by Cora Reilly
“Fuck me,” I whispered harshly.
He reached up and tilted my head to the side before claiming it with his mouth, his tongue taking possession of me. He had finally sheathed himself completely in me and then after a moment of stillness, he started slamming into me. My hands shot out to grip the edge of the washstand. Matteo drove my body against the cold stone as his cock thrust into me, deep and hard.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” Matteo rasped. I moaned in response. It did feel better than anything ever had. Everything about this did. God, what was happening?
I tried to shut my brain off and only focus on the way Matteo’s cock filled me up, how he removed himself almost completely to drive me insane only to slam back into me. The edge of the washbasin dug into my palms as I clung to it. Matteo’s hands moved down, clasping my hips. I threw my head back, gasping and whimpering as I tumbled over the edge again with Matteo close behind. The sound of his moans spurred me on even more. A moment before we both slumped forward, our gazes met in the mirror again. And then I knew why I’d hardly considered running in the last couple of weeks, and it terrified me like nothing ever had.
I quickly looked down, trying to catch my breath, and calm my pounding heart and pulse.
Matteo kissed my shoulder blade. “I’m fucking glad that you are mine.”
I stiffened and would have pulled away if I wasn’t trapped between the washstand and Matteo’s body.
When Matteo eventually pulled out of me and we straightened our clothes and cleaned up, I couldn’t meet his gaze. I wasn’t embarrassed by what we’d done. That ship had sailed. I was confused and terrified by what I’d seen in my own eyes.
Matteo
During sex there were moments when I was certain Gianna was falling for me, but then always came the time afterward and I wasn’t sure if I’d imagined it. In the past I’d always had girls crushing on me even when I never gave them reason to, but Gianna was a difficult nut to crack, and sometimes I caught myself wondering if maybe she’d never fall for me and was only fucking me to get on my good side. Gianna was clever, maybe she was trying to wrap me around her finger with sex so I’d grant her more freedom and she could run away again.
Gianna put a few strands that had fallen out during our quickie back into her updo. She was frowning at her own reflection and pretending I wasn’t there.
When we left the bathroom, she still ignored me. Then she stopped suddenly. “We can’t enter together. Everyone will know what we did.”
I shrugged. I didn’t give a fuck. Gianna was my wife and I’d fuck her whenever I felt like it. “We’ve been gone for a while. They’re probably suspecting already.”
“Great,” Gianna muttered but then she squared her shoulders and headed back to the tables with the other guests without another glance in my direction. So we were back to playing games?
* * *
That night I woke to an empty bed. I jumped to my feet, and searched the room for a sign of Gianna, but she wasn’t there. How could she have run? I didn’t bother putting on pants. Grabbing my gun holster on the way I stormed out of the room and into the living room.
I had to call Luca and tell him. He’d be furious. He hadn’t been happy when I’d removed Gianna’s ankle monitor. My eyes made out a slender figure in an armchair close to the window. Gianna.
I relaxed and discarded my gun holster on a sideboard before I crossed the room toward her. She must have pushed the armchair closer to the window so she could look out. Her legs were pressed up against her chest and her face rested on her knees. She was fast asleep. But even in sleep her brows were drawn together. I wasn’t sure but she looked as if she’d cried. I stopped beside her, staring down at her sleeping form. She must have moved very quietly for me not to hear her. I was a light sleeper. She’d even managed to put on pajamas. My gaze darted to the elevator console. Had she tried to crack the code and escape? The alarm would have alerted me to any attempts, and yet the suspicion remained. I hated that I didn’t trust her. It wasn’t as if I was used to trusting people, except for Luca, but I wanted to trust my wife. Of course it was difficult to develop trust when Gianna didn’t even have the chance to prove herself.
If I gave her more freedom, and she didn’t try to run, then I could start trusting her, but I had a feeling I’d never see her again if I did. I was too selfish and possessive. I didn’t want to lose her, even if that was what was best for her. My eyes returned to her face and the sadness that seemed to be edged into it.
I slipped my hands under her body and lifted her into my arms. She didn’t wake as I carried her back into our bedroom, back where I wanted her and where she belonged, but where she didn’t want to be.
I put her down on the bed, but I didn’t lie down next to her. I was too angry at myself for my wimpy thoughts. What did it matter if Gianna wanted to be my wife? What did it matter if she’d rather return to Munich and find some other idiot like Sid? She was mine and I wasn’t a good guy. I didn’t give a damn about other people’s feelings. I felt on the edge, like I needed to hit something to get a grip. With a growl, I grabbed my gym clothes, put them on, grabbed my car keys and left the apartment.
I punched the code into the elevator panel and rode it down into the parking garage. I mounted my motorcycle, shot out of the garage and raced through the city toward our gym. Apart from a guard, it was deserted, which was a pity because I would have loved to actually spar with someone, instead of a fucking dummy.
I didn’t bother with boxing gloves. I wanted to feel every hit. Facing the dummy, I started pummeling it, alternating between kicks and punches.
I was still at it when the gym started filling up with familiar faces. Nobody disturbed me. Apart from a short nod, they stayed the fuck away from me. They all knew what was good for them.
“Trying to kill a poor dummy?” came Luca’s drawl.
I landed another hard kick against the head before I turned around to my brother. He wasn’t wearing gym clothes. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you.”
“Why?”
“Because you weren’t there when I came to pick you up in your apartment this morning.”
“You went into my apartment while I wasn’t there?”
Luca rolled his eyes. “I didn’t touch your wife, but I left Aria and Romero with her.”
I nodded, trying to calm the fuck down. I was still on edge. I wasn’t even sure why.
“Take a shower and get dressed. You look like you need a drink,” Luca said in his Capo voice.
I didn’t protest. I felt like a truck had run me over. I must have been in the gym for hours. It was already light outside. Luca and I went to one of our dance clubs. Except for the cleaning ladies, it was still deserted. I grabbed a whiskey bottle from the shelf, and Luca and I settled at the bar. In most social circles it was probably considered too early for alcohol. Luckily we didn’t have to obey those stupid rules.
Luca and I emptied our glasses, then he fixed me with his big-brother stare. “So what’s going on? Are you already growing tired of your obnoxious wife?”
I downed another glass of whiskey, waiting for the familiar burning to turn into warmth that spread in my chest. “Why do you ask?”
Luca cocked one eyebrow. “Maybe because you prefer spending the night in a sweaty gym than in bed with your young wife.”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“And you couldn’t come up with something more entertaining to do than kickboxing a dummy?”
“You’re starting to grate on my nerves,” I said.
Luca ignored my warning tone. “To be honest I’m surprised you lasted this long with her. If I spend more than ten minutes in a room with Gianna, I want to seal my ears with hot wax.”
“I’m not tired of her. I actually like Gianna’s obnoxious personality. She spices things up. Life would be boring if she were like the other trophy wives.”
Luca narrowed his eyes. “Aria isn’t just a trophy wife.”
Of
course he was allowed to get angry when I even remotely insulted Aria but he could talk shit about Gianna all the time. “I didn’t say anything about Aria. But I prefer my women…”
“Annoying and foulmouthed,” Luca finished for me, before he took the whiskey bottle out of my hand. “Then what’s the problem? Why are you sulking like a whiny bitch?”
I was waiting for one of my usual clever comebacks to pop into my mind, but I drew a fucking blank. That was serious bullshit. “I’m starting to think that Gianna might always hate me. I thought it was her way to be interesting and a challenge, a sort of game at the end of which she’d come to her fucking senses and fall for me like all the girls I’ve pursued before her, but I’m pretty sure Gianna is a challenge I’m losing. She won’t come around. I think she hates this life a bit more every fucking day.”
Luca scanned my face. “This is really bothering you.”
He said it as if that was the biggest fucking surprise of his life, as if I was a fucking robot that wasn’t capable of emotions. “That, coming from you,” I said with a smirk. “Before Aria I wasn’t even sure you were capable of liking anyone, least of all a woman.”
“You make it sound like I’m a fag. It’s not that I didn’t like women. They were just not something I considered useful outside of the bedroom.”
I shook my head. “How the hell did you get Aria to love you? It’s like the fucking eighth Wonder of the World. Are there any new drugs you’re not telling me about?”
“You’re wasted, Matteo.”
“I’m not. If you’d stop hogging the fucking whiskey, I might get the chance to be in a couple of hours.” I ripped the bottle from his hand and took a swig. “Gianna is like a tiger in the fucking zoo, caged in. It’s fucking depressing to watch her look for a way to escape captivity.”
“Did she try to run again?”
“How could she? I’m keeping her on a tight leash.”
“You’re not thinking about letting her go, are you?”
I didn’t think I could, and I didn’t want to. I was selfish and that wouldn’t change any time soon. I still wanted Gianna. I wanted her gorgeous body in my bed every night, and my cock in her tight pussy. I wanted everything from her, most of all the things she was refusing to give me. “Would you let me?”
“No. The Famiglia is already displeased as it is. You’d look even weaker if you’d let her run away again. I really don’t need the additional trouble. Not to mention the fucking Outfit would probably declare fucking war on us if we managed to lose Gianna again. Her father is being a real pain in the ass.” He gave me his Capo look, which was meant to intimidate the rest of the world, but was useless on me as he fucking well knew. “You won’t let her get away. You’re stuck with her until the bitter end, and she with you. I don’t care if she’s fucking unhappy and if she hates you, she’ll just have to deal.”
“Wow, you’re full of sunshine and rainbows today, aren’t you?” I knew he was right, and really it wasn’t like I’d tell Gianna she could go but somehow his words managed to piss me off anyway. “You realize the only thing stopping Gianna from slicing my throat at night is that she can’t see blood. Do you know how reassuring it is to fall asleep beside someone who’s probably fantasizing to see you dead so she can be free.” She’d never said it in so many words but sometimes I thought I saw it in her eyes. Or maybe I was so fucking messed up that I was always thinking the worst of others.
“I hope you’re joking,” Luca said dryly.
“Who knows?” I emptied the whiskey bottle. I could feel the first treacherous signs of a nice buzz. I grinned. “Sometimes she’s definitely trying to kill me with her eyes.”
“Maybe then you shouldn’t sleep in a room with her. She might get over her fear of blood at some point.”
“Nah. Not anytime soon. And she isn’t the violent type, not really.”
“I wouldn’t count on that. She can be really unhinged.”
“You weren’t worried about sleeping beside Aria when she still despised you so why should I?”
“You can’t compare Aria to Gianna. They are like two different species. And I trust Aria absolutely. She caught a fucking bullet for me.”
“Must be nice,” I muttered. “Gianna would probably applaud my shooter.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Gianna
Matteo was in a strange mood, had been ever since he’d found me in the living room two nights ago. He hadn’t said much, which was unusual for him. I wasn’t sure if he was angry at something I’d done, and I didn’t really care. That night I’d promised myself that I’d have to stop whatever was going on between him and me. I’d sworn to myself that I’d never become one of those women, that I’d never marry a Made Man, and much less develop feelings for him.
Christmas was only five days away but we both definitely hadn’t caught the holiday spirit yet. There wasn’t a single piece of Christmas decoration in our apartment. I’d considered asking Matteo to buy a tree and decorate it together, but then the panic had set in again and I hadn’t said anything. Instead I’d accepted the strange mood between us almost with relief.
Matteo was gripping the steering wheel in a steel grip as we drove away from the last Christmas party of the season. The hosts had rented a deserted warehouse and turned into a winter wonderland with fake snow and a real ice bar. Aria and Luca were still there but Matteo’s bad temper had caused Luca to send us away early. He’d probably worried that Matteo would end up killing someone again. I couldn’t blame him.
The road was covered with a fine sheen of frost which glittered in the glare of our spotlights.
“You know what’s funny?” Matteo asked in a tight voice.
I glanced toward him, his tense body and dark expression.
“Whenever you think I’m not watching, you look like you might be happy and then the moment our eyes meet, it’s like ‘poof’ and the happiness is gone.”
I wasn’t sure what to tell him.
“Why do you insist on being miserable?”
Before I could formulate an answer, Matteo suddenly floored the gas. I was pressed into the seat. “What are you doing? You don’t have to kill us because you’re pissed.”
Matteo peered into the side mirror. “I’m not trying to kill us. I’m trying to save our lives.”
Something collided with our trunk. I glanced over my shoulder. Headlights of another SUV filled the rear window.
“Who are they?” I asked.
“Russians would be my guess. I noticed them too late. Fuck. This happens when I get distracted by other shit.”
We were the only cars in this part of the industrial area. Matteo twisted the steering wheel and we shot around a corner into a narrow street between two high storehouses.
“Head down,” Matteo barked.
I obeyed at once. Struggling against my seat belt, I leaned forward. A second later, our pursuers shot at us. The rear window exploded and shards rained down on us. Matteo didn’t react, he kept driving like a madman. He’d somehow even managed to pull his own gun.
I clutched the seat, my head pressed against my legs as I jerked back and forth with every twist and turn of the car. The tires were screeching, gunshots whistling through the air, glass bursting. A new shower of shards rained down on me as the side window in the back exploded as well.
“Fuck,” Matteo snarled while he tried to get a connection with his phone, probably to call Luca. Fear was clogging my throat tightly. Fear for my own life was only a small part of it. Seeing Matteo in clear line of fire terrified me even more. He couldn’t duck his head. One bullet and everything could be over.
We turned another corner and I slammed against the door. I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting my rising sickness.
More shots rang out and Matteo let out a hiss. I peered to the side. Matteo was still driving and shooting at our pursuers, but he was bleeding from wounds in his arm and shoulder. That moment another bullet grazed his head, blood spurting everywhere, even on my face. M
atteo didn’t even seem to care; he fired another round of shots. Suddenly we were spinning, the car out of control. I wrapped my arms around my chest as I was thrown around in my seat. Through half-closed eyes I saw our car shooting toward a massive wall and then there was an earsplitting crash as we smashed into it. My body jerked forward, the air rushing out of me as I was flung against the safety belt. It cut into my collarbone, and my vision turned black. Then something soft exploded in my face, stopping my impact.
I didn’t know how long I hung limply in my seat belt, my face buried in the deflating airbag as I tried to catch my breath. My ears were ringing but eventually that faded and silence greeted me. With a groan I sat up, ignoring my throbbing headache. Smoke was rising from our crushed hood, slowly filling the car through the broken windows. I blinked to get rid of the dots dancing in and out of my vision. My entire body was sore but nothing seemed to be broken. At least I could move.
I turned to the driver’s side and stilled. It was dark in the car. Our lights were smashed but from somewhere a distant glow illuminated what was around me. Matteo was slumped over the steering wheel. Like many mafia cars, the driver didn’t have an airbag because it was a bother during car chases. Blood plastered his dark hair to his forehead, soaked his shirt and dripped down on his pants. So much blood. He must have hit his head against the steering wheel or maybe the dashboard when we’d collided with the wall.
Was he dead?
He wasn’t moving, and I couldn’t see if he was breathing. I held my breath, listening for a sound. There was nothing. I blinked, then peered over my shoulder to see where our pursuers were. Their car had smashed into another building and had already caught fire. They were definitely dead. Was our car going to start burning too? I needed to get out.
Wasn’t this the chance I’d been waiting for? Matteo and I were alone. Nobody was here to stop me from running. I could leave and be free. I unbuckled myself, then glanced at Matteo again. I needed to check if he was dead, but somehow I couldn’t. What if he was really gone? What if he was dead? My throat felt tight and raw. My lungs refused to work as panic settled in my body. God, what if he was dead? What was wrong with me? Hadn’t I wanted him out of my life six months ago? This was my chance, probably the only chance I’d ever get. The smell of gas drifted into my nose, and the smoke inside the car was starting to burn in my eyes. Matteo was a killer. He wasn’t a good man. If you asked most people, they’d say he deserved death.
