Page 33 of Mafia King: Matteo (Borrelli Mafia #1)

ALENA

“A baby?” I stutter. My palms are clenched at my sides, becoming moist with sweat. The surprises continue to overwhelm me. I want children. I never dreamed it would be so soon.

“I’m afraid becoming the don has requirements, and it’s expected.”

I turn to him. His face is void of emotion.

Where do I fit into Matteo’s life, and will we ever be safe?

“What else is in this arrangement?” My face is placid, waiting to see if this is another decision that will be taken from me.

“We’ve agreed neither of us will take other lovers. I’m a man, and I have needs.” He turns to me.

My cheeks grow warm under his intense gaze. I know his needs too well. I have my own. Turning him down last night was difficult, but I needed space to adjust to the changes that were pelting me with rapid fire.

“I need to put a baby in your belly. We’ll start after the wedding.

Izzy is having a baby. Wouldn’t you like to have your children together?

I never expected to have an alliance with the Russians.

It helps us both. You and Izzy can remain close.

I’ll do some deals with Alexsei, and together, we’ll be unstoppable.

” His voice is filled with purpose and promise.

A Baby is a huge decision. I wonder if our children will resemble me or a combination of both my husband and me.

His dark hair and my blue eyes would be unique, but no matter what color of eyes or hair my child has, I would love them to the best of my abilities.

He wants to start immediately, and he’s older than I.

Most men in the family have children before they are thirty.

He takes my hands into his. “I’ve never wanted children before,” his voice hovers softly in the air between us.

He’s asking me for a baby. Surely, this means I’m special.

Walking through the bedroom door had me longing for his touch. My ovaries are salivating as my mind remembers our insatiable lust for each other. I want him to throw me on the bed and fuck me. My chest heaves at his request. The thought of him coming in me has my pussy quivering in anticipation.

“Tell me you want my child, Alena.” His words melt my heart. He’s a man who doesn’t ask. He takes. This is his way of asking me to give him what he desires.

“What about our safety? The baby’s?”

“With an ally now, we’re safer than ever. The gala event will make a statement.” The lines at the corners of his eyes lighten as he implores me for the answer he desperately wants to hear.

I’m sure it’s a relief to know he has reinforcements should a war start. With my father’s shenanigans, it might happen sooner rather than later.

His hands are soft. I don’t pull away. When I look into his eyes, desire burns inside of me.

I need to feel the itch between my legs.

My loins warm at his request. It’s as if I need the human connection now more than ever.

He is my family. He didn’t have to ask me—he chose to.

Over the past week, decisions have been made that left me feeling helpless.

I’m touched that he’s considerate enough to discuss the life-changing decision before us.

“I will give you a baby, Matteo,” I whisper as I move my hand to caress his face. He leans into it before pulling my hand to his lips. He places a tender kiss on my hand. I’m stunned by the intimacy he’s demonstrated.

“Thank you,” he murmurs. My knees are weak. It’s not like a don to show emotion, and yet he has. Perhaps he’s capable of love.

He releases my hands and moves my luggage to the closet. I follow him. The tender moment has passed.

“The house is yours to decorate. Do as you see fit. Only...”

“Your study is off-limits, I get it.” I give him a weak smile.

He sets my luggage inside a closet that takes my breath away.

I will only bring a few of my favorite items from my condo because this closet is impeccably designed and full of red-bottom shoes, formal gowns, and business suits.

Everything has its place. Recessed lighting illuminates the clothing, and at the top is a shelf with designer handbags.

“How did you manage this?” I ask. I’m sure he’s taken care of everything here and that it will fit perfectly.

“I know people. You are an extension of me.”

Meaning—he expects me to represent his name when I leave the house. It’s back to business as usual. The tender moment has passed, and the letdown at his change in demeanor leaves me with a hangover. I’m alone again.

He takes a look around at his handiwork. His shirt is fresh, and his silver cufflinks shine under the lights. His slacks fit him to a T. I eye his firm buttocks. He’s a fine specimen.

He turns to me. “I picked up something for you today.”

“You did?”

“Yes.” He walks to the cabinet in the center of my closet and pushes something, and a jewelry box comes into view.

“It seemed something was in order for my bountiful day.” He lifts something and walks to me. He opens a square box, and inside is a silver bangle bracelet that appears to be a lock, as one side of it is narrow. It fits into the larger side as he snaps it around my wrist.

I lift my arm to observe the new piece of hardware that reminds me I’m his property. It has a stamp of the jeweler on it, and it occurs to me that he didn’t have his staff pick this out.

“I hope you like it.” He unravels the cuff of his dress shirt and shows me he’s also wearing one. How thoughtful and romantic.

“It’s beautiful,” I murmur. “It’s very thoughtful.”

His phone rings, and he pulls it out of his pocket. He nods to me and states he’s heading to his study as he leaves the room.

I take a deep breath. I need a hot soak in the mammoth bathtub.

I take my time and enjoy a bubble bath. His mansion is humongous, but it’s cold. I can warm it up with a few area rugs and add colorful accents to the rooms.

I wash my hair, sinking under the warm water, and when I pop up, the bracelet catches the light and sparkles as if it’s winking at me.

I’d be na?ve to think our life will be idyllic.

My father’s words haunt me. Why would he tell Alexsei he’s suspicious of Matteo? Matteo has treated me like an equal, and aside from the games at the beginning, he’s been as transparent as a man can be in his position.

When my fingers show signs of water wrinkles, I stand, grabbing a thick towel that I wrap around my hair. I grab another to dry my body as I exit the tub.

“There you are,” Matteo states as he leans against the doorway without a door. My nipples turn hard under his gaze. He unbuttons his shirt and slips out of his shoes.

I feel my heart beating faster in my chest.

“I want you on your knees,” he states as he walks toward me naked. His large cock is stiff and throbbing.

I dry off quickly, pulling the towel from my head and letting my hair cascade over my shoulders. I drop the towel that is between us as his lips take mine by force. His kisses are hard and demanding. He’s a man who knows what he wants, and he wants me to suck his cock.

I sink to my knees and grab his cock with my hand. I stroke him slowly, watching my painted nails move over his cock that pleases me. I slip him into my mouth, and he moans as his hand fists my wet hair, and his pelvis moves to my rhythm.

I’m slick between my legs, ready for him to take me. I glance up, and his eyes are watching my lips that move over his bulging cock. I suck him and run my tongue over his head in a swirling motion that leaves him gasping.

“Turn over with your ass in the air,” he barks.

I comply, thankful for the large fluffy mat beneath me. I am on my hands and knees, and he circles the head of his cock inside my pussy.

“You’re so wet for me,” he murmurs before he grabs my hips and slams inside me. I feel my body produce more juice at the thought of him coming inside me. I brace myself before he slams into me again, causing me to wince in surprise. I’m tight, but his giant cock stretches me to accommodate him.

He slides inside me as his palm pushes my lower back, and his other hand curves around my hip to pull me toward him as he creates a rhythm that slows.

His cock strokes, and waves of pleasure flow over me, causing me to tuck my chin toward my chest. Saliva drips from my lower lip, and I’m helplessly spellbound.

He consumes me. My nipples are stiff peaks, and my breasts jolt back and forth as he pounds me harder and harder. He slides his hand over my belly, and his finger strokes my clit, and we climax together as my screams of euphoria fill the room.

He holds himself in me as if he’s willing a baby. When he’s satisfied, he pulls out and pulls me to him. He lifts me into his arms and carries me to the bed, where he tosses the bedding back.

“You must be tired. I have to work.” He kisses my forehead and disappears into the closet. He pops out minutes later, and I watch him leave the room dressed in a matching jogger outfit.

I am tired, and my body is satiated. It’s been a long day. I close my eyes and try not to think about what will unfold next. My father plans a hostile coup, and my fiancé needs an heir to solidify his empire.

* * *

I wake in a room where heavy drapes filter the morning light. It takes a few seconds to remember I’m in my new home. I look to the other side of the bed, and it is empty. I slide my hand over the soft bedsheet and find it’s cold. I wonder if he came to bed last night.

After brushing my teeth, I flip on the recessed lighting that illuminates my new wardrobe. I run my fingers over the tops of the hangers, and the clothing moves gently against my fingertips.

I walk to the casual clothing area. After working all week, I rejoice in a weekend to explore my new surroundings.

I pull my hair into a messy bun and descend the huge staircase, listening as I walk.

I hope to hear someone speaking so I can discern who’s home.

Is my fiancé here? Without him filling me in on his calendar, I have no idea when he works.

When I pass the dining room, I know the kitchen is next. My feet are clad in no-skid socks, so I don’t make a sound.

“Ahhh,” Federico exclaims and smiles. He walks to me, putting his arm through mine, and leads me to a seat behind the marble island that serves as a workspace and an eating area.

“Good morning, Principessa.” He puts his hand out, indicating I’m to sit.

“What would you like for breakfast? Coffee Americano or espresso? Eggs? Waffles?”

“You don’t have to wait on me. I can do it myself.”

He flings a hand to his forehead. “Mio Dio!” he exclaims.

I giggle at his Italian expression. “What?”

“You are not behaving like a principessa. You are to be waited on like the princess you are,” he states as a fact.

“You mean the princess I’ll be after the wedding? I’m no one, really.”

“Oh, my, it’s true! I heard that you were modest and full of kindness. You are too good for your own good,” he mutters as he walks to a large machine with an Italian name sprawled in bold font along the metal front.

“Where did you hear that?” I wonder who has been talking.

“I can’t reveal my sources. Matteo wouldn’t like us talking. I think you need to have a real espresso,” he adds quickly, changing the subject.

“Great.” I accept his offer because the idea makes him happy. He begins to fiddle with the machine in the opposite corner of the kitchen. I think he’s excited to show me he can make a perfect drink.

The coffee grinder’s growl and hum fill the air, and the smell of freshly ground beans greets my nose.

I watch as he maneuvers the attachment, twists it into the machine, and slips a cup under the spiral that resembles two metal units that spit out coffee until it’s a stream that fills the cup halfway.

“Sugar?”

“Yes, please.” I teeter on the edge of my chair and watch as he dedicates himself to the tiny spoon, sprinkling sugar into the cup, swirling it twice, and placing it on a saucer.

He picks up an aluminum shaker labeled cinnamon and dusts the top of the froth with the brown powder before crossing the expansive kitchen floor and sliding it before me.

He stands on his side of the island and waits.

I lift the drink to my lips. The cup is warm to the touch. I use the tiny handle on the side and take a dainty sip. It’s incredible. It’s the best espresso I’ve ever sipped.

“This is fantastico,” I say, using one of the few Italian words I know because it’s like English.

“Ah, bene,” he replies. “What will you eat? Matteo will not be happy if you skip meals. He was very angry that you had chips for lunch yesterday.”

“It’s a bad habit. What do you feel like cooking?”

“Anything you want. I have it all.”

“I’m hungry. Would it be okay to eat poached eggs on toast with smashed avocados? It sounds very princess-like to me.” I smile as I finish my espresso before it’s cold.

“Splendid. It will take only a few minutes. What do you have planned for the day? What do you want for dinner?”

“I have no idea. Is Matteo home?”

“He’s been in his study with the door closed since dawn.”

“Do you live here?”

“I live nearby. I’m here twelve hours a day, every day. I get out when Matteo is gone for the day to shop and run errands.”

“What about your family and friends? That’s too many hours.”

“I am happy to be here. I came with Matteo as I’ve been with him for years. I’m a retired chef, but we are from the same neighborhood in Sicily. He pays me very well. I can’t complain. My work was my life, and now I’m here.”

I want to ask more questions, but I refrain from doing so because I don’t want to appear nosy. Learning more about my husband-to-be will take time.

Federico serves me breakfast on a white plate decorated with parsley garnish and silverware wrapped in a stiff napkin. He makes another espresso for me. I eat and thank him.

“It’s my job. There is no need for that,” he replies.

“Nonsense, what do you recommend for dinner?”

“I can make fresh dough and put together Caprese pizzas with fresh mozzarella, thinly sliced tomatoes, and balsamic drizzled on top.”

“My mouth is watering,” I reply. “Where is Matteo?”

He nods toward the house’s interior, and I set off searching for the King who owns it.

* * *