Savage Vows (Titans: Moretti Mafia #2)

Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Alessia

“How are you holding up?”

Bella’s question catches me off guard, making me pause with my water glass halfway to my lips. The crystal sparkles in the afternoon sunlight streaming through La Fontana’s floor-to-ceiling windows, and I use the moment of replacing it on the crisp white tablecloth to gather my thoughts.

“I’m…” The word “fine” dies on my tongue. After all, how do you tell someone you’re planning to run away from their family? Especially when that someone is not just the consigliere’s wife but also the family’s head of communications.

She waits patiently, her hazel eyes kind but knowing. Unlike me in my simple black sheath dress, Bella looks every inch the Mafia bride in a tailored pink power suit that no doubt cost the same as a month’s stay at Elysian Hall. But there’s nothing pretentious about her manner.

The restaurant hums with quiet conversation and the gentle clink of silverware against fine china. A server passes us, carrying a tray of perfectly seared scallops, and the aroma makes my mouth water despite my churning stomach.

“It’s complicated,” I finally admit.

“It usually is,” she agrees. “I remember.”

“But did you hate Nico at first?” The question slips out before I can stop it.

“Our relationship was a little different from yours.”

Oh?

“When I first met him, I didn’t know who he was at all.” She pauses. “In fact, he used a fake name.”

Her admission stuns me. “Really?”

“He turned on all the charm, made me fall in love with him, and he proposed. I was never happier.”

“So what happened?”

“We were having dinner with my brother, and he demanded to know if Nico had told me who he was.” She shrugs. “I was confused.”

In the course of a couple of minutes, she tells me that Nico blamed Bella’s brother for the death of his beloved younger sister. And he set about exacting revenge on her family.

He maneuvered finances and made strategic plans for years to own her family, culminating in breaking Bella’s heart.

“Oh my God.” I’m stunned. “How did you react when you found out who he really was?”

“You asked if I hated him.” She strokes her finger down the stem of her glass. “Hate isn’t strong enough. I was devastated. Betrayed. He broke my heart. Everything I knew about him, every emotion I felt, everything I believed he felt for me…? I thought it was all a lie.”

“Wasn’t it?” My words are a little sharper than I intend.

“Parts of it were.” Her honesty surprises me. “But not all of it. Not the important parts, though it took me a long time to see that.”

The waiter arrives with our appetizers: delicate portions of tuna crudo for her, burrata with heirloom tomatoes for me. I focus on drizzling olive oil over my plate, but the confession I’ve been holding inside spills out anyway.

“I don’t want anything to do with this,” I tell her softly. “My family, this lifestyle, everything.”

Bella’s expression remains open, nonjudgmental. “Tell me?”

The burrata melts on my tongue as I gather my courage. “I was eight when I first saw what this life really means. There was a man in our entryway, beaten half to death. My father…” I swallow hard. “My father ordered his execution right there. I can still hear the way his voice sounded—so cold, so matter of fact. Like he was ordering dinner instead of ending a life.”

“That must have been terrifying for a child.”

“It was. And then my mother…” Except for with Matteo last night, I’ve never shared this with anyone. “She died in what everyone called an ‘accident.’ But I knew better. It was a hit meant for my father. She was just… collateral damage.”

“Oh, Alessia.” Bella reaches across the table to squeeze my hand.

“As soon as I finished college, I ran to Europe, built a life there. Art, freedom, normalcy. I rarely came home, and now…” I gesture helplessly. “Now I’m right back where I started. Being forced to marry a man who—” I cut myself off.

“A man who what?” she prompts gently.

“A man who terrifies me,” I whisper. I can’t believe I’m about to admit this, but Bella invites confidence, and she’s been honest with me. And right now, I need a friend, someone to help me sort all this through. “Not because I think he’d hurt me, but because sometimes I look at him, and I forget to breathe. Sometimes he touches me, and I forget all the reasons I should run away again.”

“And those reasons are?”

“He’s just like my father. Like my brothers. He lives in a world of violence and death and?—”

“And love,” Bella interrupts. “And loyalty. And honor, in their own way.”

“How can you say that?” I’m puzzled. “I mean, after what Nico did to you?”

She sits back. “Because I’ve learned that nothing about this life, or these men, is simple. Yes, they can be ruthless. Yes, they live by a different code than most. But they’re also capable of a depth of love that’s staggering.”

Our drinks are refilled, and the waiter returns with our entrees. The rich aroma fills the air between us.

“How do you reconcile it?” I ask when we are alone again. “The man who orders deaths with the man who shares your bed?”

“I don’t try to. I accept that they’re the same person. Nico is who he is—fierce, protective. Like Matteo, he’s sometimes terrifying. But he’s also the man who holds me through nightmares and brings me coffee every morning. The man who would burn the world down to keep me safe.”

“And that doesn’t scare you?”

“Sometimes it does. But it also makes me feel…” She pauses, searching for the right word. “Cherished. Protected. Loved beyond reason.”

“I don’t know.” I twirl pasta around my fork. “I miss New Orleans sometimes. The energy, the vibrancy. Stopping for beignets at midnight, listening to jazz spilling out of doorways.” I smile ruefully. “Sometimes I’d sit in Jackson Square for hours, just sketching tourists and street performers.”

“And London?” Bella asks gently.

“London was incredible, but the Cotswolds…” I set down my fork. “That’s where I really found myself. The artist colony there… We were like family. Everyone contributed; everyone belonged. I helped in the gardens and the kitchen. I could paint for hours in this incredible old conservatory with light streaming in from everywhere.”

“And now you feel caged?” There’s understanding in her voice, not judgment.

“Matteo doesn’t want me to leave the house.” I glance out the window where I know a driver is waiting. Chiara is somewhere in the building, though I have to admit, she is being unobtrusive. If I didn’t know she was there, I wouldn’t suspect. “This is the first time I’ve been allowed out by myself since he brought me to Houston.” For a moment, I think about the contrast in my life before he kidnapped me.

“You’re not able to pursue your art?”

“I am.” And that’s the silver lining. “The loft Matteo created for me is wonderful.” His thoughtfulness still gets to me.

“Tell me about it?” Bella prompts.

“It’s perfect. He talked to Artemis—who runs the artists’ colony—and he made sure to get everything right. The lighting, the storage. He even had special shelving built for canvases. I’ve got a balcony, all the supplies I can think of. Sometimes when I’m there, I almost forget…”

“That you’re not free?”

I nod, grateful she understands. No wonder the Morettis wanted her as their PR person. She’s smart and compassionate.

“Can I tell you something?” Bella leans forward. “Having a driver doesn’t mean giving up your life. Yes, they report to our husbands—or in your case, future husband. But they’re also there to enable our lives, not restrict them.”

“How do you handle it?” I ask. “The constant watching?”

“I changed how I think about it. Instead of seeing chains, I see…support. The freedom to focus on what matters to me because someone else is handling the logistics and security.” She smiles. “I can work or read during my commute.”

Catching up on my social media and not having to worry about directions or parking was a nice perk.

“I think maybe Matteo is having some adjustment issues. I have freedom and so does Aunt Gina.”

Aunt Gina. It takes me a moment to realize she’s talking about the Don’s wife, who is Nico’s aunt.

“She has an amazing circle of friends. Artists, philanthropists, business owners. They meet weekly for lunch, organize charity events. She hasn’t given up a single thing that matters to her.” Bella signals for more wine. “And neither have I. I still work, still have my foundation. The only difference is now I have people making sure I’m safe while I do it. Nico is more relaxed, and that means my life is simpler.”

“But how did you get comfortable with it?”

“Time. Trust. Realizing that Nico’s need to protect me comes from love, not a desire to control.” She studies me over her glass of wine. “You know, there’s quite an active arts community here in Houston, and there are several galleries in River Oaks that might like to show your work. I know a lot of the owners from my work at the foundation. I’m happy to make introductions. From there, you could build your own circle, create your own community.”

“Matteo would allow that?”

“He might not like it at first, but he’d eventually support you. His father and Nico are both advising him, and he listens to them.” She grins. “He’d probably buy out your first show just to prove a point.”

That idea is so farfetched that I dismiss it out of hand.

Once our plates are cleared, we both decline dessert, though I’m tempted by the chocolate cake.

“I’ll have coffee, though,” Bella says.

“Make that two,” I agree.

“These men of ours can be…intense. But they support the women in their lives. Keeping you happy is in his best interest. His parents will have told him that.”

A memory of the loft and the way he treats me in bed flashes through me, bringing a wave of heat with it.

To cover my reaction, I take a sip of coffee.

“The trick is building your life within the parameters of this world, not fighting against them.” She’s quiet for a moment. “I hate to put on my business hat,” Bella says as she stirs cream into her coffee, “but how are the wedding preparations coming along?”

The question shouldn’t surprise me. The Don was very clear in his expectations. I’ve been avoiding anything to do with the wedding as much as possible, hoping that if I don’t acknowledge it, somehow it won’t happen. “They’re not.”

“It can be overwhelming, especially since everything is so new.” She sits back, untouched coffee in hand. “We have a list of everyone who needs to be invited from our side. I’m sure your family has names to add to it.”

I’m still planning that there won’t be a wedding, even if I go through the motions. And I couldn’t care less about any opinion my father has.

“Protocol is important in this world, and I’m happy to help navigate it. And so is Gina. She adores her sons, but I know she would have loved to have had daughters.”

I consider myself critically; I look uncertain, trapped. “I don’t know how to do any of this.”

“No one does at first. But you’re not alone.” She smiles reassuringly. “I meant it on Sunday. I know of a great wedding planner, and I’m happy to go with you, though I’m sure that Matteo is happy to also.”

I can’t even picture that.

“We need to start with your engagement party dress. You’ll need something spectacular since it will be your first official introduction to society as Matteo’s fiancée.” She gives me a considering look. “I’m thinking something in deep jewel tones. Emerald, maybe, or sapphire.”

Our server brings the bill, and before I can reach for the portfolio, Bella opens her purse and hands over a credit card.

“Really, Bella?—”

“Nico’s happy to pay.” She grins and waves away my thank-yous. “I mean it, that our men may be a handful, but they want us to be happy. Now, are you ready to shop? I know the perfect place for us to start. Rêve de Mode, a boutique in River Oaks.”

Since my needs are simple, I don’t carry designer bags or spend unnecessary money on clothes. Matteo has already been extravagant with my wardrobe.

“A friend of mine owns it,” she goes on. “I think you’ll like it.”

As we stand, I glance instinctively toward the exit where Chiara is standing, along with a man who is very possibly Bella’s bodyguard.

My urge to run isn’t as strong as it was even a week ago, but it’s still there, humming under my skin.

“It gets easier,” Bella says softly, following my gaze. “When you stop seeing the walls and start seeing the doors.”

We each take separate cars to the store.

Inside is a fantasy of designer labels and perfect lighting, so different from the vintage shops I frequented in London or the artist-run boutiques in New Orleans. A sales associate immediately appears with flutes of champagne. Maybe this part isn’t so bad.

“I texted Amelia on the drive over, and she was sorry to say she couldn’t be here,” Bella says. “She’s looking forward to meeting you.”

My eyes catch on a breathtaking gown in a deep, rich emerald color. It has a sweetheart neckline and off-the-shoulder sleeves. It’s timeless and elegant, but the price tag makes me gasp.

“Try it on,” Bella encourages.

“I couldn’t possibly?—”

“For your engagement party,” she insists. “You’ll need something spectacular for your first official introduction to society as Matteo’s fiancée.”

Despite the fact I’m sure there won’t be a party, the dress is stunning, and if Matteo thinks I’m following his dictates, I’m likely to have more freedom.

“Do it,” Bella encourages.

In the dressing room, the emerald silk whispers against my skin as it falls into place. The mirror reflects back a woman I barely recognize. She’s sophisticated, elegant, powerful. The kind of woman who could stand beside Matteo.

For a moment, I imagine someone else next to him, and the thought makes me slightly dizzy.

I shake my head at my ridiculousness.

It doesn’t matter to me who Matteo is with. A Mafia princess who wants to get married and step into a position of power is a far better choice for him.

“Show me!” Bella calls out.

Sighing, I scoop up the hem and exit the dressing room.

“Oh my God.” Bella gasps. “So gorgeous. Matteo won’t know what hit him.”

In the three-way mirror, all I can see is the price tag dangling from the bodice. No matter how stunning it is, I can’t justify the cost

“You have to get it,” Bella says.

“The price?—”

Over the rim of her flute, she scowls. “Did Matteo not give you a credit card?”

“He did. But I’m not planning to use it.”

“Because…?”

“I can’t be indebted to him.”

“Why not? Because you’re planning to leave?”

I wring my hands together. “How did you…?”

“Because I’ve been in your place. But here’s what I learned—sometimes running away isn’t about escaping someone else. Sometimes it’s about escaping who we’re afraid of becoming.”

As I think about her comments, she takes another sip of her bubbly. She enters the dressing room and picks up my drink and gives it to me.

Then she goes on. “Have you considered that the credit card may be his way of wanting to take care of you?”

“But I don’t need to be taken care of.”

“Maybe not. But is it so terrible to let someone try?”

The clerk joins us, interrupting our conversation. “That is stunning on you,” she says.

Even though she’s right, that it seems made for me, I hesitate. “Let me think about it.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She helps me to change, and I continue shopping with Bella.

With a sharp eye, she plucks out another dress, this one a deep sapphire color. “You’ve got to try it,” Bella insists.

It, too, is gorgeous. I have to give it to her; she has amazing taste.

“So which one is it going to be?” she asks.

I know she won’t accept neither of them as an answer.

Eventually I decide on the emerald, even though it costs more. There’s no doubt Matteo will love it.

When I go to pay, I hesitate.

“Use his card,” Bella urges. “That’s why you have it.”

Is that fair if I’m planning to leave?

If?

The thought catches me off guard. A week ago, I was certain. But now, having met his family and spending time with Bella, not to mention my studio and his lovemaking…

In the end, I relent.

Matteo will ask, and if I tell him I paid, he won’t be pleased.

And as he keeps telling me, it’s in my best interest to keep him happy.

Outside, Bella and I hug goodbye.

“Let’s do it again, soon,” she says.

“I look forward to that.” I like having a reason to get out of the house, and the companionship has been wonderful. And meeting with Bella is something Matteo has to agree to.

“Remember, build a community here. Maybe take a class. Don’t let that Moretti man swallow you whole, because he will.”

“Good advice.”

“I’m here for you,” she reminds me. “I mean it. Anything you need. Call anytime. And if you need me urgently, you can always drop by the office.”

I really like her, how down to earth she is, how forthcoming. She seems to understand where I’m at. In a different world, I would enjoy being friends.

When I finally arrive home, Matteo isn’t there.

I should be grateful, but the house feels somewhat empty.

I’m just getting out of the bath when Matteo appears in the doorway, shoulder propped against the jamb. He’s taken off his suit coat, his sleeves are rolled back, exposing part of his Duty First tattoo, and his tie is loosened, just enough to make my mouth go dry. And he’s holding a glass of wine.

“Figured you might want this while dinner is warming up.”

He crosses to me and offers me the drink.

As he leans toward me, I inhale his power and determination.

The sight of him, the scent of him has my head swimming. Maybe I don’t need the wine. But I accept it, just the same. “Thank you.” He claims a kiss as payment. It’s a casual, caring gesture, speaking of the ease that exists between us. His action is a little unnerving, more intimate than our lovemaking has been.

“How did shopping go?”

“I found an engagement dress.”

His eyes flare with approval. “Did you?”

“It’s…” Is there a word for it? “Spectacular.”

“I’d expect no less.”

“And expensive,” I warn.

“Of course. Things that are spectacular usually are.”

I try to prepare him for the shock that’s coming. “Very expensive.”

He narrows his gaze as I take a sip. “Okay,” he says cautiously.

“You may not be so agreeable when you get your credit card bill.”

“Ah.” But he grins. “You billed it to my account?”

“Every penny.” I search his gaze for a reaction. Annoyance, maybe? Then he smiles, and I realize Bella was right about him wanting to make me happy.

“Model it for me?”

“But…” I frown. “Aren’t there rules against that? Like it’s bad luck or something?”

“That only applies to wedding dresses, I’m sure.”

Or he’s making it up.

Once I’m dry, he follows me to my closet.

At the sight of the extravagant dress, he releases a long, slow wolf whistle. “Now put it on so that I can take it off you.”

His phone rings.

With a scowl, he reaches into his pocket to silence the device.

His gaze focused on me, he helps me into the silky confection and zips it up. Then he captures my lips in a blazing kiss filled with intention and promise.

He traces the neckline, and his phone rings again.

“I understand if you need to answer that.”

Through the dress, he cups one of my breasts. “No chance.”

The bedroom door bangs open, shattering our private moment. Nash strides in, his hand on his gun, face pale, his eyes sharp. Chiara and two other men follow, their faces grim.

Frozen in place, I look at Matteo.

In an instant, he has me behind him, protecting me from whatever is going on.

“Boss. Something’s happened.”