Page 29 of Mafia King: Matteo (Borrelli Mafia #1)

ALENA

“Thank you, Vito.” I look up to the handsome face of the man tasked with taking a bullet for me.

He’s ordered to protect me with his life.

I hope it doesn’t come to that, but now that I’m involved in the family business, I’m relieved he’s here.

“Have a good night,” I say as I close my door, slide the deadbolt into place, and connect the chain for added security.

Who am I kidding? This door isn’t even solid wood. How safe am I? Besides, every mafia movie ends with someone being whacked. The mafia is like the KGB. You can’t escape them if they want you dead.

I slide out of my coat, toss it over a chair in the dining room, and prop my purse on the kitchen counter.

Italians like coffee. I look at the coffee machine on the counter and pop an espresso pod into its empty mouth.

I slide a to-go cup on the tray and push start.

I unlock the door and look down the hall.

“Vito,” I call out softly.

He walks toward me, having rounded the corner in the hallway.

“I made coffee and added sugar to it for you.”

“You don’t have to do that, Ms. Pasnov.”

“We’re going to be together for a long time. Please call me Alena.”

“Only when Mr. Borrelli isn’t around,” he says, taking the warm cup.

“It will be our secret. Knock if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Alena. You’re very kind,” he replies appreciatively.

“It’s no problem—have a good night.”

“You, too,” he says, and I close and lock the door again.

It’s a small token of my appreciation. The condo is quiet, and I’m surprised no one has complained about the foreigner walking the halls. I guess there are lurkers everywhere—it’s New York City. Or have people learned to keep their noses out of other people’s business?

As if that will ever happen. I chuckle at my joke.

I walk to the window and glance below. I love the light flurries falling under the streetlights of Central Park.

Izzy is right. The location is good for traffic and lessens the chance that someone would attempt to abduct me at my condo.

I can’t fight Matteo on moving in with him.

I will feel safer in his house and with him by my side.

I’m stunned by how much Matteo keeps hidden behind his sultry eyes.

I wonder if he’ll have to tell me lies. Who am I kidding?

Of course, he will. He’s a savvy businessman.

I have no doubt he can be cunning. As much as I hate that he played the game perfectly with my father to get his building and me, I assume his acuity in certain situations will keep him safe.

He exploited my father’s weakness for his gain.

He’s a worthy adversary to anyone who dares to challenge him.

My father has no idea what he’s gotten the bratva into.

I’m holding more and more secrets daily. At this rate, I’ll be lying to Izzy about my entire life. I wonder how much she knows about the bratva that she can’t share with me. Does Matteo feel like he is living a double life? I’m beginning to feel like my life is getting away from me.

I undress, and damn Matteo for making me so horny. I pull on pajamas and rummage through my drawers for items I want to take with me as if I’m going on an extended weekend stay at the Hamptons.

Only it’s winter.

I pack essentials into the overnight roller luggage, ensuring I have loungewear since it’s Friday tomorrow. I’ll sort out work clothes later.

I reserve the room to toss my toiletry items into the bag in the morning. What is waiting for me at his mansion? He said I didn’t need to bring much. He has staff who could pack my closet for me if I were to ask.

After I’ve removed the smeared lipstick, I wash the makeup off my face and stare at myself in the mirror over the vanity.

“Who are you?”

I wonder if I’ll become lost in Matteo’s world and be like that lonely woman at the piano bar in my forties, one day, wishing I had a man who loved me.

Perhaps Matteo is preoccupied with the startling events he shared with me tonight. I know I would have a tough time sleeping at night, knowing someone murdered my father and that I might be next.

Maybe I should be relieved that I’m a woman and that I am not expected to take over for my father one day. It sounds like Matteo always knew it was his destiny.

What is mine?

The mafia doesn’t always protect a traitor’s family. I doubt Matteo’s father betrayed his family. I mean, the man had five kids. I want to think he wouldn’t put them in jeopardy. But what do I know?

I remember reading about the mafioso killers I’ve seen online, and the one called The Icepick had a family. He was the mafia enforcer who used torture to gain answers. The only code he lived by was that he didn’t kill children.

As if that makes him a model citizen. I huff. I’m in a pickle—the kind wedged in a jar packed with others. We’re all green, sandwiched tightly, and we can’t run. I’m stuck.

My life went from opportunity flowering before me with a new job to one of obscurity and a life where I will live in the fray. I console myself with the fact that Izzy is in a similar situation—only her husband loves her, and they’re having a baby together.

I hope my stomach won’t always be in knots. With any luck, Matteo will find out who is behind his father’s death soon, and our lives will return to normal. Only I don’t know what normal is.

He made it clear our marriage is a business arrangement. I’d be delusional if I thought for one second he would ever fall in love with me.

I lift my phone from my purse in the kitchen and crawl into bed with it. I phoned Izzy.

“What’s up? Is everything okay?” she asks first.

“Oh, yeah. I hope it isn’t too late to call.”

“Not at all. How are you? How is the working girl?”

“Fine. I mean, I’m new, so what can I complain about? I can’t stay up all night at clubs?” I chuckle at the irony of my life.

“Clubbing grows old after a while. I could tell you were looking for something more. You hid it well, but I could tell you wanted more out of life.”

“You did?” I’m surprised she never mentioned this before.

“Sure. You’re young, and you earned a degree. That’s an accomplishment. Why wouldn’t you want to use it? You’re smart, pretty, and talented. It would be a shame to sit on it.”

“I didn’t think that much about it, then.”

“And now?”

“My life has changed. I’m learning the job, and I ate dinner with Matteo at The Godfather’s Kitchen tonight. Did you ever eat there?”

“I could never have afforded that, but it sounds interesting.”

“It was,” I reply, filling her in on the mansion’s ambiance and describing the most incredible pasta I’ve ever eaten. “I hear you have a table at Councilman Addler’s gala that’s coming up.” I decide to get to work and create an opening to do Matteo’s bidding.

“We do. It’s one of those things we have to attend. We must mingle at these affairs. How did you know? It slipped my mind. I hope Dmitry figured out what we’re wearing. We need costumes.”

“Do you have room left at your table? Matteo and I wanted to go. It would be fun to be out with you again. And you have to meet him.”

“I definitely need to meet this man who has met your insatiable sexual appetite,” she jokes.

“It was only a matter of time,” I reply, playing it off. Gee. I’m pretty good at rolling with life as it comes. Is that how it happens? Will my lies continue to flow to the point I won’t know what reality is?

“We haven’t filled our table yet. Access to Addler comes at a significant cost. I can tell you that. This could very well have been called a Presidential fundraiser.”

“Who knows where he’ll be in a few years? Be careful what you wish for,” I tease. I store this information in the back of my mind. Is Addler going to be running for president?

This would make sense to me because he’s from a family of politicians. If he’s so picky with whom he takes money from, perhaps he’s intent on looking like an angel when he has the scrutiny of every critic in the country running a microscope up his ass before he hits the presidential campaign trail.

What do Dmitry and Matteo want from the councilman?

“I don’t think he’s all that bad. He wants to keep the city unique,” Izzy says.

“Opposed to change, you mean?”

“Just a bit,” she chuckles.

“Have you mentioned my engagement to your dad?” I ask to know where I stand.

“No, you told me not to. I have to tell Dmitry before he hears it from someone else. I was waiting for Matteo to talk to my father—” She leaves the sentence hanging for me to fill in the gap.

“Please tell Dmitry because I don’t want it to become an issue between you.

I’ll have Matteo meet with your father. I’ve been deluding myself with the notion that this is a normal engagement.

However, I’m marrying the don to the Italian mafia, and it would be weird for us to share a table, wouldn’t it? ”

“My thoughts exactly. You know how the men get prickly over these types of things.”

“I know. It would make it look like we’re working together when we happen to marry men from the opposite...”

“Sides of Europe only, we’re all in New York City,” she finishes my sentence so eloquently.

We share a laugh filled with relief. I never considered that my marriage could change the dynamics of my relationship with my best friend. Navigating this will be a challenge if the bratva doesn’t stand behind me.

“Is everything going to be alright?” I ask in a hushed tone. The gravity of the situation has hit.

“I hope so. Nothing can keep us apart if it’s up to you and me.” She speaks softly. She understands the implications of the situation as much as I do.

I don’t know what’s going to happen, Izzy. I thought I’d marry a capo.

“I know. Trust me, this has thrown me for a loop. However, I’ll talk to Dmitry tonight. He’s home, and I’ll let Matteo call Dad.”

“Thank you so much. You’re the best, Izzy. Ironically, your mother ran from this life, and we’re both into it up to our necks.”

“I know. I hope she’s not disappointed in me. However, I have nothing to do with my grandfather, Santino Morreti. He’s never tried to reach me, and I’m relieved. I want nothing to do with him. He kept my mother from the man she loved, and she died over it. He’s a mean man, Alena.”

“I know. I’m glad he’s left you alone. Do you ever think someone is following you?”

“No, I have good intuition about that. But who knows? I hope nothing is going on behind my back. I try to think ahead. When life in the moment scares me, I try to think of something that makes me happy.”

“That’s good advice. I’ll remember it.”

“It’s late, but I’ll talk to you during your lunch break tomorrow.”

“Great. I’ll talk to you then. Love you.”

“Love you.”

* * *