29
Mia
Sitting to the left of Sebastiano at our dining table, I fidget with my fork, working up the courage to address something that has been nagging at me since this morning.
”Piccolina?” His voice resonates with a deep, authoritative tone, pulling me from my thoughts.
Taking a deep breath to calm my racing heart, I meet his intense gaze. ”Sebastiano, there”s something I want to ask you.”
He nods with a serious expression, a silent invitation for me to continue.
”It”s about last night when you... came to bed with me,” I begin, my words stumbling out as I struggle to articulate my thoughts.
His brow furrows in confusion, but his expression remains calm, waiting for me to continue.
”I mean, I’m not mad about it,” I rush out, ”but I can”t help but wonder why you did it.”
There”s a moment of silence as Sebastiano seems to process my words, his demeanor contemplative.
”I suppose I haven”t brought it up because... It kinda sounds creepy,” he admits after a pause, his voice carrying an air of authority. ”I guess I just want to be there for you, especially when you”re having trouble sleeping.”
I nod slowly, acknowledging his explanation. ”It umm... it’s been more than once?”
The nightmares come and go, but each one leaves a mark on my soul. Some nights, I bolt upright, heart racing, struggling to shake off the lingering terror. Other nights, I feel confined by the darkness, desperate to escape. Sometimes, I don”t even remember having them.
But now that I think about it, there have been a few nights recently when I”ve felt a comforting presence beside me. I can’t quite explain it, but it’s like a warmth that eases my restless soul-– being wrapped in a protective blanket, shielding me from the bad thoughts. Now I know who my protective shield was.
“More like every night since we’ve been married,” he confesses as if it”s no big deal at all. His words catch me off guard, and I must show it because he reaches across the table, his firm hand holds mine. ”I just thought it was best to be there for you quietly without making it a big deal.”
Does he not realize how much this means to me?
Perhaps he doesn”t want to make a fuss for my sake, or maybe he thinks it”s beneath him to admit to such a kind gesture.
His sincerity softens my heart, and I squeeze his hand gently. ”I appreciate you, Sebastiano. I really do.”
A small, shy smile tugs at the corners of his lips. ”You don”t think it’s creepy as hell?”
”It’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me,” I say, trying to steady my nerves while happiness floods through me and offer him a grateful smile.
Sebastiano gives my hand a reassuring squeeze back, his touch firm but comforting. ”Whatever you need, Piccolina. I”m here for you,” he says like he”s asking me to pass the butter.
Does he care for me, or am I just a pawn to get his title?
The uncertainty that creeps into my brain makes my doubts linger. But for now, I push it aside and cling to the warmth of his presence. For now, that”s enough.
“What are your plans for today?” he asks, breaking me out of my thought bubble.
“Umm, nothing that I can think of,” I tell him, a little surprised that he asked about my day.
He takes a large gulp of his coffee and then looks at me. “I have to go to Elli’s to pick up a few things and talk to my dad. Would you like to join me?
My throat constricts, and the words get stuck on my tongue. Shocked is an understatement. In the few weeks since we tied the knot, Sebastiano has never suggested going anywhere together. While I”ve ventured out solo a couple of times, most outings have involved Nico shadowing me.
As he places his coffee down and turns to me, his lips press tightly together, waiting for my reply. ”Sure,” I manage to say.
He nods, pushing his chair back with a sharp scrape against the floor. Tossing his napkin onto his plate, he shoots me a quick look. ”Good. I”m sure Dad will be happy to see you”re still in one piece,” he says, putting his plate near the sink. “Be ready in an hour,” he calls over his shoulder, walking towards his office.
Now I see why he invited me. It”s not because he wants to spend time together; he just wants to put on a good front for his dad to keep up appearances. I should have known better than to expect anything different. Real life isn”t a fairytale, and I”m far from being a princess. Sebastiano definitely isn’t a hero. He”s more like the villain in this story.
Heading upstairs, I mentally debate my wardrobe options. It”s not just about picking something to put on; I need to find the perfect blend between meeting with my father-in-law at his billion-dollar tech empire and happy wife look. As much as I”d love to rock a burlap sack for its effortless style, I have a feeling it won”t quite appease my husband.
Standing in front of the mirror, I zip up the baby pink Chanel skirt and slide into the matching three-quarter-length sleeve jacket over a cream button-down. I”m feeling some serious Jackie Kennedy vibes. I slip on some cream heels to complete my look and make my way to Sebastiano’s office.
Walking down the hallway, I pause in front of his door, feeling a surge of nerves. Should I just walk in confidently, or should I knock and wait for him to invite me in? As I raise my hand to knock, the door swings open before my knuckles tap the door.
”You”re ready?” Sebastiano asks, his tone more questioning. ”I was just coming to get you.”
”Well, I”m ready when you are,” I reply with a slight smile, trying to mask my nerves. The nerves that just decided to make an appearance now, of all times.
His brown orbs glide over me, starting from my shoes and traveling up until we lock eyes, ending with a sly smirk playing on his lips. It”s clear he approves of my outfit.
Jackie for the win.
”Great, let”s go,” he says, shutting his office door behind us. As we make our way to the car, he places his hand on the small of my back, guiding me forward.
My eyes trail over his navy blue suit, tailored to perfection, hugging his muscles and accentuating his broad shoulders. The sight of him sends a warm sensation coursing through me. He”s not just hot; he”s scorching.
After a short drive, we arrive at Elli Enterprises. We walk into the high-rise, heading toward the elevator. Sebastiano’s hand never once leaves me, remaining firm at my lower back, as though he needs to keep his hands on me, or I”ll bolt away.
When the elevator opens, we head toward Don Antonio’s office, only to be greeted by a young woman who can”t be much older than I am.
“Who are you?” Sebastiano barks at the poor girl. I grab his hand, hoping he’ll take the hint and be polite.
“I’m sorry, we”re here to––” Another outburst cuts off my words from Sebastiano.
He lets go of my hand, placing his arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him, almost protectively. I’m not sure why he feels the need to be protective over a girl my size. “I asked who you are?”
“My name is Olivia. I am filling in until Cindy returns,” she says politely.
I extend my hand to her, “Hi Olivia, I”m Mia.” shaking her hand. She offers me a warm smile but keeps her eyes directed towards Sebastiano.
”If you”d like to have a seat, I”ll let Mr. Morelli know you”re here,” she says as she gestures toward the lounge behind us.
Sebastiano looks like he wants to tell her no or barge into the office. But before he can act, the door to Don Antonio”s office swings open. ”Thank you, Olivia.” Don Antonio”s voice booms from within. ”This is my son. Come in.”
Sebastiano lets out a frustrated sigh, his hand running through his hair in agitation.
”You didn”t have to scare the poor girl,” Don Antonio mutters. ”She”s just a temp.”
Sebastiano raises an eyebrow, and I cross my arms over my chest. ”And why does that matter?”
He meets his gaze with a steely one of his own. ”In all the years this company has been open, nobody else aside from Cindy has been sitting at that desk.”
As we step into his office, the door clicks shut behind us. ”Cindy”s sick,” he begins, ”It”s a busy week, and I couldn”t afford to be down a receptionist. There wasn”t time to move things around.”
Then, as if realizing my presence, he turns his attention to me, his expression softening. ”Mia,” he says warmly, closing the distance between us with large strides. ”I”m so glad you”re here.” His arms reach out instinctively, drawing me into a warm hug. I hug him back, allowing his big fatherly bear hug to envelop me.
”Alright, that”s enough with the hugs. Let”s dial it back a bit, yeah?” Sebastiano says to Don Antonio, breaking the embrace. But it”s too late; I”m already engulfed in the warmth of the hug, feeling oddly comforted by the unexpected gesture from Don Antonio.
When I release myself from Don Antonio”s embrace, Sebastiano immediately pulls me to his side. His grip is firm, almost possessive. If I didn”t know any better, I would think he was jealous.
We chat for a bit, covering everything from the weather to recent news and events. Each topic seems to flow seamlessly into the next, as if we”ve known each other for much longer than we have. I mean, they have, but I”m new to the family. Sebastiano”s attitude is what surprises me most. He”s relaxed and even cracking jokes with his dad. It”s funny to see this side of them––the humorous and playful side––given their reputation as the big bad mafia boss, and considering he”s got this whole tough-guy vibe going on.
After some light banter, a few men walk in, mentioning something about loading the equipment requested and assuring that it”s in Sebastiano’s car. I wasn”t aware that we were picking anything up, but then again, I wasn”t exactly told why we were coming here to begin with.
Now that the car is loaded, Sebastiano tells his dad we”re heading out. Don Antonio embraces me in another hug, telling me he hopes to see us both soon. It feels like he”s happy that I”m a part of his family. I hold back the tears threatening to come out because I don”t want to embarrass myself. Sebastiano might not ask me to go anywhere with him again if I cry on the first outing.
We slide into the car, and my eyes catch the sight of several boxes in the backseat. They look like some sort of camera equipment, their sleek design, standing out against the car”s interior.
”I have to drop these off before we head home,” Sebastiano mentions casually, motioning toward the boxes with his thumb.
Pulling up to the docks, I spot Enzo and Dario waiting for us. Unsure whether I should stay put or follow Sebastiano out, I decide to join him as we step out onto the pavement.
Meeting me outside my door, Sebastiano takes charge. ”There”s ten to install,” he tells them. ”Make sure it”s done tonight, and the feed goes directly to me. I don”t even want Greg to know about this.”
The men nod in agreement, acknowledging Sebastiano”s instructions with a simple ”Got it, Boss” before removing the boxes from the car. Neither of them spares me a glance or a single word as if I”m invisible to them. It”s not like the warm welcome I received from Don Antonio earlier, leaving me feeling a bit sidelined and out of place.
We settle back into the car. I sit in silence, my thoughts swirling with a sense of dejection. I glance out the window, trying to mask the slight feeling of gloom creeping in.
Sebastiano breaks the silence, his voice cutting through the quiet car. ”What”s wrong with you?” he asks, stealing a glance in my direction before refocusing on the road ahead.
”Nothing,” I reply, but my gaze remains fixed on the passing scenery outside. I try to brush off the unease settling in my chest, telling myself it”s nothing to dwell on.
Sebastiano”s tone sharpens. ”What did I tell you about lying to me?”
”It”s stupid,” I concede, shifting in my seat to face him. His eyes meet mine briefly before returning to the road, his expression unreadable as always. I hesitate, then continue, ”It”s just... I felt like I wasn”t even there.”
”Why? Because my men didn”t speak to you?” Sebastiano”s question cuts in, and I can”t help but nod, feeling a pang of embarrassment wash over me. His response is blunt and cold. ”They know their place. They aren’t here to be nice. They’re here to do a job and make sure you’re okay if anything happens to me.”
My stomach drops at his words. ”What do you mean, if anything happens to you?” I repeat, fear creeping into my voice.
Sebastiano”s expression remains stoic as he elaborates, his tone eerily calm. ”I mean, if I get hurt or killed. Ideally, I”ll be alive and well until I have a son to pass everything down to. But we both stand firm on the kid thing, so Enzo would run things until everything is passed to Nico.”
The reality of his words hits me like a ton of bricks. ”A-And what happens to me?” I ask, my voice trembling with uncertainty.
”You”d be a free woman,” he responds matter-of-factly. ”Enzo would make sure you have enough to relocate and move on.”
”Move on?” I repeat, sounding more bitter than I intended to. ”So again, I have no say in what happens to me and my life?”
Sebastiano”s demeanor shifts slightly, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes as he speaks. ”That”s just how it goes. Why? Do you want to be in charge of the Morelli mafioso if I get shot or die?” he asks sarcastically, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. ”No woman has ever been in charge, but you’d make one sexy Donna.” His hand rests gently on my thigh, giving a gentle squeeze.
I shake my head vehemently. ”I wouldn”t know how to run a mafia. I”m just saying I”d like to be able to make decisions for myself.”
”If it makes you feel better, you can make any decision you’d like.” His response is nonchalant, almost dismissive. “Just don”t start planning my death so soon. I plan to stick around for a while.”
The idea of planning his death is ludicrous; we”ve only been married for a short while, after all. But I keep my thoughts to myself, letting my mind wander aimlessly. Lost in my thoughts, I don”t even realize that we”ve parked the car until I look up and see Peccato, one of the trendy bars and restaurants near Magnificent Mile.
I look up at him questioningly, but my lips remain sealed. Without a word, he exits the car, leaving me momentarily confused. When I open the door, his hand extends to assist me out. I gingerly place my small hand in his large one, but before I can react further, his other arm snakes around my waist, pulling me closer to him. His grip isn”t tight or painful, but it”s firm, asserting his presence.
Pressing me against the car, he leans in, his forehead meeting mine in a silent exchange. ”It was a joke, Piccolina,” he murmurs before his lips capture mine in a passionate kiss, and the world around us fades away, his delicious scent enveloping me entirely.
Instinctively, my arms loop around his neck, pulling him closer. I can feel the hardness of his bulge against my belly, sending tingles of pleasure coursing through my veins, the needy ache between my legs only growing.
He pulls away with a sly smirk gracing his lips. ”Thought you could take a break from planning my demise,” he teases, reaching for my hand.