Bound by my blood

Chapter three

Vincenzo Lombardo moves through the back garden like a storm wrapped in expensive fabric. His presence is a gravitational force, commanding attention without effort. He doesn't walk- he prowls- each step deliberate, exuding an effortless confidence that borders on arrogance.

The golden glow of the garden lights catches on the sharp angles of his face, highlighting the brutal perfection of his features. High cheekbones, a strong jaw, and full lips that look like they were sculpted by a god. But it's his eyes that stop me dead in my tracks- they are bottomless pools of obsidian.

And he's looking at me.

Something about the weight of his stare makes my breath hitch. My skin tingles under his scrutiny, and an unfamiliar heat coils low in my stomach. This isn't fair. No one should look this devastatingly good, especially not the man I am being forced to marry.

I expected an older man. Someone hardened and cruel, with salt-and-pepper hair and a belly softened by years of indulgence. Instead, I got him.

Vincenzo's gaze flicks over me, slow and assessing, before a flicker of disapproval crosses his face. His expression is unreadable, but there's something noticeably dark lurking. His already midnight eyes seem to darken further.

I realise, with no small amount of embarrassment, that I've been blatantly eye-fucking him.

I snap my gaze away, the heat in my cheeks betraying me. My eyes land on Jax, my best friend, who stands stiffly beside my brother. My stomach twists. It's cruel that he has to be here, caught in this world because of his position in the mob, before my eyes find Vincenzo again unconsciously.

His lips are twitching, amusement dancing in his expression as he catches the blush that I fail to hide. He has already caught me. The bastard knows, and he's enjoying it.

At least he was before he  follows where my gaze had snapped earlier, his sharp eyes locking onto Jax. The easy smirk disappears. His posture tenses, his shoulders squaring like a man preparing for war. Almost as if he knows what Jax is to me.

"Welcome, Mr. Lombardo, to our home" Mamma's voice slices through the thick tension, warm but laced with caution, "Would you like a drink?"

Vincenzo tears his gaze away from Jax finally at my mamma's voice and when he speaks, his voice is low and smooth- like the first sip of an expensive whiskey.

 "Yes, please, Mrs. Castillo. My padre is waiting for me at the hotel, so I'll only have something small."

It's a simple response, but there's something in the way he speaks—calm, composed, yet laced with quiet dominance—that sends a ripple of... something through me.

Mamma gestures for one of the housekeepers to bring a tray of the best scotch. I try to focus on anything but Vincenzo's presence, which is made easier by Babbo steps beside me, his voice dropping to a whisper only I can hear.

"Alexa, think of this as an apology gift."

I blink in surprise as he places a box of chocolate cake into my hands.

My heart clenches. Babbo never apologizes—not with words. But this? This is his way of making amends.

A slow grin spreads across my face. Without thinking, I rip off a piece of the cake and pop it into my mouth, savouring the rich, decadent taste. The chocolate melts against my tongue, the bitterness perfectly balanced by the sweet frosting.

Jax chuckles at my unladylike behaviour, but Vincenzo's plus one—a stiff, overdressed man—looks utterly scandalized, his lip curling in distaste. I resist the urge to flick crumbs at him just to see his reaction.

Vincenzo clears his throat, dragging my attention back to him. 

"Alexandria," he says smoothly, "we need to talk. Before dinner."

His tone leaves no room for argument.

I roll my eyes but nod, handing my cake to Jax, "If you eat any of my cake, I will cut your hands off."

Jax lifts his hands in surrender, but his small smile lingers.

Then, before I can react, Vincenzo is on me.

His fingers close around my own hand- not harshly, but with an unshakable grip, a silent warning, but not one for me. The touch is firm... possessive.  Heat radiates from his palm, and for a moment, I can feel the raw power coiled beneath his skin. He is staking his claim over me in front of Jax.

He doesn't lead me away—he takes me.

My feet are moving  before my brain catches up, my heart hammering in my chest as he pulls me toward the koi pond, away from the others. The night air is cool, but it does nothing to quell the fire coursing through my veins.

When we reach the water's edge, Vincenzo finally stops, turning to face me. The glow from the garden lanterns casts golden streaks across his sharp cheekbones, but his eyes remain unreadable, dark and stormy.

"If this is going to happen," he murmurs, voice low and deadly, "then I don't want you near him."

I blink, "what?"

"You heard me." His jaw tightens, "I don't want you near him. You are mine, and I will not tolerate other men— friend or not—looking at you like that."

I take a step back, but he follows, closing the distance between us in a heartbeat. His scent—clean, masculine, with a hint of expensive cologne—wraps around me like a second skin.

My breath catches.

"You can't do that," I hiss, forcing my voice to stay steady, "he's my best friend."

Vincenzo doesn't flinch, "That does not concern me."

I scoff, "You're insane."

His lips curve into something dark and wicked, "You are my fiancée, Alexandria. My future wife. And you are acting and dressing like—"

He stops himself, but the damage is done. I know exactly what he was about to say.

A bitter laugh escapes my lips. 

"Say it," I taunt, lifting my chin, "go ahead. Say it."

His fingers flex at his sides, like he's debating whether to reach for me again as I take a few steps away from him. His silence is answer enough.

He exhales slowly, running a hand through his dark hair. 

"It does not matter," he murmurs, "This marriage is happening."

I swallow hard, my throat tight, "Do you want this?"

The question lingers between us as heavy as a stone.

He studies me for a long moment before answering. 

"It does not matter" His voice is softer now, but no less resolute, "My family is everything. Marrying you strengthens our position. That is what matters."

A lump forms in my throat.

I let out a small, humourless laugh, "Right. Because power is all that counts."

He doesn't deny it.

Instead, he takes a step back, his gaze never leaving mine, "Do you want this?"

I force myself to meet his eyes, to hold his gaze even as something inside me threatens to crack.

"No," I say bluntly,  "But I will do it to protect the people I love."

He nods. Just once. Then, without another word, he turns and walks away, disappearing into the night.

I let my legs give out, sinking onto the cold stone edge of the pond. The koi glide through the water, unbothered, their movements fluid and effortless.

I envy them.

Because at least they are free.