Savage Vows (Titans: Moretti Mafia #2)

Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

Alessia

Houston

My heart is thundering, and I still can’t believe I have to do this.

In the days since we’ve been back from England, Matteo has slowly but surely taken over my life.

I’m now living in the fortress he calls home, and he’s swept me up into wedding plans.

The day after our return, we had an appointment with a jeweler. Yesterday he slid the rock onto my hand. Instead of love and smiles that I’d always hoped for when I got engaged, Matteo squeezed my hand, his touch menacing. Looking in my eyes, he made a clipped comment, telling me I was required to wear the ring anytime I left the house. Not that I’ve been allowed to do that without him.

Nash pulls through the gates of the Moretti family mansion in River Oaks and brakes to a stop in front of the steps.

In a quick move, he’s out of the vehicle and has the back door of the SUV open. Like he always does, Matteo exits first. He glances around, checking our surroundings, even though Nash already has.

He extends his hand toward me, an offer that isn’t really an offer at all. As always, power radiates from Matteo, despite his courteous manners.

I hesitate for a fraction of a moment too long.

“Alessia …” Warning drips from his tone when I don’t immediately move.

Meeting Matteo’s family is not on the top-ten list of things I want to do today. Or actually any day.

But he informed me that we’re expected to join his parents most Sunday afternoons for dinner.

Often his brothers are also in attendance, along with Nico and Bella Moretti. As well as being the don’s nephew, Nico is the family’s consigliere.

Matteo’s jaw tightens slightly, and I know he won’t hold onto his temper forever. The way he abducted me from Elysian Hall proved that he won’t hesitate to act if I’m disobedient. But would he really throw me over his shoulder and stride up the path to the front door?

I shiver. I know the answer to that.

Having no other option, I place my fingers in his, pretending not to notice how my skin tingles at the contact. His hand engulfs mine completely as he helps me from the car. My stilettos crunch against the circular driveway, the sound sharp against the afternoon quiet.

The Moretti estate is massive, a testament to old, ill-gotten money. In contrast, warm light spills from dozens of windows, and tendrils of ivy soften the imposing brick facade. Unlike the sterile modernity of my father’s compound, this place breathes with life and history. The sweet scent of Carolina jasmine winds through the cool, late winter air.

“Let’s go.” Matteo’s voice is low, measured, but there’s steel beneath the velvet tone.

He places his hand against my lower back, and his possessive heat burns through the silky dress he bought me two days ago.

I want to hate how naturally he touches me, how my traitorous body responds to his strength. Keeping him at a physical distance is becoming harder and harder, especially since I spend my nights in the room next to his.

Before we can ring the bell, the massive front doors swing open, and I suck in a sharp breath.

A woman who I assume is Matteo’s mother stands in the foyer, elegant in a way that speaks of inherent grace rather than careful cultivation. Her eyes—so much like Matteo’s—are lit up with genuine pleasure.

“You must be Alessia.”

She wraps me in an embrace, something I haven’t experienced from a member of my family since my mother died. The unexpected wave of emotion makes my throat tight.

When she pulls away, she curls her hands on my shoulders in a way that’s warm and maternal. “You’re even lovelier than Matteo described.”

I glance over my shoulder at him, catching an expression I’ve never seen before. Pride? Affection? Just as quickly, his usual mask slides back into place.

Remembering my manners, I finally speak. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Moretti.”

“Gina, please,” she corrects. “Now come inside.” She loops her arm through mine as if we’re already close friends. “Everyone wants to meet you.”

I let her draw me deeper into the house, past the soldiers who are trying to appear unobtrusive. I’m hyperaware of Matteo following like a shadow. The foyer opens into a grand space that somehow manages to feel intimate despite its size. The polished marble floors reflect light from stunning crystal chandeliers, and the air is rich with the scent of delicious cooking—bread, tomatoes, fresh herbs, garlic, the promise of comfort, something I’ve been missing since my hasty exit from the Cotswolds.

We enter a massive kitchen, and the air is thick with power.

I’m grateful that Gina is still holding onto me and that Matteo places his hand at the small of my back. The warmth of his touch seeps through my dress, steadying me despite my racing heart.

Even though Matteo did his best to prepare me, describing who I’d be meeting and the family dynamics, my breath catches when I see Don Raffaele Moretti.

He’s standing near the massive island. Since I grew up in a crime family, I’m no stranger to everything that means, but this man is a cut above. Even in this casual setting, power radiates from him. His salt-and-pepper hair is immaculately styled, and his eyes—as dark and penetrating as his oldest son’s—assess me carefully.

More than anyone, he probably realizes how hard Matteo had to work to get me to the United States.

Betraying none of that, he simply nods. “Welcome to our home, Alessia.”

I’m unsure how to address him. Don Raffaele? Sir? Suddenly wishing Matteo had coached me on that, I settle for “Thank you, Mr. Moretti.” I’m grateful my voice doesn’t waver.

Gina releases me to handle something on the stovetop.

“This is my brother, Dario,” Matteo says, gesturing to a man who could be his younger twin, though his features are softer.

Dario kisses my cheek in greeting. “About time someone took my brother off our hands.”

I almost laugh at that. Dario is unexpected, and despite myself, I begin to relax a little.

Then I meet Nico, a tall, amazingly handsome man with the bearing of someone thoughtful but restrained. From Matteo, I know Nico is new to his position. He was being groomed to be consigliere, but the recent and unexpected death of the previous advisor thrust him abruptly into the role.

His arm is looped possessively around the waist of the woman at his side. “A pleasure, Alessia.”

“And I’m Bella. Nico’s wife, if you’re trying to keep up with who’s who. I know how overwhelming everything can be.”

Surprising me, she detaches herself from her husband’s side and pulls me into a warm hug.

The Morettis are not the cold-blooded monsters I imagined. Dealing with them would be so much easier if they were the monsters I pictured—if they matched the cold calculation of my own family.

“Let’s go ahead and eat,” Gina says. “We won’t wait on Dante.”

Matteo hasn’t said a lot about the brother who is slightly younger than he is, but from what I’ve gathered, he’s the family’s enforcer. Honestly he’s someone I’m not looking forward to meeting.

As we all make our way to the dining room, Matteo’s fingers spread possessively against my back. I can’t deny the flutter in my stomach. I tell myself my reaction is from nerves, nothing more.

Matteo pulls back my chair and holds onto it. “My mom loves you. Thank you,” he whispers into my ear.

His approval sends my pulse skittering, even though his opinion shouldn’t matter.

He takes a seat next to me and places his hand on my thigh.

Across from me is an empty place setting for Dante, no doubt.

A decanter of chianti is passed around, and Matteo offers me a glass. I nod, and he fills it for me.

After we all have a drink, the Don proposes a toast. “To new beginnings.”

Matteo tilts his glass toward mine, and everyone else acknowledges us. I wonder if I’ll incinerate because of all the lies I’m living.

Moments later, Matteo serves me a big piece of lasagna, and I have a moment’s hesitation.

“I made this one specially for you,” Gina says. “Cheese only.”

Taken aback that Matteo said anything, I glance in his direction. Then I smile at Gina. “Thank you. But I hate for you to go to unnecessary work.”

She waves me off. “I want everyone to get full at my table.”

I take a bite, and the delicious flavors melt on my tongue. “This is amazing. The best I’ve ever had.”

Even though they have a chef, I know that Gina Moretti does all her own cooking for the weekly gathering. It’s a day for the family to be alone together, something they all appreciate.

Conversation flows around me, and when there’s a lull, Gina asks, “How are the wedding plans coming along?”

The heat of Matteo’s gaze is on me, and I flush. “Uh …” I stammer.

“I see he got you a ring,” Dario says.

The ridiculously large oval-cut diamond winks in the light.

“Beautiful,” Gina observes. Then she tells him, “You did well.”

He scowls. It’s too big for my tastes. But Matteo wanted something three carats or bigger. After a small argument in which the jewelry store clerk excused himself for a moment, this was the only one we could agree on.

“I’ve been expecting you to let me know the date of the wedding,” Raffaele states.

I’ve done my best to stall those decisions. Instead I’ve kept things vague, looking at flowers online, reading articles about what’s trending. Pretending I care.

“You’ll be the first to know when my fiancée and I have made a decision. Probably around the first part of next week,” Matteo responds smoothly. “Alessia has been getting settled. The journey was long, and it’s a big adjustment for her.”

I blink, hardly able to believe that he has offered his support in front of his family.

“No more than three months, Matteo,” Raffaele warns his son, but he includes me in his cold, calculated glance.

“That sounds reasonable,” Matteo assures his father.

“We can always have a small ceremony next week,” Raffaele goes on. “Just the two families.”

Frantic, I panic. “As Matteo says, we’ll have a decision soon.” My breath is rushed, the words tumbling over each other.

“There are so many details. It can be overwhelming,” Bella says, voice soothing as she redirects the conversation. “Have you even thought about a venue yet?”

I place my fork on my plate. I should have anticipated all these questions, but I hadn’t.

“We’re still in negotiations,” Matteo answers.

“I’d like to get married in New Orleans.” I lift one shoulder.

Matteo clamps his hand on my knee, hard. I drink in a breath and try not to wince.

“I’ve managed to convince her we’ll be married locally. Haven’t I, Alessia?”

Keenly aware of everyone staring at us, I force a half smile.

“I’m happy to help you with the planning, if you want,” Bella offers, once more soothing over the awkward silence. “I know an excellent coordinator, and she should be able to help you with all the details, including the venue.”

“That would be nice. My lie makes the words hollow. “Thank you.”

Fortunately the conversation moves on, and I’m lost in my own thoughts, not eating.

When Gina stands to help clear the table, I offer to help. Anything to escape these overwhelming men and the tension in the room.

In the kitchen, Bella and I load the dishwasher while Gina fills the coffee maker. While it’s brewing, she asks for a better look at my ring.

“Whichever one of you picked it has good taste,” she approves. “The stone is beautiful.”

“It was a compromise,” I admit.

“A what?” Bella laughs softly. “Moretti men aren’t capable of that.” I glance at her impressive ring. It has a square-cut diamond, surrounded by four other smaller ones. “It’s bigger than I’m comfortable with.”

“And he won the battle?”

“I didn’t have a say in the matter,” she confesses. “Nico handled it all on his own. Don’t get me wrong. I love it. But something smaller would be more practical.”

Another word that doesn’t seem to fit the Moretti men.

A few minutes later, Gina excuses herself to take coffee to the men, and Bella moves closer to me.

“How are you holding up?”

Caught off guard by the question, I consider her. “In what way?”

“I know this marriage isn’t your choice. I was a reluctant bride too.”

Her admission stuns me. She and Nico seem so in tune with one another, and absolutely in love.

“But you don’t have to face it alone. Gina is lovely, and I’m here for you. I’ll give you my contact information before we leave. We can get together for coffee or a drink.”

“If Matteo will let me.” The words are out before I can stop them.

She narrows her eyes. “Are you serious?”

“Forgive me.” With a smile, I try to cover my lapse. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Don’t worry about a thing.”

I shake my head, touched by her kindness, but I can’t drag her into my issues. Besides, there’s a chance she’ll tell Nico what I said. As the family’s trusted advisor, he’d be expected to repeat the information to the don or Matteo.

Gina bustles back into the kitchen, carrying the empty pot. Immediately she sets about filling the coffeemaker again. Then she enters the pantry, returning with a large, covered platter. “Surprise.” She lifts the foil and shows off a beautifully frosted chocolate cake. “It’s for you. Matteo says chocolate’s your favorite.”

“He’s right.” But I never expected him to mention that to his mom. “You shouldn’t have gone to this much effort.”

“My way of making you feel welcome. And since it’s yours, you don’t have to share. I have tiramisu for everyone else.”

“You really were thinking of me when you made the cake?” I’m touched beyond words. “No one has ever done anything like that for me before.”

“Not even for your birthday?”

“My mother …” The words catch in my throat, and tears sting my eyes. Bravely I blink them back. “I’m sure you know she died when I was young. I only remember cakes from the bakery while she was alive. Then … Well, my father doesn’t really believe in celebrating.” I shrug. Not birthday or Christmas.

“He doesn’t throw birthday parties for you?” she demands, her disbelief hanging in the air.

“Just another day.” I shrug.

She and Bella exchange glances. “When is it?”

“First part of April.”

“Well, this year will be different.” Gina nods.

I smile, and I don’t protest. If I have my way, I’ll be overseas again by then.

“Bella, be a dear and get the creamers out of the fridge.”

One of them is vanilla. Matteo again?

“Alessia, if you don’t mind”—she points—”the tiramisu is on the counter.”

“You’re being put to work on day one,” Bella teases.

“We’re all family,” Gina says. Then she looks at me. “Would you like to keep the cake for yourself? I can cut a piece for you and then wrap the rest for you to take home.”

“Oh heavens no! I’m happy to share.”

“Don Raffaele will be happy to hear that,” Bella says.

“He has a sweet tooth.” Gina rolls her eyes. “I wish he’d eat better, but I sometimes catch him having cookies or pie for breakfast.”

The information humanizes him in a way I can’t really comprehend. A man whose name strikes fear into the hearts of mortals sneaks cookies for breakfast?

“Shall we?” Gina asks.

Carrying the goodies, we rejoin the men.

Matteo pours a cup of coffee for me while Gina plates the cake and the tiramisu.

I’m sticking my fork into my slice of cake when Bella looks at Matteo. “I’d love to take Alessia for lunch and show her the sites, maybe do a little shopping so she feels more comfortable in Houston.”

He goes still.

“What day works best with your schedule, Matteo?” She smiles as if she expects no argument from him. “Tuesday is good for me. I can pick Alessia up and have her back home before you get off work. You’ll never even know she was gone.”

With a scowl, he glances at me. Then he looks back at Bella. “Don’t you have a full-time job?”

“My boss is understanding.” She smiles. “Besides, he knows how beneficial positive PR is.”

Nico shoots his wife a quizzical look while Don Raffaele sits back in his chair, contemplating. His ring—with a shape I can’t quite make out—radiates beneath the chandelier.

Hiding a smile, Gina looks down into her coffee shop.

Clearly there are things at play here that I know nothing about.

“Bella is right,” the don says. “As long as the press is considered.”

A few heartbeats later, Matteo nods. “Tuesday is fine.”

I exhale a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. Is he really going to let me out of his sight?

“I know the perfect place for lunch.” Bella is grinning. “I’ll make reservations if that’s okay, Alessia?”

“Thank you.” It will be my first opportunity to spend time away from Matteo since he kidnapped me. And maybe I can learn a few things about Matteo and his family that will help my plans. “Sounds wonderful.”

I finally take a bite of my cake. “This is spectacular,” I tell Gina. Maybe it’s even sweeter because I know I’ll be getting a taste of freedom in a couple of days. “You could own a bakery. I’ve honestly never had anything this good.”

She beams. “Baking is one of my pleasures.”

The doorbell rings, and a soldier moves past the dining room to answer it.

With a rush of energy, a man strides in. With his similarity in looks to Matteo, I’m guessing this is Dante Moretti. He’s wearing a slightly rumpled suit, and his tie is loose. A dark lock of hair has fallen over his forehead.

He greets his father with a respectful nod. Then he casually drops a kiss on his mother’s cheek, and she adjusts his jacket.

The man is beyond dangerous, cloaked in an air of menace and barely leashed restraint. He’s not someone I want to spend a single moment with.

“So this is the runaway bride,” Dante says, his smile sharp as he drops into the chair across from mine. “Finally decided to grace us with your presence?”

“Dante!” Gina’s tone is fierce, and her scowl is even more intimidating. “I’ll have none of that under my roof. We’re all together now, and that’s all that matters.”

“When’s the wedding?” he asks, ignoring the coffee and reaching for the wine.

“Within three months,” Matteo responds.

“And an engagement party?”

“Plans are underway.”

I’d hoped he’d forgotten about that. But when it comes to his responsibilities, I’m learning that Matteo never forgets anything.

Later, as Nash is driving us back to Matteo’s fortress-like mansion in Tanglewood, he takes my hand. “I was proud of you this evening.” He brings my knuckles to his lips.

Who is this man right now? And why am I melting?

Quickly I snatch my hand back.

“You’d be well advised to keep me happy, little rebel.”

“Or you’ll …what? Huff and puff and blow my house down?”

He grins and leans in a little closer to capture my chin. “Oh much, much worse, I assure you.”

“Matteo …” He’s my captor, my tormentor. And yet he ensured I had food to eat at the family dinner, and he stepped in when his father would have pushed me about the wedding.

An awful Matteo I can deal with.

But one who is kind and so devastatingly handsome …?

“When we get home, I’ll give you a taste of what you can expect when you behave. And when you don’t.”

I shift, remembering the way he’d tossed me over his shoulder and gave me a sharp spank on my rear when he stole me away from my perfect life. “Thanks, but I’ve already experienced that.”

“No, Alessia, you haven’t. But you’re about to …”