Page 19 of Mafia King: Matteo (Borrelli Mafia #1)

MATTEO

I know women. I can tell Alena is seething under her calm exterior. This is the calm before the storm. Like a dragon, Alena has fire in her belly and is ready to torch this place.

Her eyes are colder than the Bering Sea, and she’s giving me a guarded glare. I wouldn’t be surprised if I went home with a case of frostbite on my balls. Her eyes travel to my crotch as if to imply she’d snip them off if given the chance.

She’s biding her time. War has been declared, but she has to pick her place to retaliate. She can’t undermine her father as it would bring a physical punishment, which would be carried out in front of me. I’m not one to hit a woman, but the old guard is different.

Alena is proud. She will exact her revenge when we are alone. I’m looking forward to the encounter. I’m a sick man. I played her like a fiddle. Now she knows I have her against the ropes.

I hope this doesn’t affect our sex life. I’m not immune to the fact that some objects might be hurled at my head.

Dinner continues painfully slow. It’s a meal served with undercurrents and back-handed innuendos.

“I take it you’re from Sicily?” Alena asks.

“Yes, my father recently passed. I’m taking over the family empire. I’m more than happy to have you at my side as my fiancée.”

“How long have you been here?”

“I’ve traveled here over the years to learn English and the customs here.” I eye her as my brows furrow slightly. It’s as if I’m asking how many questions she intends to ask.

“How is work, Alena?” Dad asks.

He’s trying to validate her recent accomplishment by feigning interest.

She wouldn’t have a job if it weren’t for me. It looks like this might be a thorn in my side. It sounds as if she likes her job. I imagine a woman who was raised to be cared for would have been happy with the arranged marriage she knew would be happening.

She’s of marriageable age and was raised to be cared for in exchange for a life of leisure. So why would she choose to work?

The novelty of the job will wear off in a month. She’ll crumble like a shortbread cookie. I can never eat one without wearing it. They are best if they crumble in a cold glass of milk. That way, I drink them both together, and it’s not messy.

Alena is doing her best to ignore me. My balls tighten at the thought of her in my bed, riding my massive cock as I make her mine.

“I’m sure you know everything there is to know about me,” Alena states.

Fair enough.

I nod. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“I’ve been hooking up and having anonymous sex with a hot Italian. What are you going to do about him?”

Her mom gasps and drops her fork. Her father’s hand slams the table as he jumps to his feet.

I raised my hand to calm everyone.

“I’m sure he’d love to see more of you.” I chuckle. She’s boxed into a corner.

Alena is quiet, and her father takes his seat. Her mother begins to clear the table, and Alena follows her lead.

“Forgive her. I don’t know what has gotten into her tonight. I’m sure she’ll be faithful. I don’t know any Italian. I think she only intended to cause an issue with the arranged marriage,” her father suggests.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure the marriage happens,” I murmur. “Make no mistake about that. The wedding will be extravagant. All the important players will be invited. I trust Alena will open access to people I need to network with. How is she at social events?”

“She’s not one to carry on conversations with women who don’t have their own opinions and can be a bit of a wild card.”

“I like that about her,” I say as we stand and enter the living room. The women rejoin us, and I thank my hosts for the evening. Before I turn to go, I ask Alena to follow me to the foyer alone.

“What are you doing?” Alena whispers in an accusatory voice.

“Putting a ring on it. No woman of mine will be seen with another man’s hand on her. Ever. If anyone touches you, they will die, so warn Kirill,” I sneer.

“You’re mean. I won’t marry you,” she blurts out.

“You will if you value your father’s life. He took something of mine. Now I’ve taken something of his,” I reply jovially. “Besides, we have a marriage contract.”

“I’m not an inanimate object!”

“No,” I concede as I run my hand down her beautiful face. “You are not. But you are mine, and I suggest you don’t forget it.”

“This isn’t over,” she spits.

“Oh, but it is,” I say as I pull the box out of my pocket. Inside is an emerald-cut diamond, the largest canary diamond on the market. It has the most intense color of yellow ever seen by man.

I pluck the ring out of the box before I take her hand into mine. I slip the ring on her finger.

“We’re official,” I state as I watch her eyes grow wide.

“This is too much. It’s too big.”

“That’s not what you say when you marry the most eligible man in New York. I want every man to know you are mine.”

I raise her hand to my lips and kiss it before I let go.

“You really shouldn’t have...” Her voice is softer now and trails off as she looks at her ring finger. I think she likes it.

Her voice is softer than before. Does my Angel like jewels?

I can’t imagine she’s submitting, but she’s wearing my ring, and for now, it’s enough.

“I have to be going. Pack what you want from your condo. You’ll move in this week.

I’m looking forward to seeing you soon.” I drop a phone in her hand and enjoy the surprised look on her face.

“This is your phone from now on. Shortly, I’ll have my guard, Vito, with you at all times.

If you want to live to see the honeymoon, you have to be safer than you’ve been,” I reply frankly.

“When will I see you?” she asks, but I close the door without giving her an answer.

Outside, Gio steps out of the vehicle and opens my door. It’s started to snow, and I’m grateful for the heated seats when I slide in.

“How did it go?” he asks.

“It went. She has my ring on her finger. It’s not the romantic gesture it should be. I know it’s nothing like in the movies— but I don’t want her to get the wrong impression. This is a business deal, not a romance novel. She’ll learn her place.”

“I hope so for your sake. American women are different. They don’t like to follow the man. They like to be equals.”

“Home, Gio. I trust the staff has made the house ready for her.”

“Yes, there are flowers in vases for the first time, and your room has a less intimidating vibe with throw pillows on your bed and a huge fluffy comforter. Federico says girls like that shit. I must admit it makes your room look less... spartan.”

“Great. Whatever makes her happy. I’m sure she’ll need time to adjust. She said she wants to work. I don’t like the idea. It gives the wrong impression. She’s to be my queen. What do you think about that?”

“It’s admirable, considering she’s never done so before. But it’s a risk. When the news of your engagement gets out, your enemies will target her to get to you.”

“True, but that would happen no matter when I married. Have you gained any leads on Mr. Gambino?”

“No. He’s still dead, if that’s what you mean. Might I remind you that you have a mountain of his papers to go through?”

“I hate tedious tasks. That’s why I do what I do. Every day has a new challenge, and my adrenaline rushes. Ensure Antonio investigates any digital accounts Gambino may have had. His house still has a phone jack, but it’s worth a shot.”

I sit back in the leather seat and stare at the snow falling. The falling snow, illuminated by the streetlights, is mesmerizing.

“I managed to lift the SIM card from the advisor’s phone. It was old, but it might be worth a shot. You said he carried your father’s phone. We might get lucky.”

“I’m sure it’s backed up to an encrypted file, but see what Antonio can do.”

I reflect on the night’s events as Gio drives.

Alena is gorgeous. It might be beneficial for her to continue working. I’m sure she’ll tire of the commute from the Island and give up working soon.

Besides, I’m sure I’ll put a baby in her quickly. I don’t want her to have too much time on her hands—my phone dings.

Alena. Hmm. She misses me already.

Alena: This isn’t over.

* * *