His Tesoro: An Arranged Marriage Age Gap Mafia Romance (Empire of Royals Book 1)
His Tesoro: Chapter 4

“Ido.”

That was it. No going back now.

It was time to exchange rings. I briefly panicked since I hadn’t been given a ring for Matteo, but he produced bands for both of us. I gave him a grateful smile, and something in his jaw ticked. My smile fell and a sick feeling twisted my stomach. Did my husband hate me already?

The priest blessed the rings and then Matteo slipped the plain gold band onto my finger. A brief flash of disappointment went through me before I stuffed it down. I’d spent hours as a child circling my favorite rings in the jewelry catalogs I fished out of the trash after my mama was done with them. I’d dreamed of an art deco-style ring with a large diamond in the middle and smaller stones surrounding it. But nothing about this wedding was like the one I’d imagined when I was younger. Not the dress, which my mother had chosen, even though it would make moving around in my wheelchair a nightmare. Not the guest list, which mainly consisted of old, powerful Bratva men. And not the groom.

To be fair, I couldn’t have picked a more attractive husband even if I’d had a choice. The pictures Mila and I found hadn’t done him justice. Matteo was devastatingly handsome. His dark hair was casually messy, contrasting with his otherwise stern, put-together demeanor. His suit—not a tux—was impeccably tailored and showed off his tall, muscular body. But I’d always imagined getting married to someone who loved me. Or at least liked me. I swallowed the lump in my throat as I slipped the plain gold band on his finger, his rough fingertips brushing against my skin.

I signed the marriage certificate with a hand that was steadier than I felt. I braved another glance up at my new husband, but he was staring straight ahead with the same flat expression he’d worn since I entered the church. I’d never been able to control my face, to the immense disappointment of my father. According to him, I was too easy to read, too vulnerable, too pathetic. I didn’t know if I should be impressed or terrified by Matteo’s ability to cover his emotions.

“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride,” the priest said, closing out the ceremony.

I froze.

Oh no oh no oh no.

Matteo would have to bend down to kiss me, but doing that would be degrading to a Mafia Don. His expression remained unchanging as he leaned down, took my chin between his thumb and forefinger, and pressed his lips to mine. The kiss was soft, barely a brush, but his touch was electric and left me wanting more. All too quickly, it was over. My husband nodded to the priest before finally meeting my eyes, jerking his chin at the exit. “Time to go.”

I swallowed hard. It wasn’t like we had a reception planned. My father would never want to show off his defective daughter in such a public way. He’d only invited his inner circle, men who were aware of my disability, to the ceremony. But I still thought I’d have more time to say goodbye. I nodded and turned my chair to go back down the aisle. I stopped by my family’s pew and reached my hand out to Mila, who squeezed past my stony-faced parents to join me. Matteo strode ahead until he realized I wasn’t beside him. He stopped and turned towards me. I bit my lip, not wanting to make him angry, but I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye to my sister.

“I guess we’re leaving right now,” I said, grasping her hand.

She nodded, her chin wobbling. I squeezed her hand harder to keep my tears from coming. She leaned down and wrapped her arms around me.

“Don’t let him push you around, Sofiya. You’re too sweet for your own good,” she whispered.

“Okay,” I whispered back. I’d always been good at standing up for Mila, but I’d never been able to do it for myself. I guessed it was time to learn.

I met Matteo’s gaze over Mila’s shoulder. He looked down at his watch, and I took that as my sign that my time had run out.

“I love you.” I squeezed my sister hard before reluctantly letting go.

I glanced at my mom, but she stared straight ahead. Being married to my father had slowly made her fade away until she was an overmedicated shell. I took a deep breath and moved down the aisle towards my new husband and new life.

My arms ached, each push of the wheelchair straining my wrists and shoulders. Luckily, the front of the church had a ramp, so I made my way around it to the street, where three black BMWs waited.

“This is ours,” Matteo said, gesturing to the middle vehicle. His eyes flickered down to my chair.

Mila and I had spent hours watching videos of how to transfer from my wheelchair to the car, and then we’d snuck out late at night to practice in the garage. Of course Matteo would use massive SUVs, just like my father. It made the transfer all the more challenging since I would have to pull myself up into the seat with my massive dress, but I wasn’t about to show any weakness in front of these men, who had formed a circle around Matteo and me.

This was so freaking embarrassing.

One of the soldiers stepped in front of me. My eyes widened as I took him in. He was probably the biggest guy I’d ever seen—at least 6’6”, maybe taller, and ridiculously muscular. My heart jolted anxiously until I took in his slightly boyish face, gentle smile, and man bun. “Hi, Mrs. Rossi, I’m Angelo. I can help you get in if you tell me what to do.”

For a second, I didn’t know who he was talking to, but of course, I was Mrs. Rossi now. That would take some getting used to.

“I can do it if you open the door for me.” He nodded and did what I asked.

I rolled up to the car at an angle and put on my brakes. I wished I could ask everyone to turn their backs because I was feeling especially weak today and already knew it would be a struggle. I moved to the edge of my chair and then transferred to the car’s running board. Now I just needed to pull myself up to the seat. I grabbed the handle above the window and used it to leverage myself up, clenching my teeth against the pain in my shoulders.

“Impressive, bella,” Angelo said, helping me pull the skirt of my dress into the car. “I’ll put your chair in the back.”

I gave him a little smile, and Matteo made a sound almost like a growl. His jaw was clenched and his eyes seemed to blaze with anger before he slammed the door shut behind me.

I closed my eyes, refusing to allow myself to cry. After growing up in such a cold house, I’d dreamed of marrying and starting a family. Now I wondered if signing my name on that paper had sealed my fate of living in another loveless home.