His Tesoro: An Arranged Marriage Age Gap Mafia Romance (Empire of Royals Book 1)
His Tesoro: Chapter 31

I grinned as the door shut behind Matteo. My husband might pretend to be cold and distant, but I could still feel the ghost of his touch against my skin. It made me crave more… more than friendship. I wanted it all, and I was starting to think it might even be possible.

I finished up breakfast and got ready. I wanted to try a new hairstyle—a crown braid. Mila and I used to spend hours doing each other’s hair to pass the time. I had to take lots of breaks because my shoulders were hurting, but I thought the braid turned out really cute.

I swapped my wheelchair for my rollator and headed back to the kitchen, flipping through some recipes I’d saved on my phone. I couldn’t figure out what I wanted to make, and the silence of the apartment felt too loud. I headed to the front door and peeked out to replace Angelo at his post.

“Good morning, bella. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I was just—” I hesitated. Was I being needy and stupid?

He raised his eyebrows.

“Do you want to come inside?”

Now it was time for him to look unsure. Was it because he didn’t want to, or because he wasn’t supposed to? It was bleak if he truly preferred to stand in an empty foyer for hours than spend time with me.

“You can guard me more easily from inside, right?”

He huffed a smile. “I guess that’s true. I’ll come for a little while, if that’s what you want.”

I beamed at him, opening the door wider so he could fit his large frame through.

“I was going to bake something. Do you think Matteo would like traditional cannolis the best? Probably, right? I had this idea for cannoli cupcakes that I thought would be super cute,” I mused.

Angelo chuckled. “I’m not sure the Boss is much for desserts.”

I smiled to myself. It seemed my husband hid his love for sweets from everyone but me. The day after our movie night, I’d woken up to replace the popcorn bowl empty. At first I thought Matteo must have thrown out the caramel corn, but it wasn’t in the trash. I had a sneaking suspicion that my husband had eaten it all.

“He seems to like the things I make.”

“I’m sure he does,” Angelo said, giving me a knowing look.

I got started making cannoli filling while Angelo picked out some music, and I eventually drew him into a game of “would you rather.”

“Why the fuck would you rather be stuck on some alien planet than meet Bigfoot?” Angelo asked.

“I said I would only choose it if they were sexy aliens.”

“Sexy aliens?”

“Read a book, Angelo. Alien romance is very big.”

He rolled his eyes and stole another finished cannoli from the counter. Just then, the apartment door opened and I heard the sound of pattering feet before a dog popped its head around the corner. It was a beautiful golden retriever with bright eyes and a wagging tail. And he was wearing a service dog vest.

“Oh, hello.” I said as the dog walked over to me and laid its head on my lap. “Where did you come from?”

Matteo strode into the kitchen. “I see you’ve met Noodle.”

I gave Matteo a bewildered expression. “Noodle?”

“They said we couldn’t change his name,” he said, sounding put-out. “But he was the best they had. Passed all his tests.”

I looked back down at Noodle’s service dog vest. “Are you saying…” I trailed off, not wanting to speak the words out loud in case I was mistaken.

“This is your service dog.”

My lips parted. “You got me a service dog.”

Matteo crossed his arms. “Yes.”

My husband looked as stern as ever, but inside my heart was melting. “What? Why?”

“Getting a dog was on your list, and I figured you might as well get one that’s useful.”

A lump rose in my throat. I’d only known Matteo for a few weeks and he had already shown more of an interest in my needs and making my life easier than anyone in the world, besides my sister.

“Help me up,” I said, extending my arms out to him.

“What?”

“Help me get up,” I repeated.

“Why?” He grumbled, but did what I asked, lifting me from my wheelchair. My feet barely skimmed the ground and I was firmly plastered against his body.

“Because I wanted to say thank you,” I murmured. I ran my fingers through his hair, savoring how soft the strands were. His jaw was clenched tight, and if I hadn’t been observing my husband so closely these past few days, I would have thought he was angry with me.

But I knew better now.

I trailed my hands down his face before cupping his jaw and pulling him closer. Before I could second-guess myself, my lips were against his. At first, he was unmoving, a frozen statue as I kissed him. A thread of insecurity wound its way around my chest. He didn’t want to kiss me. Didn’t want me.

I went to pull away, but then he growled and pressed my back against the wall. His lips were soft and firm all at once, his tongue demanding entry into my mouth. I moaned at the taste of him, at the feel of his control and dominance. His knee slipped between my legs, pressing against my sex, and I inhaled sharply.

A cold, wet nose nudged at my leg, and I broke the kiss with a laugh. “I think Noodle is jealous.”

Matteo grumbled, but there was a lightness to his eyes. I looked around and realized that Angelo must have slipped out at some point. Matteo carried me to the couch and gently sat me down, but he remained standing. I called Noodle over and patted the cushion beside me. He wasted no time hopping up next to me and cuddling up to my side.

“Is he supposed to be on the couch?” Matteo asked, frowning.

“You’re going to say no to this face?” I squished Noodle’s cheeks between my hands and we both stared at Matteo with big, sad eyes.

“Fuck,” he muttered, running his hand through his hair.

I pressed my grin into Noodle’s soft fur. “What is he trained to do?”

“The dog people are coming tomorrow to work with both of you together,” he said. “But he can get you things like your medication bag, open doors, help you balance, and get help if you need it. I asked about attack dog training, but they said he had none. We’ll have to rectify that.”

I gasped. “You are not teaching Noodle to attack people.” The dog in question wagged his tail, his tongue lolling out of his mouth as he looked between the two of us.

Matteo ran his hand down his face. “Not with that fucking name I can’t.”

I grinned. “Noodle is perfect the way he is.” I ran my hand down his soft coat and Noodle leaned in to my touch, looking blissful. “Aren’t you the best boy? My sweet little baby.”

“He’s not your baby,” Matteo said, crossing his arms. “He’s an employee.”

I snorted as Noodle lay his head in my lap. “I think someone is jealous,” I whispered conspiratorially as I stroked his soft fur.

“I’m not jealous of a dog.”

I held my hand out to my husband. His brow furrowed in confusion, but he took it, and I pulled him down beside me. He sat with a huff, unbuttoning his suit jacket. I held my breath as I rested my head against his shoulder, ready for him to pull away at any moment. But he didn’t. He just shifted on the couch cushion and put his arm around me.

I closed my eyes and thought I could get used to this—being held and cuddled. After years of only ever feeling Mila’s touch, I was starved for it, desperate to soak up any comfort I could get.