Page 23 of Mafia King: Matteo (Borrelli Mafia #1)

ALENA

I didn’t get much sleep. The weight of my father’s lack of good judgment disturbs me. Why would he go behind the don’s back and take a deal for himself? I’ve never seen him angry at Alexsei. Is my father planning a campaign to unseat him? If he is, that means Izzy and Dmitry are in danger.

I’m curling my hair for work when my phone dings with a message.

I pick up my phone but don’t recognize the number. Glancing at the message, I realize it’s from my fiancé. The word fiancé is strange even though I knew I’d be married sooner rather than later.

How much time do I have before we are to be married? I’m just finding myself and don’t want to leave the city. The presence of Matteo added excitement to my single life. I can’t deny that I fantasized about him. What did I expect from him? Love?

Is he capable of love? I read the message.

I’ll pick you up after work for dinner.

I save his number, push the letters on my keypad, and type Mr. Grey.

Fine.

Vito is your new guard. He’s waiting downstairs. Do not fight me on this. You’ve been irresponsible with your safety.

Fine.

He was mysterious. Now, I find him to be bossy—and bordering on cryptic.

Yes, I should have been more careful running around town like I’m normal.

Dad should have made me have a guard. It’s funny because the last time I thought men might be after me, they were hunting Izzy.

But in my defense, I had no way to know that my father had put me in danger.

He pissed Matteo off, and now I’m paying the price.

Dima knows where Matteo lives and has emailed me the floor plans of his house. He picked them up from City Hall. It’s a palatial estate. If I didn’t know Matteo had the most enormous cock I’ve ever encountered, I would have assumed his home was to compensate for a small dick.

Lucky for me, that’s not the case.

The ring on my finger reminds me that last night wasn’t my imagination. My pussy glistens with the merest thought of him. He can drop in on me whenever he wants because I work for him.

I want to punish him and shock him like he did me. As the new don, I assume he will be highly cautious with every decision he makes. Each step has to be thought out, and he must have a plan to keep the organization profitable. He has to keep his men happy and confident in his leadership.

Chaos and distrust in the syndicate can lead to mutiny. I’m wise enough in the ways of the bratva to know that if there is dissension in the ranks, the don’s life is at risk.

I wrestled with my father’s secret, swearing to keep it under duress.

What if my father is planning to take over the bratva?

What if this was his first attempt to convince potential members that he could bring in deals?

Dmitry is next in line to become Don. Is my father working behind the scenes with his agenda?

I can’t risk anything happening to Dmitry or Izzy. They are my family. My heart is heavy with concern. Izzy never trusted my dad. Did I miss something?

Once again, I find my future in a holding pattern. I know whom I’m marrying, but I don’t know what my future holds. What does he want from me? Why did he have to have me?

I will be married to the Italian don, and if the bratva falls, Matteo could easily step in and take over. There would be a war, and I would be in the middle of it. I pray it will not come to that.

Matteo is as skillful at politics as he easily made me feel like his chew toy. It took him less than two weeks to recover his building and wrap me into the deal. Before meeting him, I would have gone with my parents’ choice of a husband. Knowing what I do now, I don’t trust my father’s motives.

Dima texted me more information. I read what he sent, and I find it odd that there is no cause of death listed in Luciano Borrelli’s obituary. I wonder how he died.

There were no wars at the time, and no shootings were reported in Sicily. It’s not like he was too young to die. He was sixty, the age at which dons usually retire, one way or the other.

My next thought leads me to question Luciano’s death. What if he was murdered?

And if he was murdered, who did it? Death is a retirement that doesn’t include a pension.

There is no trace of him on social media, and Dima didn’t find any records that might be useful to me, like marriage certificates, children, or family deaths in Sicily.

I doubt I’ll ever see an authentic record of Matteo other than his passport.

I know how foreign countries work. To obtain any records, a substantial amount of paperwork and bribes are paid over the counter in fees, while the untraceable ones are paid under the table.

It’s clear that Matteo has my safety in mind, and instead of being annoyed, maybe I shouldn’t resist my guards in light of the current situation.

I finish my hair and pull a ribbed cotton Ralph Lauren dress over my head. I tug on black boots that zip on the inside of my leg. The boots are shiny, a retro look from the 70s.

I’m marrying a man more powerful than my father. I smile because my father can’t mistreat me anymore. Matteo will not tolerate him abusing me now that I’m under his protection. I saunter out the door and walk to the elevator, knowing there are perks associated with Matteo’s status.

I arrive in the parking garage, and it looks as if this is the limo that we fucked in last week. Did Matteo send this vehicle to remind me of our midday tryst?

My dark red lips curl into a smile as the man, who introduces himself as Vito, opens the door for me.

“Good morning, Ms. Pasnov,” he says without meeting my eyes.

“Hello, Vito.”

He’s dressed in a black suit. At six feet tall, he’s shorter than Matteo, but he has dark hair and eyes that don’t even give me a once-over glance. That’s strange.

“I won’t bite,” I joke.

“I know. My job is to keep you safe, and the boss wouldn’t like it if I were too friendly.”

“Oh,” I reply thoughtfully. I remember the night at the club, and Matteo didn’t like Kirill being too close to me. I never considered Matteo’s threats applied to men in his employ. Doesn’t he trust them? It’s clear that Vito understands what’s expected of him.

Now, I worry about Matteo going off on someone over his possessiveness over me. And by “off,” I’m assuming he would kill. I know first-hand how strong his hands are and the depth of darkness in his eyes, which is a darkness I hope I will never witness in action.

Vito drives me to work and is steady as people walk between cars sitting in traffic. I don’t know how he can be so calm. I sink into the plush seat and watch the city come alive. Rush hour is always a bitch.

Vito parks the car in the hotel garage, and I wait for my door to open. I’m afraid it would offend him if I were to get out on my own.

He steps aside to let me walk by the door. He informs me to wait inside the door for him. I oblige. I don’t want to be labeled as difficult, so I do as I’m told.

Vito joins me after he parks the limo and escorts me to the elevator. My entire morning has been filled with reminders of Matteo’s presence. It’s as if he’s here even when he’s not.

In the elevator, I run a finger over the gorgeous diamond.

I forgot to take off my engagement ring before I left my condo.

I carefully slip the ring off and place it into my zippered wallet.

No one knows of its existence, and I’m not ready to be fawned over and asked a million questions that I don’t have answers to.

This way, I’ll avoid the awkward situation altogether.

My guard walks me to the door and opens it.

“I’ll never be far away,” he says. He pushes a fob into my hand. “Press this if you ever need me.”

“Is this necessary?”

“I don’t take chances. If something happens to you, worse things will happen to me.”

I meet his eyes. He means business. I take the fob. “Okay.”

When I walk into the office, I am filled with a mix of emotions. Thankfully, I have this job to keep my mind occupied for the next eight hours. I search the office for Penny and find her in the break room with a cup of tea.

“Good morning,” she says with her chipper British accent. I’m decidedly a fan of accents. I’ll have to learn some Italian words as Matteo whispers Italian words in my ear during sex, and I have no idea what he was saying, but I’d love to find out.

“Hi,” I reply. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

“We have a meeting with the vendor for the floating sinks in an hour. You should check your emails and get estimates on the pillows.”

“Which one?”

“All of them.”

“I remember we looked at thirty of them.”

She walks toward me to leave the room, “That sounds about right. You’re the newly hired. It’s where we all started. This is your first job, and I’m sure you’ll do well, but it takes time to become established.”

“Right.”

I walk behind her and veer off to a workstation where I log into my work email. I have to look at my phone for my password. I find it’s always a pain in the ass. Whatever happened to having a desk of my own?

I read through my emails, and one is from the president welcoming me to the team.

Matteo. If I see or hear from him before dinner, I’m going to scream. I ignore the automatic greeting, respond to team members, and print out the list of pillows and sizes. They are from different vendors. It will take hours to work down the list.

The day went by, and as I’m still the newbie at work and haven’t had any tasks to fuck up, and everyone is friendly.

I feel like a glorified secretary, but I’m determined to stick it out and make a place for myself.

I have an eye for color and texture. I want to demonstrate that I can be a valuable team player.

I eat from the vending machine for lunch and pretend I’m busy on my phone for thirty minutes.

“How is work?” Matteo texts.

Fine.

I hope you can have more than one-word answers; otherwise, this will be a boring marriage.

I doubt that very much.

I don’t see you as one to settle for boring.

He may not have spent much time with me, but he’s right. Unfortunately, he’s the one who added adventure to my routine life. If it weren’t for him, I’d be home alone for the foreseeable future.

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