13. Antonio
Chapter thirteen
Antonio
D eath isn’t a thought that crosses my mind easily, but ever since the dinner with Horatio and Mattheo, it seems to be a regular occurrence. It crosses my mind just as often as the thought of food, if not more. But, for once, they aren’t the reason for my thoughts. I’ve never slept so deeply, so soundly, that I have to wonder if I died briefly. I wake up and feel the sun’s warmth streaming through the wide-open curtains.
The curtains should’ve been closed. I always close the curtains. I shift under the blankets, hoping to cover my head, but a weight stops me.
I groan as I open my eyes and come face to face with a head of soft curls sprawled across my chest.
Theresa.
My heartbeat picks up, and I freeze, replaying the scenes of last night.
Fuck.
She shifts and wraps her arm across my torso, pulling herself closer into my side and draping a leg over me. The warmth of her soft flesh draping across my thighs brings back the memory of the tiny chemise she got into bed with, and how it’s probably riding up around her waist.
Double fuck.
I bring a hand to my eyes and rub them until I see stars.
“Oh, you’re so fucked.” My head shoots up as I try to keep the rest of my body completely still, not wanting to wake her.
Mattia stands in the doorway leaning against the frame, a smirk plastered on his lips.
“What the fuck are you doing here? How did you get in?” I whisper-yell at him, still trying not to wake Theresa.
He holds up a keycard. “You didn’t think we’d leave you here alone, did you?”
I stay silent because contrary to what my dear cousins just said, yes. I thought they would leave me here alone, at least for a few days, until I settled in.
“Come downstairs when you’re done jerking off.”
Motherfucker.
I count my lucky stars that Theresa stirs and turns to the opposite side of the bed, leaving me free to get up. I reach into my shorts and readjust so that my problem isn’t obvious to Mattia.
I need to calm down. Yes, she’s attractive—anyone with eyes could see that—but I cannot be physically attracted to her. Being physically attracted is just going to lead to complications, and right now, I have more than enough of those without my body reacting this way, too.
When I get downstairs, Mattia is staring out the large windows that overlook most of Monte Carlo. He’s dressed in the usual Vitale business casual style: a sweater vest, shirt, and slacks.
“You guys had one job: make sure there were two rooms with two beds,” I say.
“Technically, you just said two rooms.” He turns to face the window. “It’s nice here,” he says, brushing over what I just said.
“It’s Monaco. Of course it’s nice.”
“But it’s not home,” Mattia says, turning to face me. He meets my eye with a knowing glance. I haven’t been home in just under six months, and the closest thing to home was everyone being at the wedding last night. It’s been incredibly uncomfortable, and all I want is to be in my room. I miss just being able to wake up and walk to the beach. To go for a run and take a dip in the ocean before heading to work. I miss running by Giovanni’s and bumping into Kaia. I even miss Vitale Holdings and all the never-ending meetings with clients.
I haven’t even spoken to a client since my last call with Clive in Mauritius. I should probably call him back and get Mattia to fill me in on what’s been happening. There’s probably so much I need to catch up on and sort out, not to mention the mess the media has probably made of my sudden marriage.
“C’mon, I’ll make you a coffee.” I shove all the thoughts to the back of my head. “So, has Gabriel made any plans clear to you yet?” Mattia’s voice drops an octave, not wanting to be heard by Theresa.
And that is my number one problem. Ever since Gabriel made his intentions clear at the wedding, it feels as if I’m constantly on edge, just waiting for the next ball to drop.
“He introduced me to an art curator, a friend of Mattheo’s,” I start as I set up the coffee machine with three mugs.
“Do you think that’s how they move the money? Art?” Mattia asks, taking a seat at the marble island in the centre of the kitchen.
“It would make sense. He mentioned something about an art event with Horatio.” If I never heard his name again, it would be too fucking soon. I should’ve trusted Adriano more when he said he had a bad feeling about Horatio last year.
“Ambrose is in France this week,” he says as I slide his cup over to him. “Just some meetings to gather intel, nothing too crazy,” he continues.
“Where are you staying? You know, since you’re now my babysitter.”
“One floor down.” He takes the keycard out of his pocket, but I hold up my hand to stop him.
“Keep it. Just in case anything happens and you need to get in here.”
“Nothing is going to happen. We have this under control.”
“Aside from you and Adriano, I don’t have much faith in my brothers.” I sigh, leaning against the counter and rubbing my hand against the fabric of my shorts.
“Good thing Adriano and I are in charge then.” I see Mattia grin.
“I’m doomed.”
“Listen, there’s a reason I stopped by. We have some work to do for Vitale Holdings…” he trails off.
Light footsteps heading down the stairs cause both of us to change the topic at lightning speed.
“This is good. Where is it from?” Mattia starts talking about the coffee just as Theresa stumbles into the kitchen.
My mouth dries as I take in her appearance, the satin chemise is all wrinkled and twisted, her brown, fluffy curls all piled high in a bun on her head, and the slightest outline of her pebbled nipples peek through the fabric.
Fuck.
She freezes immediately noticing Mattia’s presence and wraps her arms around her chest, making me grit my teeth.
I hate that she’s uncomfortable here when it’s supposed to be just as much my house as it is hers.
“I’ll be downstairs. Text me when you’re ready.” Like the best man he is, he takes his cue and immediately exits, offering Theresa a brief good morning, but barely making eye contact as he does.
“Good morning,” she grumbles, taking a seat on the island.
I slide a cup of coffee over to her, and she stares at me in surprise. “Good morning, tesoro . The fridge is fully stocked. I would stay with you for breakfast, but I have to head out with Mattia for a few hours.” I watch her roll her eyes at the nickname I bestowed upon her last night.
“And what am I supposed to do?”
“What do you usually do?” I rest both my palms on the counter in front of me.
“I don’t know, read, exercise, watch TV.”
“There’s also a pool on the deck.” I point behind her, and her head whips in the direction. “A gym behind the stairs, and as for reading, I had your sister send your books over, so they’re in the library.”
“Library?” Her head whips back, her coffee-brown eyes wide in surprise.
“Yes. After our little encounter on my first night, I noticed how much you enjoy reading. It’s not exceptionally full, but I’m sure you’ll fix that.”
She stares at me, a bit dazed, as she takes in what I’ve just said. She looks adorable, and in all honesty, I can’t help but wonder how much of last night she remembers. “Is there anything else you want to ask me? ” I ask.
“You know it’s risky meeting with your family, right?”
“Why do you say that?” I raise a brow, surprised by her giving warning.
“You and your brothers have already played right into his plan,” she says.
Thump. Thump.
My heartbeat picks up again. I stare at her blankly as I try to figure out what exactly her father’s plan could be. This is the other shoe dropping. It has to be.
She rolls her eyes and sips the coffee before grimacing. “God, you Italians are no fun. Don’t you have vanilla syrup or something other than espresso?”
It’s my turn to grimace at her words now. The most I’ll allow to happen to my espresso is for it to turn into a cappuccino or latte, but no syrups.
“No.” I grit my teeth. Of course, my wife wants to commit horrendous crimes against caffeine.
“Anyway,” she pushes the cup to the centre of the island, “since I have to spell it out for you: my father wants more connections. And what do you have, Mr. Perfect? Ample connections. And by choosing to live here in Monaco instead of France, you’ll bring them all right into neutral territory. Usually, my father wouldn’t be able to speak to any of them due to the Cosa Nostra’s control, but you’ve left the door wide open for fair game.”
Fuck. And here Ambrose thought he was just being petty by inviting so many guests, when in reality, he was giving Gabriel the biggest networking event he’s ever had.
And double fuck because even Theresa was smart enough to figure this all out while we’ve been parading some of our closet connections around.
“Or did they? I chose to move here for my own reasons.”
“And what was that? Because, in case you’ve forgotten, he has men everywhere,” she points out.
Panic surges through me. It’s like the rug is being pulled from beneath me and all my control is lost. Or at least the control I thought I had.
“I know, so I had two choices. Either have him looking over my shoulder every second in that manor or at least have a sense of peace in my own home.”
She bursts out laughing. If it were under different circumstances, I might have thought the sound was rather attractive, but right now, it’s mocking and sends a shiver down my spine.
“What?” I question when her laughter eventually dies down.
“Nothing, I guess you aren’t that perfect after all. All looks and no brains. My God, you are an idiot.”
I furrow my brows and glare at her. She’s really laughing at me right now, at this situation.
“You think he isn’t watching right now? That he doesn’t have men in every inch of this city?”
“What makes you think we don’t?” I raise a brow, my patience wearing thin with her. “Let me make this crystal clear, Theresa. I may be polite, but don’t push me farther than you can handle. Your life is still in my hands, and we both know I’m capable of taking a life when I need to.”
Warm liquid flies into my face seconds later, and I thank God it wasn’t a fresh cup.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she seethes.
“Too soon?” I raise a brow, my voice laced with a mocking tone. “I thought you didn’t care for Mattheo.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m okay with you threatening my life,” she all but screams.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Theresa.” My voice softens as I quickly realise in my panic I may have started to sound like a serial killer. Great.
I grab a dishcloth and wipe my face before rounding the island to her. She sits frozen in her spot, and I feel bad for scaring her, I really do, but I need her to understand my next words clearly. So I cage her in place with my arms and lower my mouth to her ear. The blend of the coffee aroma radiating off me and her lingering, sweet vanilla scent has me starving to touch her.
Fuck, I need to get away from her soon.
“You may not like me or the situation, Theresa, but if I have to fake it to keep my family safe, best believe you’ll be faking it down to the moans. You’ll make it as believable as you need to. Your father is the least of your worries anymore. You are mine now.”
“I’m not something you can just possess. I’m a person. And like I said, he’s watching, he wouldn't let you hurt me.” She pushes me off her and rises to her feet.
“Your father sold you off like a possession. What makes you think he cares all that much?”
She steps back as if my words physically hit her. “You’re no better than him…I was clearly out of my mind last night because I’ll never be stupid enough to let that happen again. Make sure to get me a bed or sleep on the couch tonight,” she says, storming out of the kitchen.
Great job, Antonio.