Page 30 of Mafia King: Matteo (Borrelli Mafia #1)

MATTEO

Gio and I talk on the ride to my estate. I’m not thrilled about Finn’s passing, even though he got what he deserved. Gio and Antonio know how much I hate for my men to ask me for favors.

“I’m not fucking Santa delivering gifts,” I complain to Gio.

“I know. It’s one and done. Let’s hope it all goes according to plan.”

“Men like Finn, well, there’s no cure for that. Addiction is addiction, and it eats people from the inside out and the outside in. This is why I avoid taking drugs for anything, and I’ve never sampled the goods.”

“You just sell them,” he murmurs with sarcasm.

“True. We all do. They will circulate whether I have a hand in it or not. It’s the status quo, and our government has its hand in the profits as well.

It trickles down to every political campaign and drug rehabilitation program.

I can’t swim against these currents. I’d be out on a ledge, and my empire would crumble into ashes. ”

“That’s so true,” Gio says as we pass my guard gate.

My phone beeps.

Alena.

“It appears Alena is getting us tickets to the event, but Don Sidovo is expecting a call from me.”

“Shit, we should have done it like yesterday,” Gio mutters and runs his hand through his hair.

“You’re sweating this as if you’re the groom,” I joke.

“Yeah, well, he could come out the door and shoot your balls off. If that happens, you’re on your own,” he states flippantly.

I let out a snicker. For being a man who doesn’t show emotion, I’m in a good mood for the first time in years. I’ve managed to laugh and enjoy myself tonight.

“Alena is on top of the situation,” he states.

I texted Alena that I would take care of it tomorrow. I also typed Good night, Angel.

“She told me she and Izzy are like sisters, and I hope our marriage will be accepted. I don’t think there is an etiquette book for the type of situation I was in. Do I go to the father of the bride or the bratva’s don? Tough call,” I say, bemused by the situation.

However, it appears the don’s first love was lost over politics, so I’m feeling confident he’ll make the best of mine. I can hope. I’ve dealt with cartel leaders and gangs over the years. How tough will it be to meet the don?

Meanwhile, hours later, when I’m in bed and can’t sleep, I admit I’m nervous.

I’ve been ballsy, even reckless. I’ve put Alena and Izzy in a vice grip that could have serious repercussions.

What would that be? I can’t say. If Alena loses Izzy, she’ll never forgive me.

She’s lost her parents this week, and I don’t know when or if she will get over her father’s business deal that goes against his oath.

She’s been forced to keep secrets that no one in her position should be asked to carry, and it’s why we protect our women from what we do.

Our souls turn black, and we hope the women will love us and keep the family together.

I won’t do anything to put friction between her and Izzy again.

One can only be loyal to a person who is trustworthy.

Once trust is lost, the situation is irrevocably broken.

I’ve lived this with my father, and I have no wish to carry the family legacy of lies and betrayal.

I can’t come between my bride and her best friend. The only silver lining is that if we were in an alliance, Alena would be even more protected if something were to befall me. She was right. Having Russian support will make me formidable if I enter a war.

In the morning, I received a text that the announcement and the picture Gio took of us at dinner would be in the paper.

It’s not the standard boring pose a photographer takes, but it will suffice.

I need to avoid the gossip, which travels faster than wildfire.

We’re moving so fast that people will wonder if Alena is pregnant.

There’s a thought. I wonder how she feels about that, but it’s happening either way.

After my workout, Federico prepares breakfast, and since Gio isn’t here yet, I eat in the kitchen so we can catch up.

“What would you like for dinner tonight, Matteo? I don’t know what Alena would like.”

“Thank you. However, I have no idea what to introduce her to next. For a woman of means raised in the city, I thought she would have every nook for great food on her GPS.”

Federico chuckles. “You’re different.”

“No, I’m the same cranky don you’ve always known.”

“Alena is a pretty woman. Gio showed me her picture.”

“Did he?” Hm. I guess the three of us have lived lives void of women we’d feel worthy of, considering what we do. It doesn’t escape my attention that my men have been discussing my future wife, and they both seem to agree on her being too good for me. This is a first.

Gio arrives as Federico and I finish our chat. I stand and pull on my suit jacket. He takes the trench coat Federico hands him, and we leave through the kitchen door and pass two guards who are walking the grounds.

They nod in acknowledgment, and I let myself into the limo. We arrive at Don Sidovo Long Island estate thirty minutes later. We stop at his security gate, and we’re buzzed in, so we drive onto the grounds.

The house is modern, off-white stucco with dark brown brickwork. The arch over the large front door is a northern touch, and the drive has been shoveled.

“I wish I had a drink,” I murmur. The house is meant to exude wealth and power, and it does.

The fact that the Russians are notorious for being ruthless is not lost on me.

I know that on more than one occasion, a few were psychotic over the years, putting the fear of death in local citizens if they so much as walked past a house they owned.

“If I pull this off, I’m a genius. The Volkovs are international, and Dmitry’s marriage to Izzy will make him the next don. I wonder when that will occur.”

“There’s no rumor of a date. I suspect after his daughter is born.”

“Ah, yes, that would be a great gift for a grandchild to a man who’s had many disappointments in life.”

“You pull this off, and you are merging us with the largest Russian family in the world. Think of the new connections you’ll have, not to mention the men behind Dmitry will support you too, should you need it.”

“That’s a valid point. However, I need to walk through that door.” I slip the gun out of the holster on my belt and hand it to Gio, who puts it in the glove box. He slides his weapon in as well.

Gio opens my door, and I straighten my collar as if meeting my father-in-law. The difference between Alexsei and Alena’s father is that I respect this man.

The door opens before Gio knocks, and the servant leads us into a room with scones and a light lunch displayed in a palatial solarium overlooking an indoor pool at the back of the mansion. A man in a black suit who looks like a pro boxer with a stern face grunts when he frisks us for weapons.

“Gentlemen,” a voice greets us. “Please, come. Sit. Lunch is served.”

I turn, and there before me is the man I identify as Alexsei.

“Thank you for your generosity. I’m Matteo, and this is Gio.”

He shakes my hand, and our eyes meet. I like a man who doesn’t have what I have coined “crazy eyes.” Alexsei appears to be of sound mind and shakes Gio’s hand after he releases mine. I wait for him to lead us to the table.

“These pies are called Coulibiac. They are puff pastry shells filled with salmon filling. They’re delicious.” He enters the solarium and sits.

We sit as well.

A butler places water before us, and I notice iced tea on the table.

“What is on your mind, Matteo? My daughter said it was important that I meet with you today.”

“Thank you so much for arranging time to meet. I’m sorry for the short notice.”

“It happens. I was young once. I try not to do so much in a day now. What can I do for you?”

My heart races like the engine in a getaway car.

“I had no idea whom to speak to first. I am taking over for my father, Luciano Borrelli, and I’ve fallen in love with an incredible woman under your protection. I went to her father, and it occurred to me that I might have offended you as we are both men in positions of power.”

He sits back in his chair, a sober, reflective thought on his face. For a man in his late forties or early fifties, he’s aged well, considering the stress of the job that I know all too well.

“Continue,” he says as he places a pie and fruit on his plate.

I follow his lead, as does Gio. I figure it’s only polite.

“I didn’t want you or anyone else to assume that we have an alliance when I marry Alena, especially when we’ve never met.

I don’t want our marriage to imply things that might misrepresent the situation.

I know how these things will be construed in our world, and I do not wish to offend you.

As I said, I have no idea how to proceed with my marriage and the fact that Alena and Izzy are best friends, family, even.

I can’t come between my wife and your daughter. ”

I’ve made my plea. It’s always better to beg for forgiveness than ask for permission in our world. However, it does not guarantee a favorable outcome.

“You know, Mikhail has been off lately. I couldn’t put my finger on it. Now, I know it is over this situation with his daughter. He’s alluded to the fact that his daughter has fallen for someone we might be leery of, but he had no choice with her affair of the heart.”

Mikhail Pasnov might be Alena’s father, but he’s a worm.

I never intended for him to come clean, but to cast a shadow on me is a slight I won’t forget.

He’s become consumed with power, and now I understand why Alena wanted me to keep tabs on him.

I have a feeling he might not be long in this world with how he’s escalated things between us and is now disavowing me for marrying his daughter.

The don is quiet—my fate is in his hands.

“Manuel, please bring Vodka,” he says before he takes a bite of his meat pie.

The butler carries a tray of shot glasses and a bottle of chilled vodka.

The don swallows and speaks. “I was once young and in love. The love of my life, one might say. But she was mine, and she was gorgeous. I only married for duty, which was a bed of thorns that did not end well. She resented my first love. I have looked into you, and you are a man of honor. We have commonalities for the women we love. Alena took care of my daughter while she was homeless and attending school. She did so out of kindness to my daughter, never knowing who she was and wanting nothing in return. Alena is family to me. I owe her a debt that I couldn’t repay before, but it is still owed.

I love my daughter more than life itself, so I offer you a trial alliance for this love.

I cannot come between Alena and Izzy. It would break Izzy’s heart if there were a falling out when both women are so happy. ”

The don pours three vodkas and hands two of them to us.

“Here’s to love. May we have a blessed union.”

I am overwhelmed by the amount of love this man has for his daughter.

I choke back the sentiment over a love lost and love gained.

I was not aware of Izzy’s unfortunate beginnings, and I understand why they have been kept private.

He cherishes his daughter’s happiness above all else, including fear and hate.

We toss back our vodka, and Alexsei delivers a hearty slap on my back. “Besides, I hate the Morettis. I’d do anything to see that man in the ground,” he mutters. “This will be one stake in his heart.” He nods, and it feels like the click of a loaded gun.

Does he want me to whack Don Moretti?

We enjoyed our lunch and left the next joint business venture up for discussion. We stand. The Don shakes my hand, welcoming me into the fold, and even shakes Gio’s hand. He walks us to the door, and once I step into the chilly air, I breathe a sigh of relief.

“I feel better now,” I chuckle as we walk confidently to my limo.

“You got lucky. Alena seems to be the center of what is becoming a contentious relationship between you and her father,” Gio says as he slides behind the wheel.

“That little fucking weasel. Alena asked me to keep tabs on him, so she doesn’t trust him either. Alena won’t sacrifice Izzy when her father is in the wrong. She’s a sweet woman and loved by the Don. I think Alexsei loves Alena more than her father.”

I wonder if Alena knows how Alexsei feels about her.

“Well, she saved your ass today,” Gio says with aplomb.

“That she did.” My marriage to Alena must be protected at all costs. “I assume I should do something nice for her. Let’s drive by Tiffany’s. Women like jewelry, don’t they?”

“Does a man like a warm pussy?”

“Hey, that’s my wife,” I snap.

“I didn’t mean her, Matteo. I meant in general.”

“Noted,” I reply.

This woman is getting the best of me. Everywhere I turn, her presence is felt.

When I met her, she wasn’t pretentious, and she didn’t impress me as the type to play games with people’s heads.

She was transparent and straightforward, which was a new experience for me.

She’s down to earth amid the finery she wears.

One would never know that she’s generous to a fault and caring. I never considered her as important as her mafia princess friend, Izzy. I guess I still have a lot to learn.

* * *