Page 42 of Mafia King: Matteo (Borrelli Mafia #1)

ALENA

The loud noise sounded like a gun went off, and my heart skipped a beat. What was it? I can’t move as Matteo and Gio tower over me protecting me with their bodies. I’m stunned. I had no time to react.

Gio straightens and says, “We’re clear.” Matteo then stands but checks and runs his hands over me as if I’m an apparition.

“What happened?” I ask.

“Backfire of a car,” Gio explains.

“God, damn it. That scared the life right out of me.” I grab my coat closer to me—as if it were a shield.

The men rush me down the steps and to the waiting car.

I guess they don’t want to tempt fate. It’s late.

We’re in the city. We only have Gio. It feels like we are being warned that we are never safe. I’m sure it was a coincidence.

Matteo fawns over me the entire ride home. He’s visibly shaken. His brother’s girlfriend was murdered a day ago. Now, my father might be missing, and the backfire of a car has us all on edge. Is this my future? Is the car’s backfire a bad omen?

I’ve had too much to drink. I can’t wait to get home. I’d be embarrassed if I was sick in the limo. I do not want Matteo to see me puking. It will ruin his perfect vision of me.

When we arrive home, I step into his arms, seeing that I am unsteady. He carries me into our home and up the stairs.

“You don’t have to do this,” I protest.

“Yes, I do. I’ll have to limit your martinis. And mixing liquor is never a good idea.”

“But the stuff you have from Italy is much better.”

“It is,” he replies. We reach our bedroom, and he lowers me to the bed. He takes off my shoes. I hear them hit the floor, and with how much they must have cost, I’m mortified they are in a heap and not placed on a shelf.

He senses my concern.

“The maid will clean the room in the morning.”

“I don’t feel good,” I say, putting a hand to my head.

“Sit here. I’ll be back.”

Matteo returns with a washcloth. “Lean back,” he says. I comply. My head hits the pillow before he returns and places a cold compress to my forehead. “Better?”

“Much, thank you.”

“If you feel sick, let me know.”

“I will,” I whisper as I close my eyes, and the darkness swirls. Is the room moving?

I hear Matteo moving about the room, probably undressing. He returns to me, flips the washcloth, and helps me out of the dress.

I can only imagine the makeup smeared over my face. I must look like a freak show. I close my eyes and will myself to sleep off the impending hangover.

The sound of the wind batting the side of the house wakes me in the middle of the night.

Matteo pulls me closer to him. I feel his hard cock on my buttocks.

His hand naturally cups my breasts, and I’m filled with desire.

The room is dark, and in under a minute, Matteo has caressed my body, making me slick for him. He pulls me on top of him.

I sit on his pelvis and take my time lowering myself onto his hard shaft.

I lean forward and give myself room to pull to the top of his head, giving him a long stroke before I slide down his hard cock.

My hands clench his muscular shoulders, and as desire fills me, my nails dig into his taut back.

I find myself climbing the wave of euphoria that consumes me.

“Fuck me, Angel. Fuck me,” his husky voice penetrates the darkness.

I move faster and faster as his fingers tweak my nipples.

“That’s a good girl,” he coaxes.

I come as he pulls my nipples until they hurt. My oblivion washes over me, and I hear my voice screaming.

I squirt on his head. I’ve soaked him. My wetness is the puddle between us.

“I can’t wait to get you pregnant,” he murmurs.

I nestle into the crux of his arm and lay my head on his chest, where I fall asleep again.

When I awake in the morning, Matteo is by my side and hands me a cold glass of water and two aspirin.

“How are you?”

“Better than I expected, but this will help.” I swallow the tiny pills and hope my headache will go away. “No more martinis. My goodness. What was I thinking?”

“I think that’s the point. You didn’t want to think. It was a nice party. Dmitry and I have some things in common, and you and Izzy were like twins.”

“I know,” I smile as I get out of bed. “We tend to get caught up in ourselves. How long have you been up?”

“Hours. My brother used my jet here, and he arrived early.”

“Really? I can’t wait to meet him. How is he?”

Jet? Does he own a jet?

I gasp. When I turn, he’s gone.

When I enter the bathroom, my face looks like the glitter fairy puked on it.

How do I remove this stuff? I pick up makeup remover made with oil and hope it works.

I rub the clear substance over my face, and fifteen minutes later, I assume I’ll have to let some of the sparkles wear off.

Thankfully, I don’t have to clean the floor.

I’m sure glitter is all over the bedsheets and bathroom floor.

I hear men’s voices as I go to the dining room, and Federico takes my breakfast order.

A handsome, tall man with dark hair approaches. I immediately recognize the family resemblance. Their stature is the same, and they share the same skin tone.

“I’m Niccoló. Welcome to the family,” he says, taking my hand in his. His hands are larger and rougher than I expected.

“Thank you. I’m so sorry for your loss,” I murmur.

“Thank you.” He sits to Matteo’s left. “I hear you were at quite an event last night.”

“It was. How was your flight?”

“A jet to myself? I slept from exhaustion.”

I know he’s referring to his sleepless nights rather than the time change. Matteo mentioned he is having a difficult time. It had to be horrible to stumble into a bloody crime scene. I didn’t want the details.

I eat, and we talk. Afterward, the men invited me to study with them. I send Matteo a questioning glance, and he nods.

I make myself comfortable on the couch as Matteo sits in his leather chair and Niccoló paces.

“I have a letter from Chiara. Her sister was able to slip it to me at the funeral in a room where no one would see us. She said Chiara had told her to give it to me in case anything happened to her. She promised she would. She had no idea what was in the sealed envelope.”

He pauses, and his face is about to erupt in tears from the sound of his voice.

“It’s Chiara’s confession. She killed our father.

She had an affair last year. The man meant nothing to her, and she ended it.

She was afraid to tell me. She loved me and was afraid of losing me.

She said it was a stupid mistake. All she knew was that a Sicilian man with a Cosa Nostra tattoo approached her after work one night.

He gave her the poison and told her he would be watching her and that they would kill her sister if she didn’t do as she was told. ”

“That’s barbaric,” I exclaim and look at Matteo. He’s not surprised, and I wonder if he’s done something similar.

“It happens. Sicily is a different world,” Matteo interjects.

“Chiara knew she was being watched. She was stressed and couldn’t tell anyone.

She sent the letter with directions to her sister.

She was afraid her sister would be killed if she met with her.

She felt as if she was being followed. This explains why she suddenly worked more and saw less of me.

I knew something was off. I should have known someone would use her to get to us.

Why is it the women in our life pay for our sins?

” Niccoló’s voice cracks. He sinks to the floor in grief.

“So, they knew of her affair and used her as a weapon against the family. She had our trust. It was easy for her to slip Dad something. Don’t blame yourself, Niccolò.

She was in a situation where she was going to die either way.

She wanted to live, so she did what they wanted.

She had no way of knowing that she was a loose end and that they would kill her whether she did it or not.

She can identify the man who approached her, and it would lead to someone else,” Matteo says.

He walks to his brother and pulls him into his embrace.

“You can’t blame yourself. You have to find the will to live. ”

“Who did this?” I ask, feeling helpless as I sit on the sidelines.

“The Cosa Nostra could be working on anyone’s behalf,” Niccoló says as he finally hugs his brother and sits beside me. He buries his face in his hands. I move closer and put my arm around him to comfort him.

“I’m so sorry. Try to remember when you were both at your happiest time together.

You can’t let them destroy you.” I try to encourage him to live and hope it will get easier as time passes, but I wonder if that’s possible.

He was dedicated to her and remains faithful to her memory in the wake of her death.

“I’ll never love again. I loved her with all my heart. These men are cruel. Life is cruel, and love is not worth the pain it causes. You shouldn’t marry Matteo. Alena is in danger. The Borrelli men are cursed.”

“I know of curses and have repeatedly questioned them, but it doesn’t have to end badly.”

“I can tell you love Alena and that she loves you. They will use her to get to you.”

“Unless I get to them first.” Matteo stands and paces.

“We might be overthinking this. What if it is related to the Cosa Nostra? They have no way of knowing we know they approached Chiara. Perhaps there was bad blood between Dad and Santino Moretti here in New York. Dad’s advisor knew something, as Gio and I found him dead in his apartment.

While we were there, we heard the paramedics and cops were approaching. ”

“You were being followed?” Niccoló asks.

“Yes, and we assume we are still being watched. Someone doesn’t want us to know what happened between two families that have never been friends. But what set this in motion?” Matteo stares out the French doors and watches the snow flurries.

My eyes follow where he’s looking. The sky is gray. Dark clouds are moving in. I get lost in their darkness that never ends.

My phone dings. I jump.

Kirill texts. I read it and relay the news. “It’s my friend Kirill. He worked under my father, but he’s been reassigned. He’s under a capo now.”

“This means your father isn’t going to be found,” Matteo states matter-of-factly.

“What do you mean? Someone is missing?” Niccoló asks, but is trying to catch up with what’s happening.

“My father works as an advisor to the don, and he’s been making enemies,” I state. “The story is longer than that, but your brother and I knew it was coming.”

Niccoló turns to face me. “I’m sorry. Were you close?”

“No. However, I should call my mother,” I state. I stand and look at Matteo. “Do you need me?”

“I got this,” he replies. He touches my hand briefly as I walk past him. I feel electricity from his touch. His strength reassures me that we can overcome what lies ahead together.

I phone my mother, who rants hysterically. I can’t understand a word she says. I remind myself to be patient. I saw this coming—she didn’t. She’s in shock.

“Who would hurt your father?”

“There are plenty of people, Mom. Dad was doing inappropriate things. He might have used Bratva’s funds for his agenda.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about. We have bills to pay. We still owe on the house,” she sobs.

“Mom, be calm. Don’t do anything.”

“I need to call the police,” she says.

“Sure, but don’t give them any information. He just didn’t come home after work. Do you understand?”

“Yes, of course. I’m not stupid.”

“Okay, keep me posted.”

I get a call from the wedding planner and give her the updated list of invitees, and Federico pops into the living room, stating that it’s time for lunch.

Matteo joins me.

“Where’s Niccoló?”

“He ran into the city. He’s going to meet with our trainer.”

“What trainer?”

“We own some gyms.” He sits and begins to eat.

“What kind of gyms?”

“The usual,” he says, but he continues when I raise my eyebrow for more information. “Fine. We also do underground boxing, and Niccoló used to be very good. I didn’t want him to go, but he said he’d find somewhere to box, so I gave him our guy. This way, I can keep an eye on him.”

“This is about Chiara, isn’t it?”

“He blames himself. What man wouldn’t? It’s his way of coping. It’s better than beating up strangers.”

“True. But still, he’s so handsome. I’d hate to see that change.”

“It’s the way it is. He’s a man, and he has a talent for it.”

I want to ask what he does for the family, but I’m not sure I want to know.

* * *