Now that I wasn’t wearing an ankle monitor anymore, Sandro was my shadow, and when Aria and I went anywhere together, Romero was always there as well. It was ridiculous. Even without a technical device every aspect of my life was out of my control. Married bliss, my ass.
I fixed a wayward strand, which had fallen out of my updo, and brushed my hands over my new dress. With all the social events looming in my future, Aria and I had done another big shopping trip. I was starting to feel like one of those trophy mob wives I’d despised all my life. Shopping, social events, and warming their husband’s bed was their whole world, and also mine. I glared at my reflection. I even looked all the way like a trophy wife with my hair in that elegant updo and the gorgeous dark green cocktail dress that hugged my curves. Even my huge wedding ring and the diamond necklace screamed trophy wife. It took all my self-control not to rip the dress off my body and cut my hair off. How could I have become what I’d hated for so long? And how could I be okay with it?
“Aria and Luca are here,” Matteo shouted. “We need to get going.” This was more than he’d said to me outside of the bedroom since that night. With a sigh, I turned away from the mirror and headed toward the living room where Aria, Luca, and Matteo were waiting. Matteo looked marvelous in a slim-fit black suit, white shirt, and black tie. It was so cliché mobster, but he pulled it off with ease. That man always looked good. His eyes did a quick scan of my outfit and my body responded with a familiar shiver. I’d read about looks that were like sex, but I’d always considered them urban legend. But Matteo had that look down to a T.
I kept my face unaffected as I walked toward them. Aria was an apparition in her dark red dress and with her golden curls. In the past I’d often felt like I could never compete with her but I’d come to realize that I didn’t have to. Luca towered over my sister in a similar suit like Matteo, but it did nothing for me. I stopped beside Matteo and his hand immediately went to my hip. Did he even notice how possessive those small gestures were? In the past, my first reaction to them would have been annoyance followed by a rebuff, but now it seemed almost natural. I wasn’t sure why this was the case, why I molded so easily into the life that had been cut out for me even before my birth. Some people would probably seek an explanation in fate or faith. I’d never considered either option to be valid. I didn’t like the idea that some bigger outer thing controlled who I was and how my life would develop.
“Hey, where are you?” Matteo asked, squeezing my hip lightly. I blinked, focusing on him. I hadn’t even realized we’d stepped into the elevator.
I shook my head. “Thinking of all the ways this evening could end badly,” I lied.
“As long as Matteo keeps his knife in his holster and you keep your mouth in check, things should go smoothly,” Luca muttered, sending both Matteo and me a glare. “Tonight is important. Several of the attending businessmen are under pressure from the Russians. I want to show strength and make a good impression. It would be even better if you could manage not to offend the wives.”
“Why me? What about Aria?”
“Aria knows how to behave herself. She’s the perfect lady whereas you are anything but.”
Aria touched Luca’s chest. “Be nice to my sister.”
“I’m not rude to everyone. Only people I don’t like,” I said pointedly.
“Which will be everyone at the party,” Matteo interjected. “They are insufferable, believe me.” We exchanged a grin, then as if remembering our “kind of” fight from a few nights ago, looked away from each other. I could see Luca give Aria one of those secret looks they always shared.
“Just behave yourself,” Luca said. “Both of you. It’s like God’s sent you two to me to test my patience.”
Aria giggled and hit Luca’s shoulder lightly, but her eyes were sparkling with adoration. Would I ever look at someone like that? I wasn’t sure if I wanted to. It seemed like she was baring her soul for everyone to see and she didn’t even mind.
Together we stepped out of the elevator and into the freezing cold parking garage. I shivered. I hadn’t taken a coat with me because I only had to walk from the elevator to the car and then from the car to wherever the party was taking place, but now I regretted it. It was mid-December after all. One month since Matteo had caught me. Sometimes it was hard to believe so much time had passed already.
Matteo let go of me, removed his jacket and put it over my shoulders. His warmth and scent enveloped me, and I caught myself drawing in a deep breath.
“Thanks,” I said half-embarrassed.
Luca had done the same for Aria despite the short way to the car. Aria and I settled in the back of Matteo’s Porsche Cayenne while Luca and Matteo sat in the front. It seemed the men weren’t worried anymore that I’d try to jump out of the driving car to escape. Maybe they, too, had noticed how easily I’d settled in.
Aria leaned over to whisper in my ear. “I know you don’t want to see it but you and Matteo are like you were made for each other.”
I shot her a look, ignoring the way my pulse sped up with an emotion I didn’t even want to think about. “Don’t even start.”
Aria shrugged. “It’s the truth. And he’s really trying. They aren’t perfect but they are trying to be good to us. You don’t look unhappy.”
I wasn’t exactly unhappy, but I tried to attribute it to Aria’s constant presence in my new life. It was the convenient explanation. I didn’t say anything, couldn’t come up with a witty reply that wouldn’t sound utterly fake.
We sat in silence after that and yet I felt like my silence was more of an answer than I liked. I was actually relieved when we finally pulled up in front of a luxury apartment building not unlike the one Matteo and I lived in. A doorman rushed toward our car and opened my door. Good thing he didn’t see both Luca and Matteo reach for their weapons, always ready for an attack.
I thanked the guy who looked like he was barely my age, and got out. Aria followed quickly. We handed the jackets back to our husbands before walking into the brightly lit lobby. Another doorman waited next to the elevator and clicked the correct button for us.
As we rode up toward the top floor, Matteo leaned close and murmured, “Don’t forget to behave yourself.” He winked at me when he pulled back and I knew we’d be in trouble. Matteo’s expression promised that he had absolutely no intention to be good tonight.
The party took place in a huge penthouse overlooking the city. It was not quite as big as Luca’s but definitely showy. The walls were covered with drawings by Picasso, Warhol, and Miró, all of them originals, and I had a feeling the furniture was as pretentious, but everything had been removed to fit two long tables for eighty guests into the room as well as a dozen bar tables where guests could mingle before dinner.
The noise level was overwhelming despite the size of the penthouse and there wasn’t anything Christmas-y about the decoration except for an abstract glass Nativity scene on the mantle and an even more abstract glass Christmas tree in one corner. Aria and I looked at each other and almost burst into laughter.
My mood dropped the moment the host and hostess, a middle-aged couple that looked even more fake than their tree, approached us. I braced myself for the disgusted once-over, but the woman smiled at Aria and me the same way.
The hostess who introduced herself as Miriam practically beamed at me, though it looked almost scary because her face was frozen from too many Botox treatments. “You must be the beautiful new bride,” she said, and kissed me on both cheeks.
“Yes, thank you,” I said, startled.
I darted a confused look at Matteo. He must have read it right because he leaned toward me while the host and hostess spoke to Luca and Aria. “They aren’t part of our culture. They don’t give a crap about our rules and morals,” Matteo whispered.
The hostess turned back to us. “Dinner starts in thirty minutes. But please help yourself to our delicious hors d’oeuvres and champagne.” She pronounced champagne in an odd French accent, which almost made me laugh again, but I pulled myself together and smiled politely instead. The woman had been kind to me, so I had to act accordingly, even if Luca thought I was incapable of pleasantness.
I glanced around, only spotting one familiar couple, that I assumed must be part of the mob or I wouldn’t have recognized them. Apart from that, we were blissfully surrounded by strangers, who didn’t call me slut under their breaths, or look down their noses at me. This was a straight-up social event that normal people, well normal rich people attended. I relaxed. Maybe this wouldn’t be too bad.
“Come on. Let’s fill up on some champagne. We’ll need the buzz to carry us through the boredom,” Matteo said. Luca shot him a scowl, but Matteo merely grinned and led me toward an unoccupied bar table. I grabbed a glass and took a deep gulp. That was the one good thing about living in our world; nobody gave a damn if I was of legal age to drink. The bubbles prickled delightfully on my tongue. It had been a long time since I’d had good champagne. The last time was at Aria’s wedding.
Matteo smirked.
“What?” I asked, checking my dress for any stains.
“You look like a sophisticated lady.”
“I’m not a sophisticated lady,” I said quickly and was about to take another gulp of champagne but stopped with the rim against my lips. With a glare, I set it down. “I’m not.”
“I didn’t say you were. I only pointed out that you look it.”
He was right. I fit in, which brought me back to my earlier problem. Why was I becoming more like a trophy wife every day? I downed the rest of my champagne in one large gulp, not at all ladylike, making Matteo laugh, and I couldn’t help but do too. It felt good to laugh with him, and even better to see mirth banish some of the darkness in his eyes.
Miriam called for everyone to settle around the tables, and asked us to sit next to her with other important guests. Unfortunately Aria had to sit across from me, so I couldn’t even talk to her in case I got bored. I was wedged between Matteo and a woman I didn’t know. Luckily the first course was served almost immediately, so I had something to do. Miriam as well as the other women around us were more interested in Aria anyway, probably because she was Luca’s wife and knew how to do proper small talk.
Suddenly I felt Matteo’s hand on my knee. I shot him a look but he was immersed in a conversation with Luca and the host. I took another bite of my carpaccio but stopped mid-chew when his hand began its ascent higher, toward the lacy edge of my hold-ups. I had to suppress a small shiver at the sensations his light touch sent straight to my center. I clenched my legs together and tried to focus on the conversation Aria was having with the other women. The corners of Matteo’s lips twitched in reaction. Of course that wasn’t the end of it. When was it ever?
Matteo’s fingers slipped between my legs despite my attempts to lock him out, and then his fingertips slipped under the edge of my panties and lightly stroked the crevice between my leg and vulva. I reached for the glass and took a deep gulp of the wine.
“What do you think, Gianna? Would you be interested?” asked the hostess Miriam. Her eyebrows were raised but due to all the Botox, the rest of her face was static, and her expression resembled one of mild boredom.
My eyes darted to Aria, hoping she’d help me out. I had no clue what Miriam was talking about. Matteo’s fingers had distracted me completely.
“I know you love modern art, and it’s not easy to come by a private tour through the Guggenheim. I’m sure Matteo can spare you for a few hours,” Aria said with a meaningful look.
I could have kissed her. She always saved the day. “Yes, I’d love to—” Matteo’s fingers slipped between my lower lips, gently nudging them apart, finding me wet and aching, the stupid bastard. He was still talking to Luca and the other men as if nothing of interest was going on under the table.
Aria and the other women were watching me expectantly. I cleared my throat and kicked Matteo’s leg hard, before I said, “I’d love to take you up on that offer.” Could I sound any more sophisticated? Trophy wife all the way.
Matteo’s finger traveled up my slit until it reached my clit where he started to draw small circles. I pressed my lips together to stop a moan from slipping out. Thankfully, Miriam went on another monologue about a trip to the Caribbean and I was back to pretending to listen. Only Aria gave me the occasional odd glance, as if she thought I might not be feeling well.
If only she knew. The waiters entered the room with our main course, but I hardly cared.
Without even intending to, I parted my legs a bit more, giving Matteo more room to explore my wet folds. His fingers slipped up and down, teasing my opening, before they returned to my throbbing clit. I clutched my wine glass. It wouldn’t have surprised me if I’d broken it in two from my tight grip. My breathing was shallow. Matteo kept up the slow rhythm, driving me closer and closer toward release. I should have pushed his hand away, should have stopped this madness before this turned into the most embarrassing night of my life, but need had taken over and banished any hint of reason. After a few bites of veal, I put my fork down. I was hungry for only one thing.
Matteo slipped a finger into me and I barely managed to keep in my whimper. I was getting so close. Could I even be silent?
But I was too far gone to care. Matteo still wasn’t looking at me. Instead he was completely focused on the conversation, or at least he pretended to be. I hated him for his acting talent. He brought me closer and closer, taking his time. God, this was the most delicious torture.
His skilled fingers became the whole center of my being until suddenly, without a warning he pulled them away. Shocked, I stared at him, only to realize that the waiters had returned with our dessert, chocolate mousse. Matteo gave me a grin.
I wanted to rip his clothes off and have my way with him, bring him to the brink, only to deny him release. Matteo dipped a finger into the mousse, the finger he’d used to finger me, and slid it into his mouth, licking it clean. “Hm. Delicious.”