, it’s because I feel like it, and not out of any sense of … duty.”

  “What’s necessary will be public displays of affection. Nothing overt, but you aren’t exactly the pliant type. Will you be able to not only tolerate my touch but actually appear to enjoy it?” He was throwing down the gauntlet with the lift of one angular brow.

  I never was one to back down from a challenge.

  Rising to my feet, I closed the gap between us and straddled his lap. Thank God I’d gone for the strapless jumper instead of a dress that morning. I wanted to make a statement, not offer myself on a silver platter.

  I moved excruciatingly slow, holding his gaze captive as I threaded my fingers through his thick hair and lowered myself inch by inch onto his muscled thighs. “Never doubt me or my abilities to do whatever is necessary,” I purred inches from his ear. I sat back, unflinching, when his warm hands gripped my waist.

  If he only knew how repulsive I found him, he’d realize just how convincingly I could play the part. As it was, there was a smoky heat in his green gaze that made me wonder if he was buying into the act himself—if he thought something might evolve between us. Not a chance.

  “What if you and I disagree on what is necessary?”

  “Don’t you think I know what it takes to look like a woman in love?”

  His grip on my waist tightened, and the air around us shifted like a switch had been flipped. As if we were in a sauna and water had been thrown on the blazing rocks to billow hot steam in the air.

  “Perhaps we should test that.”

  His hand whipped up to clasp the back of my neck and force my lips forward, crashing against his. I was frozen. Stunned. His fingers nearly circled all the way around my neck like a collar. My lips started to function before my brain, pressing against his. Testing. Before I knew it, my tongue swept out and tasted the mint residue on his lips. The delicious coolness made my stomach twist with a gnawing hunger. The sensation was enough to snap me back to reality as air from his lungs filled my own.

  What is wrong with me?

  Hatred bubbled and oozed from deep inside me.

  At him. At myself.

  Flinging myself up and over the back of the chair, I wrapped an arm around his throat and squeezed. For a second, I felt the rewarding contractions of his throat battling against my arm like a mouse in the coils of a python. But it didn’t take him long to adjust to the circumstances and fling himself and the chair crashing backward.

  My grip loosened enough to give him precious air, but I refused to lose my hold on him—it was by far my best strategy against him. I ended up squatting behind where he lay in the upended chair, my arm still around his neck but at a much less advantageous angle. De Luca did a shoulder roll backward, using his brute strength to break free of my grasp. On our knees, just inches apart, both heaving for breath, we glared at one another.

  “Don’t ever touch me again without my consent.” I spoke softly, underlining the severity of my threat.

  “You gave your consent the minute you ground yourself against my cock.”

  “That was a demonstration—not an invitation—and you knew it.”

  He studied me with growing curiosity, as though I was a new species of animal rather than his future wife. “If your gut reaction is to kill me rather than kiss me, this whole thing will never work.” He rose to his feet, wiping off invisible dust. “Today was supposed to be about introductions and getting to know one another, but I believe the meet and greet is over.”

  I ran my hand over my hair, attempting to coax my waves back into place as tendrils of doubt nipped at my conscience like pesky minnows. “Are you backing out of the arrangement?”

  “No, simply calling an end to round one.”

  Interesting. Most men would have labelled me crazy and walked the other way. Part of me would have rejoiced that I’d won, but a larger part of me would have recognized how severely I had let my father down.

  He casually checked his watch and continued. “You are not my only commitment this morning. I’ll take your word that you can hold up your end of the bargain. There’s plenty of time for us to figure out the finer details of our relationship. However, there are a couple important issues we need to resolve before you go. I spend most of my days at an estate in the Hamptons owned by my boss. I’ll need you to live there with me.”

  “It’s not just owned by your boss—he lives there as well, correct? You want me to live in a house with Angelo Sartori?” He was known as the most ruthless mafia boss in modern decades. A shade less than deranged. Not exactly who I’d want to share coffee with in the mornings.

  The one thing I’d give him was that he never even attempted to hide his crazy. Most people tried to cover that shit up with a thick layer of concealer and a fake tan. Men like the Gallo capo Stefano Mariano and my Uncle Sal. Those were men you needed to fear. Men who kissed babies and gave to charity to disguise their rotten souls.

  “Yes, but he’s become rather reclusive. I doubt you’ll even see him.”

  “Why exactly do you live there?” Most men, especially powerful men, preferred the sanctity of their own homes.

  “Logistically, it was easier. Plus, the view is unmatched.” He was unruffled by my challenge. I wondered what it would take to stir an emotional response from the impassive man. Even my attack had hardly roused a feather in his perfectly coifed headdress. It had taken me years to get my own raw emotions under control, but De Luca seemed to be naturally composed.

  I held his stoic gaze for several heartbeats as I weighed my options. “One misstep by your boss, and I’m gone. I won’t live with a madman.”

  “It’s not an issue.”

  “Fine. Do you have a date for the ceremony?”

  “I don’t, but your father and I discussed holding an Independence Day barbeque at the estate. If you have no objections, we could use the event to announce our engagement and go from there.”

  Less than two weeks.

  Once we made an official announcement, there would be no going back.

  For a second, my vision swam. I’d forgotten to breathe. I wasn’t sure why discussing dates affected me. It wasn’t like I’d planned to marry and was giving up some lifelong dream of settling down with Prince Charming.

  So why was my heart suddenly rioting in my chest?

  The marriage changed nothing.

  Repeating the mantra, I took in a steadying breath. “Fine. Is there anything else?” There was no need to discuss a prenup—a mafia marriage of this caliber would be for life. Everything else could be sorted out later.

  The need to leave clawed at me like a feral cat.

  “I think we should at least exchange numbers,” he suggested, as he rose and pulled his phone from his breast pocket.

  I listed off the digits to my cell and turned toward the door.

  “Maria, you’re forgetting one more thing.”

  I glanced back, cursing my treacherous stomach for reacting to his voice.

  De Luca closed the distance between us, taking my left hand in his. “Don’t hit me,” he muttered.

  I looked down at our point of contact and watched as he slid a diamond ring on my finger. I didn’t want to like it, but I had no choice. It was exquisite. Not overly ostentatious but clearly a custom design. Most women saw a ring as the perfect embodiment of their commitment to love. I saw nothing but a sparkling life sentence.

  I lifted my gaze to peer up at him and found his eyes fixed on my face. He’d been watching my reaction. Reading me—his scrutiny like tiny ants tickling my skin.

  “I hope you’re not expecting me to simper like an idiot. That’s not me.”

  “
I thought this was business.” His voice was the rumble of distant thunder.

  I hated what the sound did to my insides.

  His lingering hand released mine, and my eyes dropped to his chest.

  “Of course … it is,” I stammer. “That’s what I meant.” I scolded myself ruthlessly for stumbling around like an awkward teenager.

  Matteo De Luca had the ability to turn me upside down. One week with him, and I would be Alice falling down the rabbit hole, with no idea how to get home. He was possibly the greatest threat I’d ever faced, and I had no choice but to walk myself right into his web.

  Without a goodbye, I turned toward the exit, hoping my need to flee wasn’t too obvious.

  “It was lovely meeting you, Maria,” he called out behind me, but I didn’t acknowledge his words.

  Opening the front door, I made my way toward the elevator. It was an exercise in restraint not to speed up my steps. De Luca would be watching me, and I didn’t want to give him any more evidence that he had affected me in any way. No doubt he already assumed his size and station had intimidated me, and that couldn’t have been further from the truth. I hadn’t been scared of anything since I was a child. I simply wanted to be free of him and anyone else who thought to control me.

  I prized my independence above all else—all but the family.

  My father’s mafia outfit had saved my life. Gave me purpose. Direction.

  It was an organization of men who lived outside the laws of modern society. Their unique code of silence and violence enabled me to channel the hatred that festered inside me until I could control it. Wield it. My father and his men transformed me from a reckless, sniveling child on the verge of self-destruction into a powerful woman capable of sending men to their knees and enemies to their graves.

  I owed them everything.

  Handing my life over to the outfit by means of an arranged marriage was hardly a sacrifice. I would have already been long dead had it not been for them. That was why I adhered to our code so stringently. My life was owed to the outfit, and I would live unerringly by its rules.