GIANNA & MATTEO
Novella
CHAPTER ONE
Gianna
“How about we party the night away?” Matteo said as he nuzzled my neck.
I grinned. “I’m in. It’s been too long.”
“I know,” he murmured.
“Sometimes I wish I could just make a girls’ night out with Aria and Lily.”
“You can.”
I snorted. “Yeah with bodyguards watching our every move.”
Matteo’s dark eyes met mine in the mirror. “I’m trying to give you as much freedom as I can. I’d allow you to go party with your sisters if it wasn’t too dangerous. And Luca would never allow it anyway.”
“Allow it?” I muttered. “Like I’m a kid or a prisoner.”
“You know it’s not true,” he said. I gave him a look because we knew it was true. Matteo would never let me head out on my own either, and I wasn’t entirely sure if it was only because of the Bratva and the MCs breathing down the Famiglia’s neck.
“It doesn’t matter anyway,” I said. “Now that Aria and Lily have kids, they don’t want to party anymore anyway.”
Matteo grimaced. “I know. Romero and Lily talk about nothing but poo and vomit since Sara was born.”
I snorted, shaking my head. “I hope they hold back when we celebrate my birthday this month.” It would be a chilled affair in the Hamptons.
“I doubt it,” Matteo said. “We’ll have a nice barbecue and jump in the pool, and listen to exciting diaper stories.”
“I’m so glad we don’t have kids.”
Matteo kissed my throat, then down to my shoulder. “Hmmm. Then we couldn’t have sex in the open bathroom now.”
“We’re having sex now?” I asked, raising my eyebrows. “I thought we wanted to party the night away.”
“Oh, we will,” he growled in my ear as his hand snuck into my panties. “But first this.”
* * *
Two hours later I was dressed in tight black jeans and a sparkling crop top with the words “Sparkly Bitch” across the chest. I put on black boots because no one could really dance with high heels. Checking my eyeliner once more, I walked out of the bedroom and down the staircase into the living area. Luca and Aria had bought a spectacular townhouse with a small yard in the Upper East Side shortly after Amo’s birth and had given us their penthouse. Matteo was already waiting, leaning against the kitchen island of our apartment, scrolling through messages on his phone. He was also dressed in all black and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, revealing those muscled arms that had held me up less than an hour ago when he’d fucked me against the wall. His dark hair was short but it still took him longer than me to get it in shape with wax.
He looked up and his eyes slowly slid over my body. “Hot as hell,” he said with a grin. “Sparkly bitch? I thought you didn’t like to be called bitch.”
“I don’t like to be called bitch by others, especially you when we fight,” I said.
Matteo stalked toward me and gripped my hips. “But Gianna, sometimes you are a real b—”
I clamped my hand over his mouth. “Don’t you dare say it.”
His brown eyes crinkled in amusement. I lowered my hand. “Beast,” he finished.
I hit his chest. “And you’re a cocky bastard.”
He didn’t deny it.
“How about we have drinks in the Tipsy Cow first?”
“Deal,” I said. “How can I resist a good cocktail?”
Hand in hand, we walked into the elevator and leaned against the mirror as it traveled down. Matteo regarded me. “You get more gorgeous the longer we’re together,” he said.
“That’s because your eyesight gets worse.” I was turning thirty-one this month and had found the first gray hair a few weeks ago. I’d plucked it at once but it had given me a small crisis. Matteo, the bastard, still had thick, dark hair, and even if he got gray hair at some point, I just knew it would make him look hot.
Matteo squeezed my hip. “I have perfect sight, trust me. You are sex on legs, Gianna.”
I took my burgundy lipstick out and put it to my lips, trying to hide my pleased smile.
* * *
Matteo waved at the bartender when we entered the crowded bar. We tried to have a cocktail night once a week and most of the time we came to the Tipsy Cow. Its bare brownstone walls, cowhide booths, and their amazing list of cocktails was right up our alley.
We slipped into our usual spot, sitting beside each other, thigh to thigh, in the booth. Matteo threw an arm around my shoulder and leaned in. “See, the first poor sucker thinks he can eye-fuck you.”
I followed his gaze toward a guy sitting in another booth with a woman and still leering at me. I gave him the most disgusted expression I was capable of.
“I love your resting bitch face,” Matteo said, then grabbed my face and gave me a deep kiss.
When we pulled apart, the menus rested on our table. I gave Matteo a look, embarrassed that the server had to witness our PDA.
“How about a little adventure?” Matteo asked as he picked up the menu.
I narrowed my eyes. I’d learned to be wary when it came to Matteo’s definition of adventure. “That depends.”
“We choose each other’s cocktails.”
“That’s tame for you,” I said, surprised, but actually liking the idea.
I perused the list of cocktails, trying to decide what I’d order for Matteo. Even though we’d been here countless times, there were many cocktails that Matteo had never tried, mainly the sweet and creamy variety. His usual choice was an old-fashioned. At first, I considered choosing something sickly sweet and girly to tease him but then I decided it would be more fun to try and find a cocktail he never tried because he thought it wasn’t what he liked. Smiling, I chose the Chilled Irishman.
Matteo raised his eyebrows but didn’t comment. I could tell that he thought I was trying to find the cocktail he liked least.
Eventually he chose a concoction with mint schnapps and white chocolate, definitely not my usual choice.
I settled in his arms as we waited for our order. “Sometimes I’m shocked by how long we’ve been together.”
“Almost thirteen years. A lucky year?” He grinned.
I shook my head. “Did you really believe we’d last this long when we first married?”
Matteo shrugged, looking thoughtful. “To be honest, I rarely thought beyond the next weekend, much less a decade. But I knew I wanted you and that we’d be great together if you’d get over your mobster aversion.”
I rolled my eyes. I had never really gotten over my aversion for the business but I’d accepted it as part of my life. The waiter headed toward us with our cocktails. I eyed the green concoction in front of me warily. “You know how much I hate mint and chocolate together, and yet you order this.” I motioned at the glass in front of me with sprigs of mint and a mesh of white chocolate as decoration.
“You hated us together at first and now here we are.” He took a sip from his drink and nodded appreciatively.
I removed the mesh from my glass and bit a piece off before I put it down on the napkin and took a sip from my drink. My lips pulled into a grimace. “You’re lucky we worked out better than this drink.”
Matteo squeezed my hip. “I think we’re both lucky.”
I sipped at his drink and shrugged. “Deal.”
* * *