MATTEO (Dance with the Devil 1)

by Carole Mortimer

  “This estate and house are impressive for the middle of London,” Leon Brunelli commented as he entered the comfort of Matteo’s study. The arrangements for this meeting had been the reason for Leon’s urgent telephone call to Matteo the night before.

  Matteo had assumed this was a business meeting to discuss their very positive conversation yesterday afternoon with Gregori Markovic and Nikolai Volkov. But he wasn’t so sure when he saw Leon was dressed more casually than Matteo had ever seen before, in a navy blue T-shirt, dark blue leather jacket, black jeans, and biker boots.

  Matteo was relieved now that he was also dressed in faded denims and a pale blue shirt and had chosen to meet with the other man in the comfort of his study. To add to the informality, there were photographs of Matteo’s parents and sister, some including Matteo, dotted about the comfortable room on the bookcases lining one wall and along the windowsill. The photographs of Bella, having once been put away in an effort to convince Matteo’s blackmailer that she meant nothing to him, had now been returned to their correct place of honor beside their parents.

  Matteo relaxed in his high-back black leather seat. “I did invite you to stay here rather than a hotel, if you remember,” he reminded. Although he was relieved now that the older man had decided he preferred to stay at a hotel in the heart of the city. Matteo certainly had no explanation—not one he would like to have given Leon, in any case—for his absence from the estate the evening before.

  Leon sat in the leather chair opposite before looking across the desk at Matteo with enigmatic icy-gray eyes. “The hotel was a good decision on my part, it would seem.”

  Matteo instantly tensed. “What do you mean?”

  The other man gave a smile that came nowhere near reaching those pale gray eyes. “Things would now be rather awkward otherwise,” he drawled.

  Matteo’s inner wariness deepened, although he hoped his expression remained outwardly pleasant. “Natalia still hasn’t told you when she’ll be arriving from Europe?”

  Leon rested the ankle of one leg on the knee of the other, also giving every outer appearance of being relaxed. “I am not here to talk about when or if Natalia will arrive in London.”

  “If?”

  “If.”

  Matteo breathed out an impatient sigh. “Leon, if you have something to say to me, then just fucking say it.”

  The older man continued to look at him for several long and tense seconds before reaching into the breast pocket of his leather jacket. “What’s the saying? A picture is worth a thousand words? Or, in these days of instant technology, a video,” he derided as he pulled out his cell phone and switched it on before holding it out across the desk so that Matteo could see the lit screen.

  The other man’s expression of contempt and the grunts and groans coming from the video were such that Matteo didn’t need to look at the screen to know what was on there.

  It was him and Grace as Matteo fucked her up against the wall yesterday evening at the back of the bookstore.

  He couldn’t stop himself from looking anyway. The image was taken from some distance away, was all dark shadows, the only light given off from the street lamp down the alley. But there was no mistaking that Matteo was the man thrusting his hips between the thighs of the woman whose legs were wrapped about his waist and her face buried against his shoulder. Or the sounds of their mutual pleasure when they both reached a climax.

  The urgent call from Leon had come through immediately after he and Grace had separated and straightened their clothing, which meant— “You’ve been having me followed.” It was a statement, not a question. Matteo knew without a single doubt that neither Luca nor Antonio would ever have betrayed him by taking such a damning video, let alone pass it along to Brunelli.

  “You were about to marry my only child. Of course I had you followed,” the older man snapped as he switched off the video and returned the cell phone to his pocket.

  “Were?” Matteo prompted warily.

  Leon’s expression was glacial. “I require loyalty from my men and business associates. I believe I have the right to ask for that same consideration from my future son-in-law.” His jaw tightened. “But I demand fidelity for my daughter from her husband.”

  Matteo could see the alliance with New York slipping through his fingers, even though Gregori Markovic had assured him his alliance with him would stand.

  Maybe he should have thought of that before inviting Grace to his sister’s wedding and dancing the tango with her before then seeking her out again just days later. He should certainly not have made love to her against a wall where anyone might—and did—see them together.

  And yet… Matteo knew he would do it all again just to spend those few precious hours with Grace.

  “Who is she?” Leon demanded.

  “Who she is isn’t important.”

  “You considered her important enough to endanger our alliance!”

  Matteo stood to move out from behind the desk and begin pacing the room. “I can apologize for that till the end of time,” he finally spoke. “But ultimately, I can’t undo what’s already happened.”

  “Your engagement to Natalia has not yet been announced, nor will it be until you can confirm this madness with this other woman has ceased.”

  Matteo drew in a sharp breath. Could he promise that with any degree of honesty when his feelings for Grace were embedded so deep inside him? She was like a drug to him. Had become an obsession. Was he capable of resisting seeing her again? Being with her again?

  “I suggest you take the time to think about what you will be giving up before answering me,” Leon snapped as he obviously saw Matteo’s hesitation. “This is a woman you desire right now, but our alliance, and the one with the Russians, will build a better and stronger future for all our organizations. Are you willing to throw that all away on a whim?”

  In the bigger picture, Matteo knew what Leon said was the truth. But he also knew to doubt his willpower where seeing and being with Grace again was concerned.

  But the same couldn’t be said of Grace. She had said goodbye to him last night. Not good night, but goodbye, and in a tone of unmistakable finality.

  Maybe he couldn’t promise Leon never to see Grace again, but he knew that Grace had no intention of seeing him.

  That didn’t change the fact that Grace was the woman Matteo was in love with. Which meant his marrying Natalia Brunelli would be completely unfair to her, whether or not he ever saw Grace again.

  Matteo leaned back against the front of his desk. “Leon, there’s no reason why our business alliance can’t continue without my engagement and marriage with Natalia.”

  The older man looked at him coldly. “You have until tomorrow to give me your answer.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t push me on this, Matteo,” Leon warned. “You will marry Natalia and promise to make her a good and faithful husband, or the unity of our two organizations is over.”

  Matteo gave an exasperated frown. “Why would you want your daughter to marry someone you know is involved with another woman?”

  “You will not be involved with this other woman by the time you marry Natalia. Or after.” The warning in Leon’s voice was very clear.

  “I—”

  “Tomorrow, Matteo,” Leon repeated in a hard and uncompromising tone. “I hope, for your sake, you make the right choice.” He turned on his heel and left.

  Matteo stood at his study window to watch as Leon climbed into the back of and was then driven away in a dark SUV. The tinted windows made it impossible for him to see inside the vehicle.

  But he didn’t need to see Leon’s face again to know the other man had meant every word he said.

  Matteo either gave his word not to see or speak to Grace ever again, or the Zalotti family alliance with the powerful Mafia don of New York was over.

  “Are you feeling unwell?”

  “Sorry?” Grace looked at Carla over the top of her computer screen, where she had been wor
king on her next order from one of the main publishers.

  The other woman shook her head. “You really don’t seem yourself at the moment.”

  She gave a shake of her head. “You’ve hardly seen me this morning.” She had been working on this order in her office for three hours now and still hadn’t got it right.

  The fact she was very aware that Matteo had once bent her over this desk before making love to her wasn’t helping her concentration.

  “Exactly.” Carla nodded. “Usually, you avoid doing the paperwork until after we’re closed, but today, you’ve shut yourself away in here for hours. You’re also pale,” the other woman continued firmly. “And there are dark circles under your eyes from where I’m guessing you aren’t sleeping.”

  Grace smiled ruefully. “Your talents are wasted as my assistant manager when you have these amazing powers of deduction!”

  “Ha-ha, very funny.” Carla perched her bottom on the side of the desk. “Have you seen Matteo Zalotti again?”

  Seen Matteo? A day and a half later, and Grace could still feel the stretch and pleasure from where his cock had thrust so forcefully into her channel!

  And Carla’s observations were right. Grace hadn’t been able to sleep the past two nights. She’d tried everything, a bath to relax her, a cup of chocolate, even allowed Mr. Darcy to sleep on the bottom of her bed for company. None of it had worked. She had still lain awake hour after hour until dawn broke, at which time she’d fallen into a fitful sleep until her alarm went off an hour or so later. Not only was she exhausted, she was heartsick. And deeply in love with a man she couldn’t have.

  “I saw him again on Saturday evening,” she answered Carla, knowing there was absolutely no way she could admit to the wild passion of that meeting with Matteo. Grace inwardly groaned every time she thought of the two of them becoming so completely lost in each other that anyone could have walked along that alley at the back of the store and seen them together.

  Carla studied her. “You really like him, don’t you?”

  She winced. “I’m not sure I’d call it that.”

  Carla tilted her head. “Then what would you call it?”

  Inwardly, Grace knew exactly how she felt about Matteo, but perhaps it wouldn’t hurt so much if she didn’t say it out loud. “He’s…hard to resist,” she acknowledged self-derisively.

  “I can imagine,” Carla acknowledged. “I spoke to Uncle Vinnie after church yesterday, and he says Matteo Zalotti is a good employer.”

  “For the head of the London Mafia!” The fact that Uncle Vinnie went to church didn’t make him a good man either.

  “Yeah.” Carla grimaced. “Apparently, he’s in some sort of business talks with another Mafia guy from New York and the Russians.”

  Grace remembered the two Russians from Bella and Bryce’s wedding, but she hadn’t met another Mafia don. “Are you supposed to be telling me stuff like this?”

  The other woman shrugged. “Uncle Vinnie didn’t say it was top secret.”

  “I’m sure your Uncle Vinnie thought he could trust in your discretion.”

  “The thing is.” Carla winced as she lingered on the other side of the desk. “The guy from New York isn’t only one of the top dogs, he’s also going to be Matteo Zalotti’s father-in-law.”

  “What?” Grace felt the blood in her veins turn to ice. All this time, Matteo was engaged to marry another woman? Through all those intimacies he’d shared or taken from her, Matteo had known he was going to marry someone else?

  Why was she so surprised? Men like Matteo, powerful and ruthless men who could order death and destruction and knew it would happen with very little effort from them, wouldn’t feel any qualms at all about forgetting a little thing like being engaged when they saw another woman they wanted. And there was no doubting that Matteo had wanted her.

  “Apparently, it’s an arranged engagement, the uniting of two powerful families,” Carla rushed on. “But I thought, if the two of you are still seeing each other, that you had a right to know what a bastard he is before he comes round here again trying to sweet-talk himself into your panties with bouquets of flowers.”

  Grace’s frown was pained. “She wasn’t at his sister’s wedding with him.”

  Carla, bless her, didn’t question how Grace knew that. “Apparently, his fiancée is in Europe at the moment. Probably shopping for her own trousseau. See, definitely a bastard!” Carla added disgustedly.

  Grace looked past her own shock, and the gut-wrenching disappointment and anger she felt toward Matteo, to realize from the pallor of Carla’s face that the other woman had obviously been tying herself up in knots all morning trying to decide if she should tell Grace about Matteo’s engagement or not. Luckily, friendship had won out in the end.

  She stood to move round the desk to squeeze Carla’s arm in reassurance. “I appreciate this wasn’t an easy thing for you to tell me.”

  Carla released a heavy sigh. “Why are men such selfish bastards?”

  Grace smiled without humor. “I think it’s programmed into their DNA.”

  Carla snorted. “Well, I’m concentrating on my career in future. No man is ever going to make a fool of me again with false declarations of love.”

  Grace hadn’t known Carla well a year ago, but she knew Carla had been engaged then but had broken off the relationship when she went home from work early one afternoon and found her boyfriend in their bed with another woman.

  Carla had confided this to Grace one morning during their coffee break. To add insult to injury, Carla said, she’d had no choice but to throw out her thousand-count cotton bedsheets!

  Grace knew that Carla had been trying to make light of the trauma with that last comment, but it was also another reason why it must have been hard for the other woman to tell Grace about Matteo’s duplicity. Especially when Grace was the “other woman” in this scenario.

  “I’m sure they’ll make you manager of your own store soon,” she told Carla confidently. She certainly deserved the promotion.

  “I’m feeling sort of divided about that at the moment.” Carla grimaced. “On the one hand, it would be great to move up the career ladder, but on the other, I’ve really enjoyed working here since you took over as manager.”

  Grace knew that her predecessor had been something of a martinet, which, to her mind, didn’t fit in with the warmth, comfort, and distraction a bookstore should offer.

  But at least the change of subject had diverted the other woman from Matteo Zalotti.

  Grace’s own thoughts on the man were censored and caused her hands to clench into fists she wanted to use to hit Matteo on his perfect, arrogant nose.

  “I think I’ll take first lunchbreak, if that’s okay.” The fresh air might help to clear her head, and her heart, of the two-timing Matteo Zalotti.

  Which was what stepping out into the weak November sunshine in the alley at the back of the shop should have done, but the moment Grace turned to close the door behind her, something was thrown over her head, confining her in complete darkness. Her hands were twisted behind her back before she was lifted off her feet and carried, kicking and screaming, then lifted and thrown into what she could only assume, from the soft thrum of an engine turning over, was the luggage area of an SUV. Her suspicion was confirmed when she felt the movement of the vehicle as they drove away from the bookstore.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “What is it, Vinnie?” Matteo smiled across his desk at one of his foot soldiers, a man he knew had remained loyal to him during the years of Ricci’s despotic rule. Anyone who hadn’t been loyal was now reduced to ashes, like the man who had blackmailed Matteo for so many years.

  Vinnie looked decidedly uncomfortable as he shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other. “This is a little unorthodox but…well, my niece arrived at the estate a short time ago, and she refuses to leave until she’s spoken to you.” He winced. “She can be a little forceful.”

  Considering Vinnie currently looked pussy whipped, Matt
eo believe him. “I don’t have a problem with seeing her,” he assured. In fact, he would welcome the distraction from his torturous thoughts of promising Brunelli he wouldn’t see Grace again. He wasn’t sure he could do it. “Do you know what it’s about?”

  Vinnie’s flushed face creased into a frown. “She said if you refused to see her, I should mention the name Grace.”

  Matteo rose abruptly to his feet to look across at Luca. “Bring her in here. Now,” he added tensely when his bodyguard didn’t move quickly enough for him. Matteo immediately recognized the tall and dark-haired woman who was shown into his office seconds later. “You work in the bookstore with Grace.”

  She looked at him sneeringly. “Which is why you’re going to tell me where she is.”

  “Carla!” Vinnie hissed in warning.

  She glared at her uncle. “He’s responsible for abducting a friend of mine.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Did you say Grace has been abducted?” Matteo cut harshly into the exchange, his heart pounding and his palms damp as he clenched his hands at his sides.

  “As if you didn’t know that!” Carla scorned. “But you can’t disappear a woman in broad daylight without someone seeing it. There are several homeless people who, during the day, troll the bins of the café farther along from the bookstore. When Grace didn’t return from her lunchbreak, I spoke to one of them, and he told me he’d seen two men wearing black suits in the alley an hour or so earlier. One of them threw a black bag over the head of a red-haired woman and the other one twisted her arms behind her back and secured them before putting her in the back of a dark vehicle and driving off.”

  Matteo was having so much trouble breathing, he felt as if he was on the brink of hyperventilating. Which wasn’t going to help anyone, least of all Grace.

  “It wasn’t me,” he bit out.

  “Of course it was you!” Carla scoffed. “Nothing like this ever happened to Grace till you came along.”

  He winced at the accusation. “It wasn’t me,” he repeated. “But I have a good idea who it was,” he added grimly.