Chapter 4 – Ten Years Later - Age 37
MATTEO
The room’s filled with a hum of voices, people scattered all around the gallery I own.
The event black-tie and the attendees definitely lived up to the dress code.
My brother Dom runs a charity event every year for various organizations, and this time it’s for Helping Hand, the nonprofit Jade runs.
All the money from my art sold today will be donated to help women just like Aida.
This isn’t the first event I’ve held here. The gallery has grown in popularity in the past years. It’s top three in the city and I’ve sold many of my own sketches and paintings.
Doing something I love, there’s nothing like it. And owning this, having something that’s mine, I can’t explain it. I never thought I’d ever be here—two kids now, and Aida.
My God, I love her.
She doesn’t notice while I stare at her from across the room, a long strappy white gown tight around her curvy body, a modest slit up to her knee.
Cyres is in her arms. She’s three and prefers her mother hold her still.
But Aida, she doesn’t mind. She’s patient.
She’s loving. I can’t help but fall in love with her more every day that we grow older.
She’s my muse. My inspiration. She doesn’t realize how true that is, even when I constantly remind her.
That long blonde hair flirts across the small of her back, and I have every urge to take her to the back room and rip that damn dress to shreds.
“Fuck,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair, not giving a shit that I probably messed it up. “What was that, sir?” Coby, one of my assistants, asks, standing next to me, tapping on the tablet, where he keeps track of the sales.
“Nothing,” I say. “Just thinking out loud. But how are you doing? You okay?” I cant my head forward. “Working too hard?”
“I’m doing good, sir.”
“How are we doing so far tonight?” I face the two sketches hanging on the wall before me. It’s a drawing of two faces merged into one—one part poignant, the other part cheerful. It’s about the multidimensionality of humanity. How we aren’t just one thing or another.
“Great, sir,” he informs. He looks down at the screen, pressing a few keys. “We made two hundred million so far.”
“That’s great.” I nod, knowing how much good that will do for Jade’s center.
He goes to make more rounds with the guests, the place large enough to fit one hundred people. Soft music plays in the background, and I just want to grab my wife and dance the night away. We made a life for ourselves, and goddamn it’s beautiful.
A ten-year-old Cecilia clutches Dante’s hand as they look at a painting I did of her a few years ago, her hair long and blonde like her mother’s.
It billows in the air, her arms up to the sky as she spins upon the greenest grass, butterflies of all colors dancing with her.
The clouds are dark, the storm coming in.
But she’s dancing anyway, because sometimes that’s what we have to do to make it through the darkness.
“Someone bought that one,” I tell my daughter, and as she winds toward me, I swoop lower to kiss her on the forehead.
“How could they not?” Dante asks with awe in his voice.
“Thanks,” I say, pushing away the compliment. It’s never been my thing. I just do what I do, hoping it brings something meaningful to someone else.
“I wish I could paint as well as you, Daddy.” Cecilia sighs.
“And I wish I could dance as well as you, angel.” She is some dancer. Her ballet teacher says she can try out for one of the top dance schools in the city.
“Sir.” Coby walks up to us just then, his thick black brows practically sweating. “There’s a woman there who’d like to speak to you about two of your paintings.”
“Who?” When he points, my attention wanders to a tall woman, not much older than me, her eyes on the black roses with a green serpent among them. “What’s her name?” I ask.
“Stella Emmon.”
“Emmon?” Dante’s brows rise. “As in Emmon Corp? The dress designer?” His stare widens. “She’s rich as hell.”
It’s then I find Aida, strolling up to her, dropping Cyres who goes to one of my assistants. Aida probably recognized the woman. I know nothing about fashion or business. I let Aida help me with that when she’s not busy teaching elementary kids.
They get to talking. Aida’s radiant smile has the woman laughing at something she said. I start toward them, steps away, until I’m right behind her. I kiss the back of her head, deeply inhaling her floral perfume, my arm circling around to her front.
“Hey, darling,” she says, turning, greeting me with an infectious smile, her palm falling to my bicep. And when she touches me, even after all these years, it’s hard not to let it affect me. My muscle there flexes on instinct and my cock begins to harden.
Fuck, now is not the time.
But after this is over—she’s mine.
“Hey, baby.” My mouth ticks up at the corner.
She clears her throat, those cheeks flushing crimson. “I’d like you to meet Ms. Emmon. She was just telling me what a huge fan she is of your work.”
“Thank you.” I politely nod, stretching out a hand for her, and she shakes it, her grip a little too tight, her gaze a little too warm.
I think she’s after a lot more than my art. Unfortunately for her, cheating on my wife is not on the table.
“Oh, I most certainly am a fan, Mr. Cavaleri.” Her bright red lips thin, her eyes glued to mine.
“I’ve been following your work for many years now and I’ve been dying to own some of your art for my studios.
” She pivots toward the painting, Aida and I doing the same.
“I mean, this is exquisite. It would look divine in my Soho store, don’t you think? ”
She glances at me over her shoulder, her hand going to my forearm. “You’re a very talented man,” she purrs, her long, clearly fake lashes flapping as she angles her body toward me, right around Aida, like she isn’t even there.
I courteously maneuver myself so that her hand slips right off me, and I use that same arm to tuck my wife against my side. “Thank you very much, Ms. Emmon. I’m grateful for you and everyone else who could be here tonight for such a great cause.”
This pure attempt at flirting makes me hate her. If this wasn’t for charity, I’d throw her out. I have no patience for unprofessionalism. I’m sure she can find someone else to screw tonight. It just won’t be me.
“Of course.” She waves dismissively with an unattractive giggle. “We must do what we can for the lesser privileged.”
The way she said that—it was like she was talking about helping the peasants. How does someone like that look at themselves in the mirror? To think they’re so much better than others?
“Please look around and let my assistant, Coby”—I point him out—“know which pieces you’d like to purchase.”
She nods, fixing the sheer sleeve of her powder-blue ankle dress. Without a second thought, I take my wife’s hand and we march away toward Enzo and Dom, their wives with them as they huddle and chat.
“I think she wanted to fuck you,” Aida whispers with a giggle.
“Hmm, did she?” Amusement flits in my voice.
“Oh, please. Like you didn’t know.”
I grip her wrist and spin her flush against me. I cup her jaw and brush my lips with hers, groaning as she lets a little moan slip.
“It’s too bad that I only have eyes for you,” I breathe. “You own every single part of me, Aida. And I wouldn’t change that for the world.”
“So,” she whispers, biting on her lower lip as her lips flirt with a tiny smile. “You’ve never wanted to sleep with another woman?” The words slip softly from her mouth.
“Not ever, baby. Not when I have you. And you?” I pop a brow. “Have you wanted to fuck another man, Aida?” My knuckles brush under her chin and her bedroom eyes greet me.
She throws her arms around my nape. “Why would I ever wanna do that?” She rises a few inches on her low heels and kisses my mouth.
My eyes fall to a languid close as I taste her breath on my tongue. My entire body hums with contentment, with need, and affection. When she parts her lips from mine, it’s as though I’m empty, needing them back.
“You’ve been my best friend for my whole life, Matteo.” My palm wraps around the back of her head, my forehead falling to hers. “And you, being my husband, it’s something that little girl once only dreamed about. Being with you every day”—she sighs—“in our bed, there’s nowhere else I’d want to be.”
I clench my jaw. “You make my heart weep with how much I love you.” My voice throbs with emotion. “When they’re all gone, I’m gonna ask Dom to take the kids.”
My thumb brushes against her cheek.
“Why’s that?” she breathes, backing off a fraction, her eyes boring into mine.
“Because I want you out of that dress,” I growl under my breath. “In nothing but that diamond necklace and those heels on.”
She sucks in a gasping moan. “And what’s going to happen then?”
“Then, Mrs. Cavaleri, I’m going to draw you . . .” I let my hand trace from her arm down to her hip where my hand grips her possessively. “And after that, I’m gonna fuck the shit out of you. Does that answer your question?”
“Ahh, yeah . . .” Her breathing gets shallow. “Quite well.”
“Good.” I smirk, enjoying her discomfort. “Let’s go and sell some more paintings so that there’s nothing left for them to stay for.”
AIDA
We’re finally alone, nothing but the music left, resonating with soft notes into the back of the room where we both are. He’s locked the door behind him, just in case, even when the gallery has long been closed.
He leans against the door, the tux wrapped tight around the muscular form of his body. He seems to enjoy the gym, while I enjoy watching him enjoy the gym. We have equipment in the basement of our home, and I much prefer watching him work out than doing it myself.
His eyes wander down my body, my nipples beading under the thin material of my dress. The way he looks at me, it’s like he’s ready to devour me right on this floor.