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CHAPTER 7
G iulia
When I came into the house, ready to smack some sense into Olivia, I was acting out of pure anger. Loaded for bear is the expression my dad would use. He heard it in some old black and white movie when I was a kid and decided it was the perfect way to describe me when I lose my temper. I get mad and scream, shout, break things. Most parents would try to rein that in, but my dad always encouraged me to vent my anger. Luckily, it doesn’t happen very often. I tend to be calm, collected, but on the rare occasions when I do snap, the people around me better watch out.
After hearing how Livvy got Isabella into trouble, I wanted to punish her, but that wasn’t the sole reason my temper flared. I’m confused about what happened between me and Matteo and worried about where we’ll go next. Pushing his buttons was reckless, and I got more than I bargained for.
No, that’s a lie. I got exactly what I expected, and I liked it so much it scares me. I needed an outlet, but purging my raging emotions by laying into Livvy would have been unfair.
Fortunately, the moment I laid eyes on her, my anger fizzled out. Matteo’s sister was so obviously upset, I couldn’t lift a finger against her. On most days, Livvy dresses to impress, but today she’s in jeans and a t-shirt. She’s wearing sneakers. I wouldn’t have thought she’d own a pair. Her hair is tousled and mascara runs down her cheeks in dirty black streaks.
Even if she didn’t look so utterly pathetic, I doubt I’d have hit her. Though I’ve been trained in self-defense and I can handle a gun, violence isn’t in my nature. Sure, I’ll smash a vase or slam a door, but I don’t like the thought of putting my hands on someone in anger. In that, I take after my poor, late mother.
“So what’s the matter?” I ask as I sit next to her on the cream leather sofa in the living room I dragged her into.
“I had a visitor. He came to tell me he intends to marry me.”
“Who is he?”
“You won’t believe it.”
I almost roll my eyes. Clearly the grand reveal is going to shock me, otherwise Livvy would have just told me who her visitor was.
“Try me,” I say tightly.
“Piotr Reznov.”
My jaw drops. Now I’m doubly glad I didn’t lash out at her. What she needs right now is sympathy. Piotr Reznov, second in command of one of the most powerful Bratva organizations in the world, is terrifyingly unemotional.
I’ve only seen him a handful of times, but each left an indelible impression on me. I don’t think he ever smiles, or frowns, or blinks, for that matter. Perhaps that’s an exaggeration, but he is the most unreadable person I’ve ever encountered. When he casts his icy gaze over you, he could equally be thinking he’d like to fuck you or that he wants to gut you and set fire to your remains.
“No wonder you freaked out.” I get up and head over to the small cabinet in the corner by the window, which I hope holds some sort of alcohol. I open the door and hit the jackpot. There are several bottles in here, including a Scotch my dad drinks when he needs some stress relief. Grabbing it and a couple of glasses, I head back to Livvy. “Piotr Reznov isn’t my idea of the perfect husband either.”
“Oh, it’s not him.” Livvy wipes the last tears from her eyes as I pour a glass of the Glenlivet whisky and hand it to her. “I told him where to shove his shitty proposal and threw him out of the house.”
“You did?” I can’t keep the surprise out of my voice. I wouldn’t dare look the man in the eye, never mind order him to leave, but I guess growing up as a mafia princess has given Livvy more of a backbone than I realized.
“Yeah, I mean, he’ll be back, but I can handle him.”
“Right.” I pour myself a glass of whisky. “Why are you so upset, then?”
“After he left, I called Antonio to tell him what happened. It turns out he not only knew Piotr was coming to see me, he encouraged him to pursue me.”
To give myself time to absorb that information, I sip my drink. It’s like swallowing liquid fire, but I manage not to splutter.
“I guess that makes sense,” I say when I feel like I can speak without coughing. “Merging two powerful families is good business.”
“Piotr’s uncle is still Pakhan, and he’s marrying my mother, so the families are already merging.” Livvy sighs and then knocks back her whisky like a seasoned drinker. She holds her glass out for me to fill and I top it up. “You know, I wouldn’t care if Antonio was proposing the match for business purposes.”
“You wouldn’t?”
“No, I mean, I’d still reject the idea, but at least I’d feel like I had some worth if our family had something to gain from it.”
“You feel worthless?” I can’t believe that’s what Livvy’s saying. She’s always seemed supremely confident, obnoxiously so at times.
“My family wants me gone, Antonio especially. He laid it out clearly. I’m too much hassle. He’d give me to the devil if it meant he didn’t have to put up with me anymore.”
“Shit.” I don’t know what else to say to her.
“It’s okay.” Livvy smiles grimly. “You know, I’ve always envied you, Giulia.”
“Really?”
“Yes, I mean, you used to hang out with Matteo all the time. You were allowed to come on holiday with us. I couldn’t even speak to a boy without my brothers giving me shit.”
“They’re protective.” I don’t know why I feel the need to defend them when I think their behavior is over the top. “It shows they care.”
“Yeah, but you can care about someone without suffocating them.” Livvy drains her glass and snatches the bottle from the coffee table to refill it. She shakes her hand. “You wouldn’t understand. You’ve always been free to make your own choices.”
A loud snort escapes me at that. “Really? You think I chose to marry Johnny Lombardi?”
“Oh, shit.” Livvy puts her hand on my knee, realizing she fucked up, but I’m not done yet.
“You think I chose to become a widow at twenty-five, that I chose for my best friend to mock me when I was at my lowest ebb, that I chose to be sent here?”
“What do you mean, sent here?” Livvy asks. “I thought you came to be with Matteo.”
I shake my head. “No, your big brother told me to get my ass over here and persuade Matteo to come home or he’d set fire to the life I’ve built for myself.”
“Antonio sent you here?”
“Yes. He wants Matteo back in New York. He’s told me to make it happen.”
“Shit, I’m sorry, Giulia. My brother’s an asshole.”
I empty my glass of whisky in one gulp and then pour myself another before correcting her. “Your brothers are assholes.”
“Why, what did Matteo…?”
Her voice trails off as she stares at me, probably taking in my messy hair and crumpled clothing for the first time. Heat rises to my cheeks as she looks at me and if my disheveled state didn’t give the game away, my blushes certainly will.
“You two…?”
“Yes,” I reply quickly so she doesn’t have to find words for what she suspects her brother and I did.
“Wow!” Livvy’s brow furrows as she considers the situation. “Isn’t that a good thing? I mean, I always thought you and Matteo were right for each other.”
“Really? Is that why you hated me so much?”
Livvy shakes her head. “I’ve never hated you, Giulia. It was more of an intense dislike.”
She grins and I laugh, though I’m not entirely sure she was joking.
“Seriously, though,” she continues, “I already told you I was a little jealous. You and Matteo were so close.”
“You’re close with Matteo too.”
“Yeah, but he’d never go against Antonio for me. For you, he would.”
Is she right about that? Would Matteo go against Antonio for me? I doubt it. He didn’t intervene when his oldest brother agreed to me marrying Johnny. Of course, he might not have seen that as a life and death situation. If Antonio ordered him to kill me, would Matteo do it? His loyalty to his oldest brother is unassailable. Perhaps he’d have some qualms about ending my life, but I suspect he’d put his family first.
That depressing thought makes me slump against the back of the sofa. I empty my glass again and put it on the arm of the chair. Then I take the bottle Livvy’s holding onto. This time, I unscrew the cap and drink straight from the bottle. I shudder as the alcohol goes down.
“You know what we need to do?” Livvy’s tone is conspiratorial. “Get blind drunk.”
Get drunk? I’m halfway there. I don’t consume much alcohol, apart from the occasional glass of wine. My head feels fuzzy and my lips are tingly. Although I suspect I’m going to regret it, I take another large gulp of Scotch and pass the bottle to Livvy.
The door opens and Matteo comes into the room. “Time to go, sis.”
“I don’t want to go.” Livvy sounds a lot more sober than I feel.
“Tough shit. Damiano’s waiting.”
“Let her stay.” Oh, shit. My words are slurring.
Matteo strolls over to stand in front of me. He tilts his head to the side and grins. “Had a couple of drinks, sweetheart?”
He knows I’m a lightweight. After I’d had a couple of beers, he used to have to drag my ass home from parties so I could sleep it off.
“Just a couple.”
“Mmm-hmm.” He turns his attention to his sister and removes the almost empty bottle from her grasp. “How about you, Olivia? How much have you drunk?”
“Leave her alone.” I sit up and blink a couple of times as my head reels. “It’s legal here, and you’d drink too if Piotr Reznov wanted to marry you.”
Matteo laughs humorlessly and reaches down to grab his sister’s arm. He hauls her to her feet.
“Matteo!” she protests. “I don’t want to go.”
“Tough shit. Damiano’s waiting. You two can develop your newfound friendship some other time.”
He drags her out of the room, protesting vehemently, and returns a moment later for me. I try to stand, but immediately fall back onto the soft cushions on the sofa. Matteo stands in front of me, trying to look stern, but the gleam in his eye tells me he’s amused.
“Let’s get you upstairs.” He reaches down. The world tilts as he picks me up, gathering me close to his chest.
“What are you going to do?” I ask as he carries me through the bright, airy corridor toward the stairs. “You going to punish me? Fuck me?”
“Not when you’re in this state, sweetheart. I’m going to put you to bed.”
“Alone?” I reach up and run my fingers through his hair. It’s silky. I like it.
“Yes, alone. When I fuck you, I want you fully aware of what I’m doing to you.”
“Hmm, sounds lovely.”
Matteo laughs. “Oh, yeah, it’ll be lovely, sweetheart.”
My eyes droop as we reach the top of the stairs and head along the corridor toward the bedrooms. We bypass the room I stayed in last night and go to the door at the farthest end of the passageway.
Matteo effortlessly holds me while he turns the handle of the door. He carries me into what must be his bedroom. It’s large and opulently decorated in earth tones. An enormous wooden bed dominates the space, but what tells me that this is Matteo’s room is the mess. There are clothes strewn across the floor. I guess he doesn’t let Rosalia in here to tidy up too often.
He sets me on my feet beside the bed and unbuttons my blouse. Giving him a lopsided grin, I sway toward him.
“You like what you see?” I ask as he pulls my arms out of the sleeves and tosses the blouse on the floor.
“Very much.”
He reaches behind me and unfastens the clasp of my bra. I should tell him to leave it on, but alcohol is winning the war against common sense right now. Pressing my naked breasts against him, I wrap an arm around his neck. I raise myself up onto my tiptoes and try to kiss him. He dodges me.
“Giulia!”
I smirk at him. “Matteo?”
“Stop it.” He pushes me down onto the bed. With impressive efficiency, he gets my pants off me. The next thing I know, I’m under the covers, tucked up so tight I can hardly move. He goes to the window and draws the curtains, plunging the room into darkness.
“Get some sleep,” he commands as he heads to the door.
“Matty,” I call out just before he leaves. He turns and waits for me to speak. “When I said I hated you, I didn’t mean it.”
“I know.”
“I love you.” So I can see him better, I prop myself up on my elbows. “I always have.”
“I know, sweetheart. I love you too.”
He leaves the room, closing the door behind him, and I flop back onto the pillows. My eyelids close as I succumb to my drunken stupor. I need to get some sleep. I’ll worry about where things are going with Matteo tomorrow.