Page 21 of Mafia King: Matteo (Borrelli Mafia #1)

I texted Izzy to confirm she was awake. She pings me back, so I pick up my phone and call her.

“How are you?” I ask. It’s easy for me to get caught up in my life and ask her about herself as an afterthought. Tonight, my news can wait. What do I say? Is my loyalty to my friend or my father?

I would probably tell her if the secret involved Izzy herself. But since this doesn’t affect her well-being, I decided to honor my father’s wishes until I know more. I can’t put my father’s head on the chopping block.

“Everything here is fine,” she says. “The baby is getting big. We’re trying to pick a name for her. Dmitry is out of town for a few days. We should meet up.”

“I’d love to. Maybe we can meet for lunch this week.”

“Great. How is your job? Did you ever think you’d be gainfully employed?”

“Funny thing about that job…”

“What, were you fired?”

“No, worse.”

“What could be worse than that?” Izzy’s voice conveys her curiosity.

“Remember how I thought the interview was too easy?”

“Yes, that was weird. You didn’t even do a drug test, and they hired you on the spot.” She pauses, then adds, “That never happens.”

“What if I told you my boss happens to be my new fiancé?”

“What? I don’t follow,” she says, confused.

“My mystery man is Matteo Borrelli, as in the don of the Borrelli Empire—from Sicily. He had to have known who I was and planned our hookups.” I snap my fingers. “Damn. It makes sense now.”

“What makes sense?”

“Remember my first day at work?”

“The elevator ride?”

“He just showed up, stopped the elevator, and we did it there.”

“That’s a bit kinky,” she says. “Were you afraid of getting caught?”

“That’s half the thrill, and he stopped the elevator. But I’ve discovered he owns the hotel.”

“That’s convenient,” she says. I hear her padding around in a luxurious penthouse where Dmitry bought a few buildings next to them to expand. Izzy quit her job a few months ago to oversee the renovations and prepare for the baby.

“Rough night?” I ask, considering it’s late, and I hear a few muffled groans as she moves. She has a way of flowing with how uncomfortable she is. She says every day is a new obstacle.

“The baby is moving. Things are stretching. It’s not as easy as it looks. But enough about me. How did the mystery man in the elevator happen? Were you being followed? Did Dima know?”

“No, I told him I was alone.”

“Good,” she replies. “I think.”

“You know, in summer, it would not have been so incredible. But the sex was intense.” I chuckle at the steamy memory of how he choked me.

“I’m so happy you hit it off so well.”

If she only knew.

“It would be easy for him to slip in and out of any floor in the hotel. He knows it inside out.”

“He’s acted like a stalker,” she muses. “Are you sure you’re safe with him?”

“He could have killed me or kidnapped me by now. Besides, if he bumps me off, make sure you get this incredible yellow diamond in the ring he put on my finger tonight.”

Izzy laughs, then winces.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“I’m huge,” she replies. “The doula says my ligaments are stretching for the baby. It hurts. No one ever tells you all the fun facts about pregnancy. I’ve read books until my brain is fried.

I’m glad we have her on call. Carrying and birthing a human is exhausting.

This baby appears to take what she needs from me. ”

“Isn’t that what they’re supposed to do?”

“Thank you, really. Dmitry has been great. He tells me that all the time, but soon I’ll be in slip-on shoes because I won’t be able to reach my feet.”

I chuckle. “I wish I could do something for you.”

“I’m fine.” She changes the subject back to me. “When is the big announcement? Do you have a wedding date?”

“I have no clue.”

“Well, fill me in when you know more. I guess congratulations are in order.”

“Thank you,” I reply as I toss my bed sheets and slide into bed.

“Does my dad know?” Izzy asks.

I assume these alliances would typically be discussed among the leaders, but I’m not the don’s daughter.

Maybe it’s not a big deal?

My marriage was brokered faster than the amount of time it takes to move a shipment of fentanyl. Last week, I was told to get a job. This week, I’m engaged.

“No, actually,” I reply, playing it off as if the arrangement was a spur-of-the-moment decision. “It appears Matteo wanted me, and when he found out who I was, I’m sure it made sense to make it official. I’m keeping it to myself for now. We barely know each other.”

“Okay, just let me know before the news breaks. I can’t keep it from Dmitry,” she announces.

“That’s fine,” I reply. I like Dmitry. He’d do anything to protect me.

Matteo knows how to make allies and enemies. With me, he obtains an opponent’s prized possession and a powerful alliance. My father made it easy for him to make a move on the Russians. This is not going to look good to Don Sidovo.

“Oh,” she says. “Well, is he who you want?”

“It’s how the games get played,” I reply. “We knew I would be married to someone.”

“That’s true. That’s so strange, though. You said you met at a sex club?”

“Yes.”

“He didn’t know you there?”

“We don’t use real names. I don’t see how he would have known.”

There is no level Matteo won’t sink to obtain me, buy me, or persuade me. Did he pick me out with a purpose? How far ahead does he plan his moves?

Am I marrying a psychopath?

“I’m sure I’m overthinking it,” Izzy says.

I sigh in relief. How long can I keep up the charade that we’ve become engaged over steamy hook-ups?

“It’s late. I’d better let you go,” I say.

We bid each other goodnight, and I place my phone on the charger on my nightstand. I stare out the window and watch the snowfall. It’s so pretty, and its serene presence calms me.

How do I wage a war with a man who will do anything to win?

Matteo wants me in a cage. He shows up when he wants and takes what he wants. So why bother to make it official? He had what he wanted from me. Why did he have to make me a part of the bargain?

He’s older. I assume he needs an heir.

I wonder how long it will be before we’re married. Once that occurs, I’ll be locked into a lifetime of demands dictated by my husband, and I’ll have to fulfill his every wish.

I hope some of his wishes are salaciously enjoyable.

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