Bloodlines: A Bad Boy Secret Baby Romance (The Snake Eyes Series Book 4) (4 page)

A Zappia woman is a slave.

I added in the last one myself.

“Sofia?”

I turn around to see Rosalie peeking her head into my room. Her expression changes from one of pleasant interest to quick judgment.

“What are you doing?”
she snaps, closing the bedroom door behind her. She motions for me to come back in. “You’re not supposed to be outside.”

I roll my eyes, not caring that she can’t see them behind the thick, black veil, and stay in place on my balcony. “I’m not supposed to
leave my room
,” I say. “Last I checked, this balcony was included in that.”

“You’re not supposed to speak either.”

I look at her again and sigh. Her long, brown hair hangs about her youthful face, strands clinging to the sweat-covered cheeks. “What have you been doing?” I ask her.

“Dressing the guest rooms,” she says, pushing the hair off her face. “The Lutrova family is coming today.”

I nod as my memories instantly rush back to that day in the garden. That was the last time I saw the Lutrova boys. They’ve been here a few times since then but I was never allowed to go near them again. Beatrix feared I was
too tempted.
I can’t say she was wrong about that.

My attentions wander back over the balcony and I gaze into the garden, following the trail all the way to the shed in the back between the trees.

Rosalie joins me on the balcony. “Perhaps
my
future husband will be among the guests…” she muses with fantasy in her eyes.

I scoff. “Well, as your life maiden, little sister, believe me when I say you don’t want to be a bride—”

She slaps my shoulder. “Don’t be foolish, Sofia. I’d kill to be in your black shoes right now. Gio is
dreamy
…”

I bite my lip to hold back my disgust. My little sister is young and stupidly naive — the perfect Zappia bride, in theory. “If you want him, he’s all yours, Rosalie.”

I don’t mean a word of it. I’d rather my little sister be dead than be Gio’s bride.

She hits me again, her eyes glancing around for nonexistent listeners. “You shouldn’t talk like that. You shouldn’t be talking
at all…
”

“I’m allowed to talk to you,” I point out. “I’ve broken no vow.”

Rosalie sighs. “But don’t you want to be
pure
for Gio in every way? They say that every word you speak during your vow of silence brings one year of hardship to your marriage.”

I stare at her through the black filter. “Good.”

She tilts her head at me but says nothing, most likely to deter me from speaking again.

One year of hardship. I might as well be reciting poetry from dawn until dusk. If that superstition is true, then I should speak ten thousand words to ensure that Giovani Zappia dies a miserable, broken, old man.

I smile.

It feels strange, so incredibly out of place that it makes me dizzy. The very thought of Gio dying alone, embarrassed, and humiliated makes me
smile
. I have not smiled like this since…

I look over the balcony again at that distant garden shed.

A bolt of warmth surges down my spine until it tickles my toes but it disappears just as quickly.

Rosalie nudges my ribs. “Chin up, Sofia,” she says, her voice chipper than ever.

“You can’t even tell it’s down.”

“I’m your life maiden. I can
feel
it.”

She throws an arm around me and we both look out into the distance together — or what we can see of it. Life outside of the epic walls of the Zappia estate is one of pure mystery to both of us.

We were sent here to Rome as young children. Our parents died after she was born and the Zappia family was
generous
enough to take us in. However, we have never been treated as family. We shared a room in the servant’s quarters until I turned seven. Then, I was moved into the main house where Beatrix began training me in the Zappia way.

A Zappia woman must never speak to a man outside of her bloodline.

A Zappia woman is always eager to please her kin.

A Zappia woman greets each new day with a smile.

That’s when she told me about the marriage. It was all Antony’s idea; bring me into the house, train me in their ways, and pair me with one their boys to continue their bloodline for a new generation.

Enzo, as the oldest, was to focus on the business. Marty was younger than I am and since a Zappia bride may not be superior to her husband in any way (age included), he was deemed ineligible for the union.

That left Gio.

He’s claimed ownership of me ever since.

I am
his
. He’d bark it at anyone that would listen — family, friends, visitors — even his own mother when she dared to disagree with him at where I should sit at the table or what I would wear to church on Sunday morning.

I couldn’t do a thing to stop it. I had no voice, no say. Any attempt to speak out was met with the threat of an open palm.

My only solace comes in my dreams. A gentle hand will appear in the darkness, beckoning me to take it. I’ll look up and the boy would gaze down at me with his big, gray eyes. He’ll smile and I’ll hear his voice calling out to me.

“Come on out… I won’t hurt you.”

I reach for him but his hand fades away into the black mist before I can grab it.

Luka Lutrova.

The boy in the garden shed with kindness in his eyes.

I often wonder about him; heir of the Lutrova crime family. Has the life of a Russian mobster turned him as cold as Antony is? I hope not. I suppose I’ll find out soon enough.

Rosalie tugs my arm. “Come on… you should get inside before someone sees you out.”

I let her guide me back in but I pause as a black car passes by in the distance, just barely grazing my peripheral vision. “Wait…”

I crane my neck to see it roll down the driveway and disappear around to the front of the estate.

“The Lutrovas, I bet…” Rosalie hums.

“Already?”

She nods. “They’ve come for the wedding rehearsal, of course. Speaking of which, we should get you ready. It’s in an hour.”

I gesture down the black dress covering me from my neck to my toes, stopping at the veil concealing my face. “I think I’m ready, Rosalie.”

She winks. “Doesn’t mean you can’t throw on a little lipstick, too.”

I shake my head but I let her lead me off the balcony anyway.

Chapter 4

Luka

It’s been several years since I’ve set foot on the Zappia estate. It hasn’t changed at all. The lawn is still brightly decorated with vibrant flowers and large, neatly-trimmed trees. The stone wall surrounding the grounds has seen better days but still appears as daunting as it ever was, even with the vines clawing their way to the top.

My eyes catch two differences as I step out of our car: Colorful lanterns hang from wires, draped from spike-to-spike up the long driveway and a heavy increase in security. Both can be explained by the important wedding taking place tomorrow. I count at least a half-dozen men on the drive alone, plus another four just outside the back garden and another three near—

Yuri nudges my ribs.
“Drop the shield,”
he teases. “It’s a
wedding
.”

I say nothing and keep my eyes open. My brother clearly doesn’t understand the duties of being the Lutrova family bodyguard. Being on the Zappia estate is no excuse to slack off. I don’t care how
safe
the rest of them think we’ll be this weekend. Ally or no ally, I would never trust a Zappia with my life.

I take my mother’s hand and help her out of the car as the front door flies open and Giovani steps outside with raised arms.

“The Lutrovas!” he greets. “You’re just in time.”

My father bounds up the steps towards him. “Gio — my god — you’ve grown up!”

“I should hope so. It’s the day before my wedding!” he jokes.

My father shakes his hand and shows a genuine admiration for Gio’s tight grip.

The last time I saw Gio, he was short and pudgy with a red, pock-marked nose. His skin has cleared up since then and he’s shed the extra pounds but he’s still a wimp, hovering only a few centimeters taller than my mother.

She bounds up the stairs and exchanges a kiss on the cheek with him. “I don’t know how you Zappia boys grow more handsome every time I see you,” she quips, flashing a smile. “Your poor mother must pray daily for all the girls your brothers torture.”

Gio keeps his smile but I see that look gloss over his eyes as he stares back at her. That
how dare this woman speak to me
look. “I guarantee you she does, Madam Lutrova. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

I smirk. My mother has never purposefully shown disrespect to the Zappias or their ways but I feel great pride in the fact that she’s never once allowed their rules to affect her behavior on their estate. Nina Lutrova does whatever she fucking wants and no man — Russian or Italian alike — will tell her otherwise.

Gio steps to the side and allows for my parents to walk in while extending a hand to Yuri. “And you two,” he says, nodding. “I am very grateful to the two of you.” He lays an open palm on his chest. “Thank you for agreeing to be a part of my family’s special day. It means a lot to me — and Sofia.”

I bite my tongue, swallowing my reply. We never had a choice in the matter to begin with and it pains me even more to hear him speak for Sofia yet again. While I haven’t seen the girl since that day in the shed, I heard her name often during the sporadic trips we made to this estate.
Sofia will wear this. Sofia will have that for supper. Sofia will stay in her room until the Lutrovas have taken their leave.

Yuri snorts. “Are you kidding? We’ve been looking forward to it. We love weddings!”

I force a smile and offer my hand to Gio. “Yes, we’re happy to be here.”

We shake hands and Gio grins, revealing a full mouth of crooked, off-white teeth. “I’m glad to hear it,” he says.

“Gio!” my mother calls from the front hall. “Where exactly can I find your mother? I have been dying to catch up with her.”

“I believe she’s in the guest wing tending to your rooms, Madam Lutrova,” he answers, doing his best to hide his utter contempt for her. I smirk again. “I’ll be happy to see you all there myself.”

“Excellent!”

We follow Gio into the front hall and my senses spike as I take in the surroundings. The inside is just as guarded as the outside with an armed suit stationed at each open doorway. I wonder if this is normal Zappia family gathering behavior or if my family should take it personally.

“Gio, how is your father’s business in Chicago?” my father asks. “Still thriving, I assume?”

“More than thriving,” Gio answers, guiding us through the long, ornate corridors with wood carvings and giant paintings covering every inch of the walls. Why the Zappias must go over-the-top with every aspect of their lives is beyond me. “The casino is more successful than ever and Enzo just opened his first business downtown — a deli, I believe.”

“And Marty? What of him?”

“Oh, little Marty does what he does best,” Gio chuckles. “Which is not much at all.”

“Just give him time,” my father says. “He will find his place in the family.”

“Last I heard, he had his eye on working security.” Gio glances back at me. “Maybe you can offer him a few tips, Luka? He’s a bit squeamish.”

“He’ll grow out of that,” I mutter.

“I hope so, too,” he says. “Until then, he bankrupts losers at my father’s poker tables — which, I admit, is not
un
helpful but he could be doing more for the family.”

I’d love to know what the fuck Giovani Zappia does all day to help
the family
but I hold back my scoff.

We round a corner and I pause, my eyes instantly pulled all the way down the opposite corridor. I recognize Rosalie’s petite face and that permanent smile she always seems to have etched onto her mouth but I don’t keep my attentions on her for longer than a second.

I lock onto the girl in black.

The gown covers every inch of her skin from head-to-toe, along with a translucent veil that obscures her face. My mother told me of the barbaric wedding traditions passed down through the Zappia line but I honestly thought she made most of it up. Now that I see it, I wonder how much of it really is true.

Rosalie pauses and yanks on Sofia’s arm, offering me a short, gentle curtsy as she scurries along. I watch them leave, admiring the bride’s graceful movements, even if she is weighed down by the black garb.

Sofia whips her head back, casting one final glance at me before she disappears around the corner.