14. Summer #2
Her father let out a stunned exhale. “Santa brought you a cat ?”
She lifted the two-year-old tabby cat into her arms. “I love him!”
“Her,” I corrected.
Matteo trained his sharp gaze on me. “ Her ?”
“Yeah.” My cringe was audible. It hadn’t really occurred to me until this moment that I probably should have asked for permission before buying his daughters a pet.
Then another thought struck me.
“Nobody’s allergic, are they?”
“Not that I know of.” He shook his head slowly.
Bianca took off running. “I’m going to show Cookie my room!”
The minute she was gone, Matteo arched a dark eyebrow. “A cat?”
My brows drew down. “Wait. Why are you acting so surprised if she already scratched you?”
He stared at me in confusion. “What?”
I gestured to his bandaged forearm. “You said you got clawed.”
Slowly, he peeled away the gauze to reveal his wounds.
Instead of long scratches you’d expect to see as the handiwork of a cat, there was a set of crescent-shaped nail marks decorating his olive skin, and my eyes went wide as realization sank in.
That’s where the blood had come from when I’d been jerking him off.
“ I did that?“ The words fell from my lips on a disbelieving exhale.
Matteo’s lips folded inward as he fought a smile. “You sure did.”
“Oh my God,” I groaned, covering my face. “I’m so sorry. I—“
“Don’t be. I wear these marks as a badge of honor.”
It looked like we’d both walked away from that encounter a little worse for wear.
“Now that we’ve cleared that up,” Matteo began, “how about we circle back to the live cat ‘Santa’ brought Bianca?”
I blew out a heavy breath. “Yeah, sorry about that. She’s been having nightmares—“
“I know.” He hung his head. It was clear to see that his daughter’s emotional distress weighed heavily on him.
“While doing some research on how best to support her, I came across an article that promoted the benefits of having a cat as an emotional support animal. I thought it might be worth a try.”
Matteo stared at me for so long that I began to squirm.
“Look, if I’ve overstepped—“
He held up a hand, effectively cutting me off. Scooping up Serafina, he shuffled on his knees toward where I sat.
“Summer.” His voice broke as he whispered my name. “First, you literally save her life, and now this? I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank you.”
“Well, you did kinda fork out a boatload of cash to pay off my debts,” I teased.
“It’s not enough. Hell, I could sign over my entire empire, and it wouldn’t be enough. I don’t know what I would have done if—if—“ His words trailed off as his chest heaved.
“Hey,” I said softly, letting him bury his face in my chest. “You don’t have to worry about any of that. She’s right here. She’s safe.”
Matteo lifted his head, giving me a view of his glassy eyes. “Because of you .”
There was no point in dwelling on the past, but it was understandable that he had residual trauma from the day I had to pull Bianca out of the pool, unconscious and not breathing. I’d be more worried if he remained completely unaffected.
I allowed myself the luxury of letting my fingers carve a path through his thick hair. “Matteo?”
His eyes slid closed, and he hummed. “Hmm?”
A corner of my lips twitched before I asked, “Do you need me to buy you an emotional support cat too?”
That sexy man’s head tipped back, and laughter spilled freely from his lips. Serafina stared up at her dad and began to giggle, clapping her tiny hands.
When his gaze dropped to meet mine, Matteo shook his head. “I think I can survive without the cat, just so long as I have my emotional support Summer nearby.”
I pursed my lips, sucking in a hissing breath. “Ooh. I hear those are awfully hard to come by.”
“Tell me about it,” he huffed out. “You wouldn’t believe the lengths I had to go to in order to secure one.”
Playfully rolling my eyes, I leaned in closer. “Right, because you’re not the type of man who always gets what he wants.”
A wolfish grin curved on his face. “Okay, maybe I am.”
“Maybe?” I arched an eyebrow.
“Definitely am,” he conceded, dropping his head to my breasts once more and wrapping his free arm around my waist to pull me closer. “Mmm. Yep, I feel so much better already.”
My eyes lifted to the ceiling, but I couldn’t contain my smile. The world might fear him, but here at home, he was simply a man who loved his daughters more than anything in this world and—for reasons I couldn’t understand—had set his sights on me.
“I said I was going to make dinner.”
Matteo fixed me with a glare when I began to ease off the stool at the kitchen island, and like I was hardwired to obey, I sat my ass back down.
Some might call it overbearing that he’d outright demanded that I not lift a finger after last night’s extracurriculars, but secretly, I loved it.
The mafia boss cared that much about little old me? What kind of reality was I living in?
Folding both arms over his broad chest, he retorted, “And I said I’ve got it handled.”
I rolled my eyes, eliciting a growl from the man standing opposite me.
“You’d better think real carefully about copping an attitude with me, dolcezza . You’re in no condition to be punished right now, but that won’t be enough to stop me from putting you over my knee.”
Guess that answered that question. Mr. Hot Daddy CEO did give out spankings.
Never in my life had I been more tempted to act like a brat and stick out my tongue in response to his warning.
But then I remembered how badly it currently hurt to even do so much as walk, and I held back.
Because if last night proved anything, it was that he didn’t issue idle threats.
He would absolutely spank my ass raw, and I couldn’t wait until I recovered enough to beg for the pleasure of experiencing that.
“Smart girl,” Matteo praised before turning to open the fridge.
When he bumped the stainless-steel door with his hip to close it, I got a good look at the ingredients he held.
Eggs, milk, butter, bacon.
Then he headed to the giant walk-in pantry and returned with flour, sugar, and baking powder.
My brows drew down. “Uh . . .”
Matteo peeked over his shoulder as he retrieved mixing bowls from one of the cabinet drawers. “Problem?”
“What in the world are you planning to make?” I mean, it was fairly obvious, but I wouldn’t be able to believe it until he said it.
“The plan was pancakes, eggs, and bacon, but I can do French toast instead if you’d prefer.”
A stunned exhale escaped my parted lips. “For Christmas dinner?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Sure, why not? I don’t know about you, but I’m running on fumes, and keeping dinner informal enough that we can stay in our pajamas sounds like heaven.”
Almost as if on cue, a giant yawn split my face. Okay, maybe the man had a point.
Matteo gestured to the elaborate coffee machine, which took up a giant chunk of counter space. “Need a pick-me-up?”
I rested my arms atop the island. “Sure, why not? Could probably drink a gallon of the stuff right about now and still sleep like a baby tonight.”
Immediately, he went to work, fixing me a cup. “Speaking of sleeping babies. I never got around to asking what kind of voodoo magic you worked on Serafina.”
My head tilted to the side. “What are you talking about?”
Turning around, he leaned against the countertop. “Ever since the day you moved in, she’s been sleeping through the night.”
I shrugged. “Nothing special, really. It’s the same routine every night: bath, bottle, and bed. Probably just a coincidence that my arrival lined up with her achieving that milestone.”
“I don’t believe in coincidences.”
Snorting, I teased, “Is this the part where you tell me you make your own luck, too?”
A smirk tugged onto his lips. “Considering I’m usually the one wielding the gun and have no problem taking out anyone who poses even the slightest threat to me, my family, or my businesses? Yeah, I’d say that’s a pretty accurate statement.”
Yep, it was a total turn-on hearing the lengths he was willing to go in order to protect what was his.
He handed me a steaming mug, and I brought it to my lips, moaning when the rich flavor burst across my tastebuds.
A lewd groan had my eyes lifting to find Matteo staring at me with so much heat in his eyes that I felt my core temperature rising.
“You’re fucking killing me, Summer. Do you know what I wouldn’t give to lift you onto this island, peel those leggings down your thighs, and bury my face in your—“
“Ho, ho, ho!”
That was the only warning we got before Enzo sauntered into the kitchen, a giant bag of toys slung over his shoulder.
He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw how we were dressed. “I didn’t get my days mixed up, did I? This is Christmas, right?”
Matteo ignored his cousin, focusing on making the pancake batter, so I answered Enzo’s question. “Yes, it’s Christmas. We just decided to keep things . . . casual.”
“Casual.” He drew out the word slowly. “All right, then. I’ll be right back.” Dropping the bag of toys, he turned on his heel and left the room.
“Where’s he going?” I asked Matteo.
“Don’t know. Don’t fucking care.” The tension lining his neck told me everything I needed to know. He was pissed that Enzo had interrupted the little moment we were having.
By the time Matteo poured the first batch of batter onto the hot pan, Enzo reappeared. He’d swapped out his collared shirt and dress pants for a long-sleeved Henley and joggers, though the color scheme remained the same. The man was always dressed head to toe in black.
Tossing me a wink, he explained, “I’d have joined in on the pajama party, but I sleep naked.”
“Enzo! For fuck’s sake!” Matteo yelled.
“What?” Enzo held both hands up. “It’s true.”
“You know what else is true? Me losing my appetite because you put the mental picture of you naked in my brain.”
Enzo scoffed. “Please, like you haven’t seen it before.”
My eyes went wide. “Are we talking, like, a communal shower situation at the gym or more along the lines of sharing women?”