Page 20

19

SADIE

It’s been two weeks since Matteo took me to visit the Mansion. Two weeks since Hawk sent me that bullshit email laying down rules and threatening the condition of my ass if I don’t bring said ass home immediately.

Arrogant fuckhead.

He told me how he was going to tie me down and blindfold me, taking away all my senses as he did whatever deliciously wicked things he wanted to my body until I give myself completely over to his control.

Double fuckhead!

He told me to leave . Said he couldn’t trust me. I’m a selfish, reckless, child. And now all of the sudden, when I give him exactly what he wants by leaving, he wants me to come home and fall back into his bed like I’m some club girl pining for his attention.

Fuck that! And fuck him!

No. There can be no fucking at all when it comes to Hawk. Not now that I know he can’t give me what I need.

After spending a week at the Mansion observing and being exposed to so many things I never thought I would be interested in, I discovered things about myself. It’s probably why Hawk’s words hit differently.

He has no idea how badly I want to be able to give myself over, to not have to always make the decisions or have control. I’d happily submit myself to all the things he’s describing, if I thought he meant it and I wouldn’t just be another crazy night of sex. I watched those couples in the Mansion. The things they did weren’t just about getting off and fucking in different positions or in public. There was so much more to their dynamics. Sure, there were multiple orgasms and the push and pull of pain with pleasure, but it was the aftercare that I thought made it so much more. The idea of being cared for, genuinely praised and adored, opened my eyes to the fact I it’s something I need, crave, and will never have with Hawk.

He'll call me a good girl and kiss my forehead, but he doesn’t understand that’s not enough. The night we slept together was so intense, and my emotions were all over the place. I felt things I’ve never felt before. At one point I was floating, and then in the next I felt afraid, unsure. But he just laid his claim and that was the end of it for him. Where I was spinning out of control mentally and emotionally, he was firmly set that he had gotten his way. And maybe I would’ve adjusted and sorted through those emotions if he hadn’t swept the rug out from under me so soon after.

Hawk’s way of taking control is to take over. In the bedroom, I’m absolutely down with letting him take over. I trust him to take me to places I’ve never imagined sexually, but in the day-to-day stuff- my business, my friends, my choices- I want to be able to make my own decisions. I want a partner who will trust me to make smart decisions and not always assume I’m up to the worst or getting into trouble, that I can’t take care of myself. I want someone who will see me as a woman and not a spoiled child in need of constant correction.

And it hurts to know I won’t have that with him.

He didn’t even listen when I tried to explain about Thomas and Nate. He went straight to me being a traitor and not worthy enough to be his.

“Ugghhh!” I shout to the young woman staring back at me in the en suite mirror. I’ve just taken a shower and have put on the new outfit Matteo bought for me to wear to this gala thing he’s been invited to. I’ve been to parties with rich people before, but this is on a whole other level for me. I wish Avery was here. She would tell me what to do and how to act. She hated being dressed up and paraded around like a show pony to all her grandparents’ friends, but you would never have known it by looking at her. Me on the other hand, I have a fucking tickertape running across my damn forehead that lets everyone know exactly what I’m thinking without ever having said a word.

“Miss Sadie?” I’m startled out of my mental breakdown by Marta’s sweet voice on the other side of the door. I unlock it and find her standing with her hands crossed in front of her, greeting me with a soft smile.

“You look beautiful, my dear. I’ve come to help you with your hair. Mr. Parisi would like you to wear it half up and away from your face. May I come in?”

I move back and allow her space to come into the bathroom with me. She pulls a small bench seat over to the vanity and ushers me to sit.

“This dress is beautiful on you dear. The dark blue makes your eyes sparkle like sapphires.” I give a small smile at her compliment and silently will my heart to ignore the pain it causes.

“Oh, sweetheart. It was meant to be a compliment not to make you cry.” She hands me a tissue to wipe my face. I hate that I can’t stop this hurt I feel.

“I think I’m just a little homesick.” I say as way of explanation. “My best friend used to go to these kinds of parties, and I guess I just wish she was here to attend with me. You know how girls are. We feel stronger in numbers.”

Marta gives my cheek a light pat with her hand and smiles. “You’ll do fine. Mr. Parisi will guide you. These wealthy families can be difficult to be around sometimes, but Mr. Parisi is not like them. Just follow his lead. He’ll make sure you have a wonderful time.”

We spend the next thirty minutes in silence and Marta curls the ends of my hair, pulling the sides up in what she calls victory rolls. My hair looks like something out of a vintage magazine, but it doesn’t feel out of place. I feel…elegant. Not something someone like me usually gets to say. But I like it.

When I finally make my way to the front room where Matteo and Sergio are sitting having a drink, they both pause their conversation and immediately get to their feet. Matteo’s eyes sweep over me, and again it’s not in a sexual manner, but I still feel a strange flip in my stomach at his perusal.

“You look radiant, Dolcezza.” He says. Sergio smiles, nodding his agreement.

“Thank-you.”

Matteo places his drink on the table, coming to stand beside me he crooks his elbow for me to take hold of. “Shall we?” I nod and do as Marta said. I follow Matteo’s lead.

We arrive at the gala right on time. There are crowds of people and photographers outside the building waiting to see the guests as they arrive. I keep my head up and my eyes straight forward, smiling as Matteo pushes us past the crowd. He doesn’t seem to care about all the cameras and the fact he’s a made man about to be plastered all over the internet and tabloids tomorrow morning. I don’t mind much either except for the fact if Hawk sees it, he’ll know where to look for me.

Matteo leans in close, speaking where only I can hear. “Don’t worry about the people or the crowds. You’re here with me as my date, my woman. So, let’s give thema show, shall we?” His lips caress my temple and his hand on my waist tightens ever so slightly. “Smile, Dolcezza. We’re meant to be in love.”

I lean into him, placing my hand on his chest, allowing him to lead me through the room. I use this moment to silently assess my surrounding.

Sergio would be proud.

I chuckle to myself, earning a quizzical look from Matteo who smiles back. To anyone around us it would appear we’re having a jovial conversation, but truthfully, it’s just my nerves getting the better of me.

“Sorry. Sometimes I get the giggles when I’m nervous.” I whisper. Matteos’s smile widens, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief.

“You think you’re nervous? Most of these men have probably already pissed themselves the moment they saw the Underboss of the Parisi empire walking into their precious gala with an invitation that no one recalls sending.”

I pull back to look him in the eyes. He appears playful, but the information he’s just told me causes a giggle to bubble out of me. I quickly cover my mouth to hold it in.

“You mean to tell me you weren’t actually invited? We just crashed a charity gala with a room full of rich snobs, for the fun of it?” I can’t help it. I lean inot his shoulder to hid emy face as I laugh. “How did you get an invitation then? I saw you hand it to the man at the door when we came inside.”

Matteo shrugs, looking almost sheepish. “You’re not the only one with skills, Dolcezza. I have my ways. Now, let’s get you noticed, and dance, shall we?”

The music playing is more of an upbeat waltz, which of course I don’t know how to dance to, but Matteo seems to have all the right moves, so I follow his lead. Soon enough, photographers are snapping our picture, other couples are standing on the side of the dancefloor watching, murmuring. A few couples make their way out to join us, but we pay them no mind. We’re enjoying the music and simple conversation, discussing mundane things like the color scheme and the ridiculous ice sculpture across the room. We talk as if we’re great friends, even making fun of other people and their hairstyles. It’s a pleasant change from what’s become our normal interactions.

We don’t talk about rules, or weapons, or strategies for survival. Tonight, we’re just two people having a good time at a party we were never meant to be at.

If only Hawk could see me now.

I’m not even to blame for getting us on the guest list. For once, I didn’t play a part in messing with someone’s system. I genuinely knew nothing about it, and it makes me smile.

Finally, something that’s not my fault.

After four songs, Matteo leads me off the dance floor to a table with black place cards with our names written in silver cursive. I check the other name cards and find names I don’t recognize.

“Who are these people?” I ask Matteo.

He shrugs. “Rich assholes.” I give him a side glance and he smiles, kissing my temple.

He surprises me when he takes his seat and drags me down to his lap, whispering in my ear, “Relax. These people are nobody to us. We’re here as guests like everyone else. Our only goal tonight is to gain the attention of Cusenza’s men.”

“You think he’ll be here?”

“Cusenza won’t, no. But he sends his scouts. Men with money and an eye for beauty.” He kisses my bare shoulder, and I fight not to react.

We’ve practiced this. Relax. Act natural. Breathe.

A short, stout man with thinning gray hair and a mustache reaches to shake Matteo’s hand, not caring that I’m perched on his lap. “So, good to see you, Mr. Parisi. Will your, uh, the other Mr. Parisi be attending this evening?”

“No. I’m afraid he’s away on business. He sent me in his stead.”

The slit on the side of my dress has fallen open revealing my thigh. Matteo moves his hand from my waist to the exposed skin, giving it a light squeeze. I lean back into his hold, placing my hand atop his. The man looks me over from head to toe. His eyes land on our joined hands and his eyes widen.

“I see.” The man’s smile suggests he’s thinking something inappropriate. The slight tenting of his trousers prove it. “Who’s your friend?” He reaches his hand out to take mine. I lean up, differing to Matteo, a subtle look asking permission to touch another man. Matteo smirks, but gives a nod of approval.

The gentlemen, and I use the term loosely, takes my hand in his and kisses it. His mouth lingering much longer than necessary. Matteo notices it too, and snatches my hand back, glaring at the man. I almost feel bad for the guy. I’ve been on the receiving end of that raised brown and half snarl. It can be quite intimidating.

“Of course. It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss…?”

“Not yours.” It’s the only answer Matteo gives in response.

“I-I see. Of course. I should be going. Good to see you both.” He scurries away and I turn to Matteo to ask, “Who was that beady little man?”

“Lester Boulvine.” Matteo answers. “He owns several shipping and parcel stores. He pays an exorbitant amount of money to attend these events. He’s known for handling special deliveries.” His eyebrow arches. Drugs. I nod understanding. “He has his own couriers who work for his company that he pays extra to run deliveries off the books for special clientele and a customized fee, of course.”

“Hmm.” I grumble. “And is he one of the men you think could be shopping for other products this evening?”

“The way he was eyeing you with lustful intentions, I’d say it’s highly probable.”

“In that case, I’ll be right back.” I lean up, smiling as I plant a light kiss to Matteo’s lips. It’s all for show of course, but if we’re going to get attention, I’ll have to be alone. “I need a drink.” Matteo’s eyes narrow. He nods to Sergio, who I didn’t even see in the corner.

“Sergio will accompany you to the bar.” He quirks that eyebrow again, and I know not to argue.

I let out a little huff and roll my eyes earning me a light slap to the ass and I yelp. “Behave, Dolcezza.”

“Always.” I laugh. Matteo helps me get to my feet. Sergio comes to my side, ushering me with a wave of his hand. I turn to head to the bar and run smack into a hard chest. When I look up, a set of dark brown eyes are looking back at me and a devilish smirk my gut tells me not to trust.

“My apologies, Miss?” The loud scraping sound of a chair fills the sir behind me and Matteo’s hands come to my waist, holding me in place. I tip my head back, remembering not to speak to anyone unless he gives permission. The handsome man watches and seems pleased with our interaction.

Matteo gives a shake of his head, and I immediately avert my eyes from the stranger’s.

“Go, Dolcezza. Sergio will get you a drink. Make sure you come right back afterward.”

“I need to use the restroom, sir.” I look to Matteo and wait.

He nods. “Sergio, stay with her. She’s to talk to no one and come straight back.”

“Understood.” Sergio replies, crooking his arm out for me to take hold. Again, I differ to Matteo. I feel ridiculous having to ask permission to touch another man, but it seems to intrigue the stranger standing before me.

“It’s all right, Dolcezza. But only Sergio.” I nod and reply with a timid, “Of course, sir.” And head out to the hallway where the restrooms are located.

Once we’re clear of the ballroom, I tug Sergio’s arm and whisper, “Who was that?”

“Senator Steven McAllister.” Sergio says with a sneer. “Stay away from him. Understand?”

“Understood.”

I’m confused as to why they both seem so pissed to see this person, but I can tell by Sergio’s demeanor, there’s something personal between the Senator and the Parisi’s. I won’t ask now, but I will find out once I can get back to my computer.

We reach the bathroom, and Sergio posts up outside the door. I walk inside and do my business and wash up. As I’m checking my hair in the mirror, a brunette in a beautiful red dress comes through the door a little giggly, and I immediately recognize her as the agent in the files I snagged from Trident.

What the hell is she doing here?

She bumps into my on her way to the sink but quickly turns to apologize.

“Oh. I’m so sorry. I love that dress on you.” Her sickly-sweet tone irritates the shit out of me. It reminds me of Candi when she’s buttering up to Hawk or Cash.

“Thank-you. I like yours too.” It’s a lie. I don’t like anything about this woman and I’m madder than shit to see her here.

An FBI agent attending one of these galas isn’t unheard of, however they rarely come dressed up. They’re usually part of someone big-wig’s security detail, which makes me wonder, who is she here with? I know she’s been looking into Vincenzo and his family, as well as the Kings. Maybe she’s here for Matteo, but then why dress up? Is she looking to get his attention? Maybe trying to turn his head and get him to take her home?

Matteo is no fool. He would see right through her little act.

I don’t wait around to find out. I’ll do some more digging tonight when we get back to the penthouse. Maybe I’ll get the invitation list and cross reference with her files to find out who would be a person of interest to Agent Galina.

As I come out of the bathroom, I turn to meet Sergio, only to be stopped by a familiar voice from behind. “Sapphire?”

Holy fucking shit.