Love and Chaos

by S. M. Soto

  I’ve read about this in enough baby books to know I’m nesting. I can’t seem to help it though. I’ve just decided to embrace it.

  Something tingles down my spine. It’s an awareness. A sensation of someone’s gaze on me, so I turn around, my eyes widening on the woman standing in the doorway. There’s a scowl on her face as she surveys the nursery. It’s like she doesn’t even see me. She’s just seeing everything in the room. The cold expression on her face and her stoic demeanor make my heart jump into my throat and my stomach clench.

  Who the hell is she?

  I rake my gaze up and down her tall form. Her body is perfection. All long legs, lean body and healthy amount of cleavage. Her features are striking, like that of a model, with dark hair, big pouty lips and sharp brows plucked to perfection. Even with all that, she gives off a hard exterior. I don’t get the impression she’s sweet as pie, if anything, it’s quite the opposite. My momma bear senses go on high alert.

  Clutching my son’s baby clothes to my chest, I clear my throat, grasping at some bravado before addressing her. “Can I help you?”

  At the sound of my voice, she tears her eyes away from the crib and the decorations around the room, that cold brown gaze fixing on me. I feel her sizing me up. The way her eyes linger on my face, cataloging every detail, moving to my chest and then they settle on my swollen belly for the longest time.

  For what? I have no idea, but it makes me stand taller. I can’t help the way my heart is pounding in my chest.

  Who is this woman?

  And what is she doing over here? The south wing of the estate is strictly for Creed and I. Did Matteo have a visitor and she got lost? I throw that idea out immediately as I stare at her. If she was a guest of his, surely she would be with him, not just wandering around.

  Her gaze finally meets mine, her narrowed brown eyes clashing with my greens and she scoffs. Downright scoffs. My chest tightens and my brows pull down.

  “I’m sorry, but this is my son’s nursery, you need to leave.”

  At my demand, her painted lips thin into a grim line and if possible, I feel the burn of her glare. It incinerates me. Unease trickles down my spine. Whoever this woman is, she’s certainly not a friend. More like foe. With my free hand, I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear and her eyes follow the movement, they widen on the ring sitting on my ring finger, and her entire demeanor changes after that. Her eyes shoot back up to mine then narrow, almost threateningly.

  “Well,” she says with a laugh, her voice raspy, like that of a late night telephone operator. “Isn’t this just fucking quaint. Cute little room and the innocent little doe wife to match.” She scoffs again. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

  My fingers tighten on the material of the clothes with irritation. I don’t know who she is, but her attitude is starting to piss me off.

  “Who are you?” I demand, done with the bullshit.

  She smirks. Her eyes glinting. “Elisea.”

  I raise a brow. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

  Her eyes flash like she’s surprised I don’t know the name, but the taunting smirk on her face never slips. “Your baby daddy and I have history. And by history, I mean I’ve ridden his cock more times than I can count.”

  My heart seizes at her words. My chest tightens with pain and fills with ice, the cool sensation is piercing, making it impossible to breathe. I can’t stop the stinging sensation. I have to stifle the urge to press my palm against my chest and tamp down the pain.

  I look up and down at her, trying to refute her words, maybe make an excuse as to why she’d be lying, but I know she isn’t. I can tell by the gleam in her eyes. This woman, she’s…she’s slept with Creed. She’s slept with my Creed. The man I’m going to marry. The man I’m having a child with. She’s had what is mine, who knows how many times. I’ve never felt angrier. More hurt. More possessive than I do now. I fight back the stinging sensation behind my eyelids and square my shoulders.

  It’ll be a cold day in hell before I let her see the chink in my armor.

  “I would say it’s a pleasure, Elisea, but I’d be lying. Get out of my son’s room.”

  She smirks. “Make sure you tell Diavolo I’m sorry I haven’t been answering his calls, but I’m here now.”

  Pain. Chest crushing pain.

  Don’t you dare show her your weakness. Hold yourself together, Sophia. Hold yourself together. I chant internally, trying to remain calm and aloof on the outside when all I want to do is cry, just thinking about Creed with another woman. Especially this woman. She’s gorgeous. I can already picture them together, rolling in bed, in the throes of passion. It causes my chest to cave with pain.

  I don’t want to be that woman, so jealous over a former lover she can’t see straight, but she’s definitely making it hard.

  “On second thought, I’ll just give him a call on his personal phone. Since he’s out of town, right? I know the whole mistress and wife thing is probably still an issue for you.”

  I open my mouth, wanting to say something, to fight back in some way, but my throat is tight, emotion clogging my airway, keeping my vocals chords from working. I know her words aren’t true. He’d never do that to me. Not to us. But that doesn’t stop the sudden wave of pain from engulfing me.

  A dark shadow looms near the door, and my heart lurches in my chest. Matteo’s face is clear of all emotion, so cold and indifferent, but there’s something in his eyes that scares the living shit out of me as he steps into the room, eyes fixed on Elisea. She stiffens and I see her try to brush it off, but if I caught it then surely, Matteo caught it too.

  “Isn’t this a pleasant surprise.” His tone is scary. It sends a chill down my spine because it’s the opposite of his words. It doesn’t sound to me like he’s at all feeling like anything about this encounter with Elisea is pleasant. “When Diavolo made it clear you were no longer allowed on the property, I thought you’d get it. But when I made it clear that you weren’t to come back here, I expected you to heed that warning, puttana.”

  For all the bravado she showed me, I watch as she slowly cowers away from Matteo. He’s been stepping closer and closer into her space; if he keeps this up, she’ll be plastered against the wall, wishing it would swallow her whole. My eyes widen as the scene unfolds before me.

  “If I find you on the estate again, you’re done. Capiche?”

  Her lips thin, and she doesn’t bother with a nod. She shoots me a scathing glare over Matteo’s shoulder, and as quickly as she came in, Elisea slips out of the nursery. I hear a bang against the wall in the hallway and her angered curses hissed at whoever is dragging her away, seeing her off the property.

  A gust of breath expels from my lungs, and I drop down onto the rocking chair, clutching my son’s clothes to my chest. I know she’s lying. I know Creed wouldn’t cheat on me. He wouldn’t propose and then be sleeping with another woman. It’s not like him; if he doesn’t want something, he wouldn’t be a coward, I know this and yet, it doesn’t stop the tears or the pain from invading my chest. The thought of Creed with another woman made me unreasonably angry. We both had pasts before each other, but having Elisea try to rub it in my face? I hate her. I’m so fucking angry.

  I press my lips together and sniff, lost in my tumultuous thoughts just as a shadow moves across the floor. I hastily wipe at my tears, forgetting Matteo is still in the room. When I glance up at him, I glare. Why would he let that woman inside, knowing his son has slept with her before, knowing I’m here? I’m angry at him. I’m angry at everyone.

  “She’s lying, you know,” he says it so casually as he leans against the wall. It irritates me.

  “I know that,” I snap, wiping angrily at the tears. I don’t think I’ve cried more than I have during this pregnancy.

  “Then why are you crying, principessa?”

  I glare harder, if possible. “It doesn’t make hearing it any easier. The thought of him with another woman…it…it makes me angry.”

>   His eyes drop down to the heavy, glittering diamond on my finger. He stares at it for a beat. And when he looks up, there’s an expression on his face I can’t quite put my finger on.

  “So you said yes.”

  “Of course I did.”

  What was I going to do? Say no when the love of my life asks me to marry him?

  “You’re both not as smart as I thought you were.”

  The dig makes my blood boil with rage. How dare he. He has no right to pass off judgment on us when he did the same thing with his wife. A woman who is now deceased.

  “What is everyone’s problem with me?” I growl. “Why am I such an issue? Such a threat to your precious outfit, syndicate, whatever the hell it is, huh? Am I making him change, no I’m not. Am I asking him to leave it all behind for us, no I’m not because I know he can’t and I’d never do that to him. You don’t even know me. How could you possibly pass off judgment on me, like this is the wrong decision. I love him.” My chest is heaving by the time I finish my spiel and Matteo looks no different. As if my words don’t matter to him at all.

  “I never said you didn’t love him. That seems to be the problem because you make him weak, Sophia.” My hands clench into fists. Not this stupid shit again. “And everyone else’s problem? I can’t speak for the rest of my men, but for me?” he takes a step toward me and I blanch, even though he took a bullet for me, I’d be an idiot not to fear this man. “It’s how foolish you both are. Your notions of love are misplaced in this world. It’ll be the demise. Of all of us. Diavolo has everything riding on his shoulders. Especially now. One wrong move and everything I’ve worked to hold up will be gone.”

  My throat feels like sandpaper as I swallow. “And why are you so sure he’s going to screw it up?”

  “Because of you. You’re his weakness and his strength all rolled into one. It makes him unpredictable.”

  “And why is that?” I snap. “Because he’s not the heartless Devil you trained him to be?”

  “Quite the opposite.”

  I deflate. “Why can’t you just let him be happy? I know you care about him. But it’s like you’re hell-bent on seeing him fall.”

  His features harden. “Is that what you think? That I want to see him fall? I’m trying to prevent it. Because when he falls—if he loses either of you, I won’t be able to contain him, or the fallout. You think you’ve seen him at his worst? I’ll do you one better, principessa. There’s a reason he gets rid of problems for me. There’s a reason I named him Diavolo. Because he’s just that. A fallen, rebellious angel. Half his mother, half me.”

  I glance away from the burning intensity in his eyes. I want to scream and rage at Matteo for making his son into this…machine. But at the same time, I understand it. He did what he needed to do to protect Creed.

  “I won’t let our son be dragged into this. Any of it.”

  Matteo chuckles like I’m a well of entertainment and I swing my gaze to his, burning a hole through his skull. What the hell is he laughing at?

  He runs a hand through his hair, much like his son does. “I’m starting to think my wife sent you and my son on the same path for a reason. You’re more like her than you have any right to be.”

  I ignore his comment, glancing at the empty doorway behind him. My lips thin as I think about Creed and Elisea. As I think about the future. Our son growing up in this environment. Now I understand why Creed is always on edge. He’s been protecting us from this. Just like Valentina and Matteo surely tried to protect him from it.

  “I don’t want her here.”

  He nods. Growing serious. “She’s been escorted off the property. I didn’t know she’d requested to be here in place of some of the other girls.”

  “Other girls?” I ask, my brows creasing.

  “Paid escorts. Elisea has been an escort for years in the outfit.” My stomach roils at his words. “Diavolo can explain the rest to you. But you won’t have to worry about seeing her anymore.”

  Inhaling a deep breath, I nod my thanks. I won’t say them aloud. They’d probably taste like acid on my tongue. As Matteo and I stay there in silence, I can finally understand Creed’s tumultuous feelings toward his father. He’s…difficult to understand. Sometimes, I can’t tell if there are any redeeming qualities to the man.

  On one hand, I feel bad for him. And on the other, at times like this, I want to strangle him. I want to understand what Creed’s mother saw in the man. It makes me want to dive back in time to know their story.

  “Why do you do it?” I ask. “Why do you bring all those women here? A place that was hers. A place she decorated to the T.”

  Hell, it’s like he’s pissing on her grave.

  Something passes across Matteo’s face. I’m not sure if it’s guilt or sadness, but whatever it is, it thickens around him. I see it bloom in his eyes. The sadness there is almost unbearable to look at.

  “She’s been gone twenty-two years. I’m not a saint, principessa, I never pretended to be.”

  My lips purse. “That doesn’t mean you can’t have some respect for your wife.” It’s out of line. I have no right to be saying any of this. But I can’t seem to help it. After learning everything I have about Creed’s mother, it feels right to defend her.

  “You’re right.” He eventually says after a long span of silence. “I’ve gone twenty-two years without a woman I loved more than life itself. Ask me, Sophia, if that love has ever faded? Ask me if it has wavered? I do what I need to do to survive. I don’t invite those escorts here for my pleasure. It’s for theirs,” he says, lowly, referring to Giovanni and the rest of his men. “You think I look like a man capable of running an entire empire by pinning after someone? I bury myself in my problems so I don’t have to deal with it. Could you last twenty-two years without him?”

  The backs of my eyes sting, because no, I couldn’t. Would I move on from Creed if ever lost him? Not possible. But for a man like Matteo, I understand, it’s a way to forget. It’s not because he wants to tarnish her memory. He’s trying to save memories that matter and survive while doing it. He’s trying to maintain his persona of a man who doesn’t feel anything. Even the death of his own wife.

  I nod. But don’t say anything more. I should probably apologize, but I can’t seem to bring myself to do it. Matteo has a way about him where I don’t feel the need to apologize for speaking my mind like I normally do.

  “When did you know she was the one?”

  His face pinches. This is the first time I’ve ever seen pain flit across Matteo’s face. And out of everything I’ve said to him today, this is the first thing I’ve regretted.

  “Easy,” he says quietly. “The second my father slid her picture across the table, toward my brother.”

  My heart squeezes in a vise. I can’t imagine falling in love with someone who is meant to be married to your brother.

  “Did you…you had to watch them together, didn’t you?”

  He gets this faraway look in his eyes and I know he’s remembering. He’s taken back in time when he was that guy.

  “I did.” He sighs. “For about two years. I had to watch her with him. It was something, even while married, it was hard to accept and get over, knowing my brother had what was always supposed to be mine.”

  He leans up against the wall, losing himself in the past, recounting everything by memory, almost like he’s forgetting I’m here and who he’s talking to. Who he’s choosing to confide in.

  “She hated him. I could tell. When they were forced to spend time together, he’d take advantage of her. She was sweet and kind, too beautiful for a world like ours. That’s why he wanted to corrupt her so badly. Tarnish every good thing she had to offer in our world.

  “Every time he was looking at her, she was looking at me. From the time she was fourteen, she was promised to my brother and it wasn’t until she was seventeen that my father realized she was better off with me. I was smarter. Stronger. I’d be able to take care of la famiglia and her. Gabriele never
liked that. This world…our world had changed him. Made him darker. He wanted to hurt everyone. Including her. Make her pay for things that weren’t her doing. And I couldn’t have that. So I made sure I was the only option for her and my father. The obvious option. The son with his head on straight.”

  “So she always loved you.”

  Matteo chuckles self depreciatingly. “No. Not always. There was a point in time when Valentina hated me. Many times actually. There were just as many times I hated her too. Despite everything, deep down she knew no matter what, no matter how hard she fought, she’d never be free from this life, she’d always belong to me. And after Diavolo was born, she hated me too. It was a different kind of hate. But I also saw the love. She hated that she could still love a monster like me. Even while I was doing what I had to do to prep our son for this life.”

  Emotion builds in my chest, expanding in my lungs, making it hard to breathe as I think of Creed. As a child, hurt, forced to do things and endure things no child should have to endure. My hands immediately fly to my stomach as I think of history repeating itself. Will Creed turn into his father when it comes to our son? Or will this be different, is this where the fucked up cycle finally stops?

  I can only hope. Because Matteo just might be right, I might be too much like Creed’s mother to survive a life like this.

  After dropping that bomb on me, Matteo must come to his senses, realizing how far into the past he delved and he slips out of the room without so much as another word. I’m left with a billion thoughts, a heart full of anger and tears still swimming in my eyes. Not just for his mother or his childhood, but the woman whose presence unsettled me today.