This was the criminal who took what he wanted without remorse. His face came into my space, staring at me and our breaths mingled. He shoved one knee high, keeping it positioned with his hand on the back of my thigh.
And then he fucked me.
Brutally.
Until I sobbed beneath him, and I would have sworn I would feel him imprinted inside me for the rest of my life. "Teo, please," I whimpered.
His lips crashed to mine, ending my halfhearted protest. Even as I feared the man staring back at me as he ravaged me, an orgasm built between my thighs. I tried to reach for it, wanted it to wash away the taste of pain Matteo gave as he slid in and out of my tender pussy.
He pulled his mouth away, glaring down at me. He pressed his thumb to my clit, but didn't move it, just tormented me with the promise of what could be. "Tell me," he growled.
"Tell you what?" I whimpered. "Teo, please."
"Tell me you're mine."
"I'm yours!" I shrieked, willing to admit just about anything in that moment.
"Tell me you love me." I froze, staring up at him in horror. "Tell me, Cara mia." His face softened, something in the beast receding as he stared in the face of my panic. "Tell me," he pressed.
"I love you," I cried, tears falling from my eyes to tickle my ears. "I never stopped," I admitted and hated myself for it. His thumb made a single circle around my clit, and I erupted beneath him to the sound of his arrogance.
"I know," he murmured, and after a few more slow, languid thrusts he flooded me with his heat.
Even after we both caught our breath, Matteo made no move to separate from me, pressing his chest against mine and cradling me.
It was like he knew my foundation had been rocked.
That he'd changed my world with three little words.
I just hoped they weren't lies.
Twenty-Five
Ivory
The smells from the kitchen made even my nose tingle with excitement.
The Ragu Napoletano was something I'd made occasionally, but never for a true Italian like Matteo.
Arms wrapped around my waist, Matteo's face nuzzling into the crook of my neck. "That smells delicious," he murmured, nipping at my skin softly. "But not as good as you."
I swatted him away playfully. "Get out!" I giggled when the scruff on his face tickled my jaw. "I mean it! You'll make me overcook the Strozzapretti."
"So make more." He shrugged, his shoulders jostling me as if he truly didn't care.
"Are you insane? No. Be gone, you slut."
"Your slut," he smirked, and one of his hands took mine in his. He turned me to face him, staring down at me intently in a way that scared me.
"Is everything okay?" I asked, biting my lip. His free hand left my waist, darting into his pocket. The thumb of the hand that held mine captive stroked over my left ring finger as he stared at it in fixation.
The smile he gave me when our eyes met again was breathtaking. A full, disarming smile that stole the air from my lungs. He held my eyes with his, and the cool touch of metal against the skin of my finger made my body freeze.
"What—what is that?" I asked, eyes darting down to the huge teardrop shaped diamond settled around my finger in two intricate, diamond studded bands of rose gold.
"Pick a date. I want to know by tomorrow."
"I—what?" I asked, feeling like my jaw was on the floor.
"A date, Angel," he chuckled. "I'd prefer a summer wedding, so we need to make arrangements quickly."
"A year is plenty of time—" I started to explain, because I had no need for a big wedding.
Wedding.
"You misunderstand me, Cara mia. I'm not waiting until next year to make you my wife."
"But it's already the end of May!"
"As I said, pick a date." He gave me that beautiful smile again, and I almost wanted to smack him for the way he enjoyed my floundering.
"You can't just put a ring on my finger, you know? You didn't even ask me if I would marry you!" I argued, shrinking back into the counter as much as I could.
"Asking would imply you have a choice." He smirked, giving me a glimpse of that dark possessiveness that always seemed to linger beneath the surface.
"Matteo," I warned. "I think we should slow down."
"I'll not waste another moment of my life without you as my wife, Ivory. Pick a fucking date," he growled, and I winced. With a sigh, I nodded. I was learning. Maybe I wasn't the fastest learner, but I knew well enough to know when to push and when not to. This was clearly one of those moments I shouldn't touch.
He smiled again, pleased with my concession. "Thank you. Don't overcook the Strozzapreti," he said, turning and striding back to his office like he hadn't turned my world on its head again.
Like marrying me had always been a foregone conclusion, and I suppose for Matteo it had. After all, he didn't care if I said no.
We were getting married.
His wife.
Ivory Bellandi.
Fuck.
Twenty-Six
Ivory
"Where are we going?" I grinned at Matteo as he swerved the Aston through the highway traffic just outside the city. We'd spent a few days in bliss, ignoring the world and getting lost in each other whenever we could manage. Matteo still worked, I had a feeling that would never change, but I'd finally set foot in his office long enough to work from the couch.
Offices no longer seemed terrifying.
Was he perfect?
Absolutely not.
He was dominating, controlling. He manipulated me to get his way and forced my hand when I didn't do something he wanted, but I realized that everything he'd done was to protect me.
Could I really be angry that he loved me enough to keep me safe?
He was all I'd never dared to dream for.
I didn't want to waste any more time.
He eyes met mine across the center console, his hand tightening around mine briefly. He glanced at an exit sign before moving into the right lane to take it. "Don't freak out."
I froze solid. "Why would I freak out? What did you do?" I'd only just come to terms with the last time; I did not need a new thing to be pissed about.
"We're going to my uncle's house for dinner," he admitted, and everything inside me tightened. I'd never met his uncle before, but I'd caught snippets of information from conversations Matteo and Lino had. I knew enough to know he wasn't a kind man.
"Say what now?" I asked, turning to him and feeling my eyes harden when he glanced at me in amusement.
"You had to meet him sometime, Angel," he laughed.
I glared at the corner of his eye, that spot where just the faintest trace of crow's feet were forming on his face. Even the tiny trace of aging only emphasized his dangerous features. "You're right. I probably did," I agreed, and the relief in his face was comical. He seriously thought he was off the hook. "But not today! Not without knowing what's coming. You blindsided me, you asshole!"
He barked out a sharp laugh, reveling in my growing comfort with him. In Matteo's words, it often grew boring having people just do what he said all the time.
I was anything but boring.
"Can you blame me?" he asked.
"Why was this necessary? Now I'm panicking!" I groaned, tearing my hand out of his grip.
"Which is exactly why I didn't tell you until we were almost there. I didn't want you fretting all day when you could be happy with me."
"That's almost sweet," I admitted. "But mostly selfish I think."
"It was completely selfish," he consented with a rogue grin. I smacked his arm, trying not to think about the time before we'd left the house where he'd ambushed me in the shower.
Where I'd gone to wash the sex off me.
That had been an exercise in futility.
"What if he hates me?" I whispered, and Matteo winced.
"He won't be your biggest fan," he returned, and I groaned.
"Why?"
"You aren't Italian. He wants me to marry a frien
d's daughter, and he thinks—" Teo paused, thinking over his words, and I knew the next statement would be about whatever his secret business enterprises entailed. "He thinks love is a weakness. That I should marry someone I'm prepared to lose one day."
I widened my eyes at him as he turned down a long driveway. "What's the point?"
"To have children." He shrugged. "That's the entire point of marriage to my uncle, after Lino's mom died, anyway."
"What happened to her?" Lino never talked about her. I hadn't known for sure she'd died but had guessed as much.
"There was an accident. Men targeting my uncle ran them off the road. He lived, she didn't."
"God, Teo," I whispered, horror rolling through me. "What are you involved in?"
He didn't answer, pulling up to the security gate in front of an estate slightly smaller than Matteo's. The driveway wasn't as long, not as winding, and the house itself was boxier than the sprawling structure that Matteo lived in.
But whatever the family business was, Matteo's uncle benefited from it greatly.
"Go on through, Mr. Bellandi," the guard said when Matteo rolled down the window, and the Aston rolled through the gate as it opened.
"Breathe," he chuckled. "My uncle not liking you has nothing to do with you. Being sweet won't change his opinion. Looking your best won't change his mind. And I don't give the first fuck what he thinks of you, because I choose you. That's all that matters." We pulled up in front of the house, and something unwound inside me. There was a lot less pressure when I knew his dislike of me was already a foregone conclusion. "I won't let him disrespect you."
"Okay," I whispered. Matteo turned to me, inspecting me. Satisfied with whatever he saw, he climbed out of the car. Regardless of what Matteo said, I was grateful I lived in dresses. My sky-blue wrap dress was timeless and classy, and probably the one thing I might have contemplated wearing to meet Matteo's uncle, anyway.
With both his parents gone, the disapproving Uncle was the closest thing to parents he had left. Lino liked me, I thought. So, there was just the Uncle left to sway. Maybe he'd come around eventually, right?
I couldn't imagine spending my life with a man, to have half his family hate me for the entirety of our time together. "About me being your wife," I started as soon as he opened the car door for me. He pulled me out, tucking the hair behind my ear on one side.
"Mhm," he murmured, shutting the car door with a soft thud.
"I don't want to be a problem for your family. You don't have to feel obligated to make me promises, Teo. Not every relationship is built to last, maybe—"
"Don't," he hissed, the hand that closed the door staying planted firmly so he trapped me against the car. "Nobody obligates me to do anything. Ever."
"But maybe this is better off as a short-term relationship. We don't have to muddy it up with things like divorce and kids—"
"There will never be a divorce," he grunted, grasping my hand in his and tugging me away from the car. "I will only marry once, Ivory."
"So, let it be with someone—"
"Enough." His voice was a whisper, but the warning was clear. I didn't even know why I bothered to argue with the man sometimes. So stuck in his own way that he'd never consider when someone else offered him a viable option.
"Okay," I whispered back, knowing fully well I'd resume the conversation another time.
I plastered an easy smile on my face, determined to make the best impression despite whatever Matteo's uncle might think of me. Matteo knocked on the door, as cool as ever, and I snuggled into his side. The last thing I wanted when his uncle formed his opinion of me firsthand was for Matteo to be distant because I'd pissed him off. A bit of his coolness melted as he grasped me around the waist and smiled down at me momentarily, but I knew the rest of his attitude wouldn't change. He was in work mode, the same calculated way he behaved the moment he set foot in his office or when talking with one of his guys who he didn't trust as much.
At first, the persona had terrified me, especially combined with my residual hatred of his office itself. But after being around him in that mode more often, I was insanely attracted to it. The dark waves of dominance that poured off him appealed to something in me, the part of me who had floundered on her own and worked to find herself loved the comfort in which Matteo just was who he was.
When a middle-aged Italian woman answered the door, she nodded to Matteo respectfully before turning surprised eyes to me. "Mr. Bellandi. We weren't aware you were bringing a guest." Panic crossed over her features, and Matteo continued as if he wasn't bothered by it. Stepping into the house like he belonged, he dragged me with him. The woman's eyes darted toward the living room, and voices sounded from the space. Matteo's eyes narrowed at the sound of a woman's tinkle of laughter.
"What did he do?" Matteo growled, clasping me tighter around the waist.
"He invited Mr. Morelli and his daughter," she whispered, eyes clenched. Her tension racketed up my own until I gasped when Matteo used the hand at my waist to guide me into the living room without preamble. Lino stood off to the side, totally and completely devoid of all the playfulness I was so used to seeing in him. His serious mask had been in place before we'd even entered the room, but it faded momentarily when he approached us.
"Ivory, sweetheart, you look beautiful as always," he said, pressing a kiss to my cheek affectionately. He and Matteo exchanged a look, and it was clear who Lino would side with when the battle lines were drawn. Judging from the disbelieving glare the three other occupants of the room leveled me with, I had to guess that moment was approaching.
Quickly.
"Matteo." His uncle grimaced. "What's this?"
"I could ask you the same thing, Gabriele. I'm fairly certain I made it very clear the last time we saw one another that I was not interested in your arrangement regarding Elena." I felt the wince that went through my body as my eyes met hers, knowing that the beauty on the couch with the big brown eyes was my competition as far as she was concerned.
She smiled, completely unconcerned with Matteo's dismissal. Whatever arrangement Matteo's Uncle Gabriele had in mind; love wasn't a part of it. She stood from her perch on the blue velvet sofa, crossing the distance between us to press her lips to Matteo's cheek in greeting. I fought to maintain my composure, knowing I needed to appear unconcerned with the beauty before me. If Matteo wanted her, he would have her, no doubt.
I didn't want to think about the fact that he could have already.
"It's always lovely to see you, Matteo," she practically purred. "Who is your friend?"
I bristled at the blatant dismissal, feeling murderous as she reached out a hand to touch his forearm in familiarity. I didn't understand how I'd gone from trying to shove a woman at him to feeling possessive, but I suspected it had something to do with the heavy, weighted ring sitting on my finger.
"Elena," Matteo said coolly. "This is my fiancé, Ivory."
Her eyes widened, and she turned her back to us momentarily to shoot a meaningful glare to Gabriele. "You assured me I would be his wife."
"You will be," the Uncle reassured her, ignoring the glare Matteo shot him. "She is merely a passing fancy. You know how men are."
"The ring on her finger tells a different story," she spat, eyes darting to my left hand where Matteo used it to drag me into his side. "Such a pity. Come daddy, I believe we've been misled enough for one day." The other man followed his daughter out the door.
"Lino, take Ivory into the dining room," Matteo said, and my eyes turned to him. I wanted to argue that my place was beside him, but the menace on his face communicated that this was exactly one of those moments where I just needed to get the Hell out of his way.
"Of course," Lino agreed, holding out an arm for me to take. I stepped away from Matteo, letting him guide me to the door at the back of the room.
"Not one more step, son," Gabriele snarled with a vicious bite that made me want to shrink into Lino for protection. "If she's so worthy of being your wife, then
she will need to get familiar with situations like this. Will she not?" he turned to Matteo.
"Don't you dare," Matteo returned, and his hand went behind his back.
Both men moved so suddenly that I couldn't possibly follow the movement. All I knew was one moment they glared at each other, the next they each had a gun in hand and pointed at the other. I gasped, and Lino cursed under his breath.
"She is a weakness. I should have gotten rid of her the first time she distracted you from what's important." He shifted his gun to the right, taking his aim off Matteo and leveling it on me where Lino guided me to the door.
I winced, feeling Lino shove me behind him so I wasn't staring down the barrel of the gun. "Killing her now would be a mercy compared to what they'll do to her to hurt you."
"She's not mama, father," Lino begged. "Matteo won't let anything happen to her."
"Put down your fucking gun before I kill you," Matteo threatened, and the quiet rage in his voice sent fear through me.
What the fuck had I gotten myself mixed up in?
Gabriele huffed. "You'd shoot your own uncle? For pussy?"
"I'd shoot you for calling her that. I'd make you suffer if you hurt her," Matteo growled. Gabriele lowered his gun, tossing it onto the coffee table and raising a hand as if he was no longer a threat.
I exhaled a sigh of relief, releasing the desperate grasp I had on the back of Lino's suit. I didn't even remember grabbing him, remembered nothing aside from the terror that I'd lose Matteo.
I couldn't lose him.
"She had better be fertile," his Uncle grimaced, staring down Matteo's fury. I had to admit, it took a brave man to push his luck in the face of all that was Matteo.
Matteo's features twisted, and the sound of the gun going off was deafening in the living room. My hands flew to my ears, covering them instinctively. "Fuck," Lino grunted, staring at where his father clutched his arm in agony.
"You fucking shot me."
"You ever threaten my woman again, and it will be far worse than a flesh wound. Come Ivory," Matteo demanded, and I rushed into his side. Even though I was terrified of the glimpse I'd gotten into that beast that lurked under the surface, I knew Matteo wouldn't hurt me.
Bloodied Hands: A Dark Mafia Romance (Bellandi Crime Syndicate Book 1) Page 18
