His Tesoro: An Arranged Marriage Age Gap Mafia Romance (Empire of Royals Book 1)
His Tesoro: Chapter 47

My stomach fluttered with anxiety. I squeezed Matteo’s hand tight, my eyes fixed on the lights illuminating the tree-lined road we were driving down. The capo’s house was about an hour outside of the city.

Matteo put his arm around me and pulled me as close to his side as my seatbelt would allow. “Why are you so nervous, tesoro?” His nose skimmed the side of my face, and he placed the whisper of a kiss against my cheek.

“It’s been a long time since I was out in public like this… at a party. Are you sure I belong here?”

Matteo pulled back enough for me to see his disapproving expression. “You belong by my side, wherever I am, and I’ll kill anyone who says otherwise.”

“I’m not sure murder would help the situation much.”

Matteo just grunted as if murder solved everything. I elbowed him in the ribs, exasperated.

“Hitting your Don. That deserves some punishment, Sofiya.” His stern tone mixed with his smirk and the way his hand crept up my thigh heated my insides.

I let out an involuntary whimper and Matteo chuckled, his breath ruffling my hair. His lips dipped to my ear, his words just for me. “Are you wet for me, tesoro? Do you want me to pet this needy little pussy?” His hold on my thigh tightened, heightening my arousal.

I eyed Enzo and Angelo, who were sitting up front, and Noodle, who was curled up at my feet, before giving my husband a small nod.

“Mmm.” He cupped my pussy through my dress. “Too bad we’re already here.”

I glanced out the window. We had come to a stop in front of a massive mansion. I whipped my head back to my husband. “But…”

Angelo and Enzo exited the car, leaving us alone.

Matteo grinned and gently kissed me. “I guess you’ll just have to be a good girl and wait until we get home.”

“No,” I whined.

He gripped my chin. “If you’re good for me, I’ll eat that sweet pussy when we get home. I’ll make you come on my tongue, fingers, and cock. But”—He ran his fingers through my hair and then gripped tight, tilting my head back to meet his hot gaze—“if you’re a naughty girl, I’ll spank you and fuck you, taking my own pleasure from your body without letting you come.”

I squirmed in my seat, pressing my thighs together with my soaked underwear tight against my core.

“There, that’s the expression I like seeing on my wife. Needy and begging, knowing she has to be a good girl and obey.”

I breathed in sharply. “You’re mean.”

He pulled my hair, causing my lips to part. “That’s right, tesoro. Mean and cruel and dangerous. Don’t forget it.” He gave me a hard, claiming kiss and then he was out of the car, rounding it to open my door.

Enzo had already gotten my wheelchair out, but Matteo was eyeing the steps leading into the mansion as if he was going to destroy them.

“I can walk if you help me,” I suggested.

Matteo ran his hand through his hair with a huff. “No, you won’t. I will carry you, and then have a discussion with Lombardi.”

“Miliy, you can’t be upset with your capos for not having wheelchair-accessible homes.”

His eyes flickered at the term of endearment. I hadn’t meant to say it, but it felt right as it slipped from my lips. It wasn’t a term I’d ever heard spoken in real life—my mother certainly wasn’t going to call the Pakhan darling—but I’d read it in one of the few Russian romance novels I’d had access to. I loved having a name that only I was allowed to use for my husband. It made me feel like he actually belonged to me.

Matteo’s arms framed the car door opening, his body caging me in. “You’re very free with your demands today, wife.”

I shrugged. “It’s because I’m brilliant and you should always listen to me.”

He ran his hand along his jaw and I knew he was trying not to smile. I took the opportunity to run my eyes down his body. Matteo stood tall and strong in his black suit, pure power radiating off of him.

He caught my wandering gaze and raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Just admiring my husband,” I said. “Either that or deciding if I’m going to kill him for leaving me unsatisfied.”

“I might be concerned about your threat if you didn’t sound like a fierce little kitten.”

I rolled my eyes. “I keep telling you I’m a great shot. I could probably destroy all your men easily in a shoot off.”

Matteo leaned down, brushing a lock of hair out of my face. “Whatever you say, tesoro. Now, let’s get this tedious party over with. We have a busy night ahead of us when we get home.”

My cheeks heated when Enzo gave a little cough, clearly having heard my husband’s words.

“Come on,” Matteo said. He maneuvered me out of the car and into his arms. I handed Noodle’s leash to Angelo.

“Maybe you should just stay in my arms all night.”

“Your arms will get tired.”

He jiggled me in his hold, making me laugh. “As if.”

I grinned, pressing my smile to his throat. He smelled so good, like leather and smoke and rain. “Have I mentioned that I like your beard?” I ran my fingers down his sharp, unshaved jaw.

“You might have.” Matteo took the steps up to the house with ease.

The heavy front door was flanked by four guards who all bent their heads when they saw Matteo, murmuring “Boss.” Matteo gave them a curt nod and then the butler opened the front door for us, revealing a foyer so opulent it hurt my eyes. Every surface was gilded in what seemed to be real gold, with massive framed oil paintings hanging from the walls.

“Umm… They definitely like gold,” I said.

Matteo snorted. “Feeling inspired to make over our apartment?”

“I’ve always said if you can view a room without sunglasses, you’re doing it wrong. What do you think, Angelo? There’s a distinct lack of gold in your apartment.”

Angelo hid his laugh with a choked cough as a short man in a black tux approached us.

“Don Rossi! Welcome to my home. We are honored to have you here. Everyone is gathering in the gardens.” The man—who I assumed was Riccardo Lombardi, one of the capos of the Five Families—glanced at how Matteo was holding me and then at my wheelchair in front of Enzo.

“Your house is not accessible by wheelchair,” Matteo said, by way of greeting. “Fix it.” He strode past Lombardi through the sitting room and out the open French doors leading to the yard. The setup out here was just as opulent as the interior—golden candlesticks on linen-covered tables, flower arrangements that must have cost thousands, and a crowd of elegantly dressed members of the Family.

My cheeks burned as everyone turned to take in our entrance. “Can you put me down?” I whispered. I was plenty embarrassed to be seen in a wheelchair, but being carried in Matteo’s arms was so much worse. In his arms, I was prominent and noticeable. In my chair, I became invisible.

Matteo must have heard the distress in my voice because he helped me get into my chair without argument. Still, he wore a disgruntled expression—one that I now understood to mean he was frustrated that he wasn’t holding me anymore, not angry with me.

“Come on,” he said, gripping my hand firmly. “I have to talk to people.”

“You sound as if you’d rather be tortured,” I said with a grin.

“He probably would,” Angelo said.

I snorted and took the dog leash from him. Noodle stayed close by my side as Matteo led me further into the courtyard.

The Made Men almost shoved each other out of the way in an effort to get to Matteo first, looking like peacocks as they puffed up their chests in an effort to be impressive. They all greeted me kindly enough, but their attention immediately returned to their Don.

After thirty minutes of listening to tedious conversations about shipping routes, weapons manufacturing, and drug running, I was overwhelmed and bored in equal measure. I couldn’t focus on what anyone was saying with all the noise, the bustle of people, and my fear of being judged. Noodle rested his head on my leg and the weight of it grounded me, but I had still reached my limit.

I tugged on Matteo’s hand. He immediately held up his hand to stop the man in front of him mid-sentence and turned his attention to me.

“What do you need, tesoro?” He leaned down and cupped my face.

“I’m going to go with Angelo and get a drink. Do you want anything?”

“Fuck,” he muttered. “I should have gotten you something when we got here.”

“You have important things to do.”

He scowled. “Nothing is more important than taking care of you.”

I smiled and ran my thumb up his furrowed brow. “You do take care of me, miliy. Now, do you want a drink?”

“You get one for yourself. I’ll join you soon.” He kissed me on the forehead before reluctantly turning back to the man in front of him, who was staring at our exchange with bewilderment.

Angelo and I headed to the outdoor bar. “Why did that man look so shocked?” I asked him.

“The Boss has never been seen with a woman all these years,” he said. “And they’ve certainly never seen him treat someone like he does you.”

My cheeks heated at how special his words made me feel. I gave Noodle a treat while I waited for Angelo to bring me a drink. A group of Mafia wives stood to the side of the garden with perfectly styled hair, elegant dresses, and expensive jewelry practically dripping off of them. When they caught me looking, they all quickly turned away. A squirming, uncomfortable feeling rose in my chest, but I forced myself to sit tall, trying to take my husband’s words to heart. I was a queen and belonged here just as much as they did.

“Where do you want to go?” Angelo asked, my drink in hand.

“How about there?” I pointed to a quiet spot at the edge of the lawn. Twinkle lights were strung above us in this part of the garden, making it feel almost cozy. We headed over there, my new wheelchair handling the terrain easily.

“I wonder if they’re worried my condition is contagious,” I quipped, nodding at the women who were sneaking looks at me.

“Ignore them, bella. If they were smart, they’d be all over you trying to gain your favor.”

I hummed, taking my drink from Angelo. I should be grateful they were keeping their distance. I didn’t have the energy for small talk tonight, but the feeling I’d had most of my life of always being unwanted and left out crept up my throat. I blinked and looked away from them.

Noodle moved his head back on my lap, as if sensing I needed some extra support. I stroked his head absentmindedly as I observed the crowd.

There were at least fifty people here. Most of the men were significantly older than Matteo, which filled me with a measure of pride at how young he was when he’d taken over as Don and how successful he’d been all these years. The atmosphere was lively with people drinking and laughing, but there was also an edge of tension I recognized from the Bratva gatherings I’d attended. The feeling that traitors and threats could be lurking in every corner.

“Shit,” Angelo said, looking at his watch. “Enzo needs backup inside the house.” Tension lined his jaw as he wavered, unsure of what to do.

“I’ll be fine here. I have Noodle and Matteo is just over there.”

He looked down at his watch again and cursed at whatever message Enzo had sent. “Do not move from this spot, Sofiya. I mean it.”

“I won’t,” I promised.

My guard gave me a curt nod and then strode quickly towards the French doors. Matteo caught his movement and looked over at me, his face like thunder. I gave him an awkward wave and thumbs up. He checked his watch, his expression growing tense.

I hoped everything was okay inside. It had to be something significant if Enzo needed backup.

I turned back to my drink, eyeing the maraschino cherries at the bottom. I was trying to discreetly fish them out when a gorgeous woman sat down beside me. I looked up, shocked that someone had approached me. Noodle wagged his tail, but stayed focused on me.

The woman looked to be in her twenties and had perfectly curled, fiery red hair and a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. She was wearing a tight-fitting green silk dress, and I felt momentarily envious of her thin figure and graceful movements.

“God, these parties are boring, aren’t they?” She turned in her chair to face me, a bright smile on her face. “I’m Leona.”

“Sofiya,” I responded.

“Oh, I know,” she said with a wink. “The mysterious Bratva princess who has stolen the Don’s heart.”

I blushed. “I’m not sure about that.”

“Oh, but I am.” Leona’s voice was sultry as she reached over and wrapped a curl of my hair around her finger. I stared into her dark eyes. Her presence was equally alluring and dangerous. “All these men think they’re so powerful, out here posturing with their guns and their cocks. It makes it easy for them to overlook us,” she continued.

I raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure anyone could overlook you.”

Leona chuckled as she leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. “That’s because you’re smart and observant. I am, too, which is why I know you wield the most power in this room. And all of them”—she gestured at the packed lawn of the men posturing in their suits—“are too blind to see it.”

“I’m not sure about that. I’ve spent most of my life feeling weak and invisible.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. In mere minutes, Leona had torn down my defenses. Or maybe I’d spent too many years alone that my defenses had grown as pathetic and vulnerable as me.

A feral smile split Leona’s face. She leaned in towards me until her face was close to mine. Her eyes flitted to my lips. “How dangerous you’ll be when you claim your power. I can’t wait to see it.”

My heart beat faster. I felt like I was pinned by a predator, and I didn’t know if she was about to kiss me or kill me.

“Leona.” Matteo’s enraged voice rang out, and I whipped my head up to take in my husband storming over in a cloud of rage.

“Don Rossi.” She leaned back in her chair, the picture of ease. “Nice to see you.”

“Give me one reason I shouldn’t kill you right here.” Matteo vibrated with cold anger as he angled his body in front of mine.

Leona snorted. “Fuck, that line was so predictable.” She peered around him to catch my gaze. “It was lovely to meet you, Sofiya. I’m sure our paths are destined to cross in the future.” She reached out as if to stroke my face, but Matteo caught her wrist. She let out a bright laugh, did some sort of move to release his hold, and melted away into the shadows at the edge of the yard.

Matteo moved as if to chase her, but I snagged his hand. He looked down at where our fingers were joined.

“You don’t need to do anything. She was just being nice.”

“Nice?” He ran his hand down his face. “I swear to God, Sofiya. How do you get into so much trouble everywhere you go? Leona Byrne is the top assassin in the Irish Mafia in Boston.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Seriously?”

Matteo sat down in the seat Leona had just vacated. “Yes, seriously. What am I going to do with you, tesoro? I should kill Angelo for leaving you alone.”

“There was something happening inside. I told him to go, so don’t get mad at him.”

My husband’s heated gaze made me squirm again. “You’re just racking up punishments.” He brought my hand to his lips and gently kissed it. “What were you two talking about?”

“She was just telling me I’m the most powerful person here,” I said with a grin.

“Well, she’s right about that,” Matteo muttered under his breath. “Come here. I need you close so I don’t go inside and murder your bodyguard.”

He pulled me out of my chair and into his lap. I snuggled into him, soaking up his scent and his warmth. “Don’t you have more people to talk to?”

“They can wait.” He kissed my forehead.

A tense hush had fallen over the crowd, everyone trying to catch glimpses of their Don’s unusual behavior. “Isn’t this going to tarnish your image? Make you seem less intimidating?”

Matteo tightened his hold on me as I tried to sit up. I didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize the authority he’d worked so hard for.

“I didn’t give you permission to move, Sofiya.”

My fingers tightened their hold on his jacket as arousal shot through me.

“I’ll be more than happy to show anyone here who thinks I’m less powerful because I adore my queen the error of their ways.” The words were delivered as a low threat, and it sent another shiver through me.

Movement caught my eye as Angelo and Enzo strode towards us. I wrapped my hand around the back of Matteo’s neck. “You can’t kill them.”

“I’m the Don. I can do what I like,” was his only response. I let out a long sigh, glad I was on his lap so he couldn’t easily attack my guards.

“Boss, I—” Angelo started.

Matteo held up his hand, silencing him. “You and me, in the ring tomorrow.”

Angelo gave him a curt nod before turning his gaze on me. “Are you alright, Mrs. Rossi?”

“Matteo’s the one who’s mad at you, not me, so cut it with the Mrs. Rossi crap,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I’m perfectly fine. My husband is irritated because I had a perfectly lovely conversation with an Irish assassin.”

Angelo’s jaw clenched. “Leona Byrne?”

Matteo nodded.

“Shit,” Enzo said.

“Leona isn’t an Irish name, is it?” I asked.

“It’s Italian,” Matteo said. “Her mother was the daughter of one of our capos. She ran away to be with the second-in-command in the Boston Mafia—Leona’s father. Leona claims her Italian heritage only when convenient. Have Franco look into what she’s doing in my city, and ask him why the fuck we didn’t know she was here.”

Romeo lifted his chin in assent before pulling out his phone.

“What was going on inside?” I asked Angelo.

“Apparently, Lombardi’s daughter isn’t thrilled with her fiance,” he said with a grimace.

“What do you mean?”

“She’s in love with one of Riccardo’s foot soldiers, or at least that’s what I gathered when he showed up to try to claim her,” Angelo said.

I turned to Matteo. “Her father can’t force her to marry her fiance if she’s in love with someone else.” I could hear how ridiculous my words sounded as I sat on the lap of the husband I never would have chosen, but now would never give up.

“He’s her father, tesoro. It’s the way things are.”

“It’s not fair,” I said quietly.

Matteo ran his hand through my hair.

“Can you at least make sure nothing happens to the other guy? The soldier?”

“He insulted his capo,” Matteo said.

I cupped his face and stared into his dark eyes. “Please. He doesn’t deserve to die because he loves her.”

Matteo sighed before turning to Romeo. “See that it’s done.”

“Yes, Boss,” Romeo said before he headed inside.

“Time to go,” Matteo said. He kept me in his arms, holding me tight as he strode out of the party, ignoring everyone who tried to get his attention. Angelo followed with Noodle and my wheelchair.

Matteo settled me in the back of the car, pulling me flush to his body once he got in. He ran his thumb across my cheek in a gesture that felt painfully tender.

“Did you replace out any useful information?” I asked as we got on the road.

“I certainly found out a lot of useless information,” he said.

My heart twisted slightly at his non-answer. He was letting me in more, showing his care for me, but he still didn’t trust me fully with Family business. Just then, his lips brushed against my forehead, and I told myself it didn’t matter. I would take whatever pieces he was ready to offer because I loved him.

I loved him.

The realization that I had fallen in love with my husband crashed over me in a riot of emotion. I’d fallen in love with Matteo bit by bit, my heart expanding with every kindness he showed me, with every time he let me glimpse the real him.

I wasn’t sure if Matteo would ever, could ever, love me. He’d locked his heart away after his parents’ murder and I had to accept he might never unlock it. But as I curled into his side, feeling content and safe and accepted, I knew I’d been given more than I could ever ask for.