Matteo

Chapter 6 Stella

STELLA

I pick up the nearest vase and throw it at the wall, screaming out loud as the petals fall to the floor, but nothing drowns out the noises in my head.

I pick up a lamp and chuck it at the wall too, shattering it into a million pieces.

I don’t stop, not until everything has been torn asunder.

I’m so goddamn angry, but nothing helps to rein in my rage.

I let this man barge into my life, steal me away, all under the guise of being safe from Lucio, while being transported to an actual prison of my own making.

I should have known better than to trust this Mafia don.

Now I’m locked up in this gilded room, staring at the glass pieces scattered all around me. God, what a mess my life has become.

I sink down to the floor as it suddenly becomes hard to breathe. My throat clamps up, my heart rate shoots up, and I clutch my waist to attempt to ground myself. It doesn’t work. My breathing comes in faster and faster, and nothing helps to control it.

“Oh God, no, not now. Please, not now,” I beg to myself.

But my body doesn’t listen to me. I lean forward and focus on the floor as everything begins to spin, while it literally feels like I’m dying inside.

I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.

My lungs suck in air, but it feels like the oxygen is escaping me. It’s a panic attack.

Come on, Stella, breathe slowly, you can do it.

I wobble back and forth on the floor.

This will pass, I tell myself. Just focus.

I breathe into my palms to stave off hyperventilation and think about my mother’s smile, which always makes me happy. After a few minutes, the panic attack finally subsides, and I stare at the mess I’ve made while tears slowly cascade down my cheeks. I feel terrible.

Suddenly, my lock turns and the door opens. I glance up at the maid’s face, who blankly stares ahead at the destruction I’ve caused.

“Oh dear,” she says. “What happened?”

“I … I …” I stutter.

“Good God.” She steps inside and closes the door behind her. “Let me clean all this up.”

She brushes some of the glass pieces together with a broom, but the judgmental look in her eyes makes me feel so damn guilty about what I’ve just done that I can only mutter, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

I crawl toward the glass and start picking it up by hand because I don’t want her to have to do all this extra work because of my anger toward Matteo.

“Oh no, ma’am, please don’t,” she says. “You don’t have to help me.”

“No, no,” I say, sniffing. “It’s fine. I made this mess. I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault.”

She tries to stop me. “Ma’am, please don’t. You could get a—”

I hiss as I retract my hand. One of the large shards left a giant cut in my palm.

“Oh no, I’ll go grab the first-aid kit. Be right back.” She drops the broom and rushes out the door, leaving it unlocked and wide open.

My heart rate shoots up again as I stare at the open door.

It’s the only way out of this prison. I have to try.

I immediately crawl to my feet and bolt out the door without thinking. But the second I turn left into the hallway, I bump straight into Matteo.

Shit.

I look up into his gorgeous eyes and the gently tipped smile of his as he looks down at me from underneath his eyelashes, like he caught me red-handed.

“Sorry, I ...”

My words are interrupted when he grabs my wrist, and I’m almost ready to kick him in the balls when he brings my hand up to his face and looks at the wound on my arm. Suddenly, I don’t know how to function anymore.

“You’re bleeding,” he says.

Before I can retract my hand, he drags me with him. “Come with me.”

Right then, Sarah hurries back to my room and shouts, “Wait, I have the first-aid box here.”

Matteo glances at her over his shoulder. “No need, I’ll take care of this myself.”

He hauls me to a bathroom down the hallway, which is gigantic and has an actual floor bath, as well as two waterfall showers right next to each other. Everything is made of marble, with light cascading from a window above, and it looks almost like a Roman bathhouse.

“Wow,” I mutter to myself.

This must be his bathroom.

He sits me down on a chair in a corner, then grabs some supplies from a cabinet near the sinks and wets a towel under the water.

When he kneels in front of me, my breath falters.

He gently grabs my hand and pats the wet towel onto the wound, cleaning it.

And I can’t help but stare at how meticulously he’s working his way across the palm of my hand, taking great care not to hurt me any further.

Every time his coarse fingers touch the palm of my hand, electricity zings through my entire body, and I find it hard to breathe.

“You don’t have to bandage me up,” I say.

He looks up at me with those gorgeous eyes of his and says, “No, but I want to because you’re my wife now, and it’s my duty to take care of you.”

The added smile makes my heart beat faster and faster.

How does he have this effect on me? I don’t understand.

I swallow as he puts down the towel and inspects the wound.

“You’re lucky the glass didn’t slice deep enough for you to require sutures, but it’s definitely a gnarly cut.”

He grabs some bandages and starts rolling them around my hand, covering the wound until it’s no longer visible, and my hand feels warm and protected. But I don’t know if it’s warm from the bandage or from the way he’s touching me right now.

He seals the bandage in place with some tape, then says, “All done.” He puts down the supplies. “Now are you going to tell me why you destroyed your room?”

Matteo

She immediately averts her gaze and tucks her hair behind her ear. “Because …” She pauses for a moment. “I don’t like feeling imprisoned. And if you don’t want me to damage any of your precious stuff, maybe you shouldn’t have locked me up in the first place.”

I smile. “You think I care about any of that stuff?”

She turns her head again to look at me, her beautiful eyes so deep I could nearly drown in them.

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” I place my hand on top of hers.

She swallows, still upset. “Whatever. I just knocked over some items, that’s all.”

But she’s obviously still shaken, and I can tell.

“I could hear you downstairs, Tesoro.”

Her eyes widen.

“Why else do you think I came upstairs?” I tip her chin to make her look at me. “I’m worried about you.”

“You shouldn’t be,” she says. “I’m perfectly fine taking care of myself, thank you.”

I snort. “Ah, so that’s what you were doing with Lucio? Taking care of yourself.”

She frowns. “Don’t bring him into this.”

“How can I not when he’s the entire reason you’re here in the first place?” She rolls her eyes. “Both of you just want me like some goddamn pet. Don’t pretend you suddenly care about me.” She jerks free from my grip.

“I never said I didn’t,” I reply.

“We’re only married on paper,” she says. “It’s not real.”

“This marriage is very real to me, and I take it very seriously.”

Her cheeks flush with heat. “Well, no husband would ever consider keeping his wife in her room like a captive.” She folds her arms. “Maybe you should think about that.”

I love her spiciness and how she’s not afraid to speak her mind.

A smirk forms on my face. “I’ll consider it. As long as you stop trying to throw everything around in your room. I don’t want you to hurt yourself any further than this.”

I take a glance at her hand, which she’s tucked into her elbow, like she’s trying to hide herself from me. As if I haven’t already seen just how much of a true beauty she is. Courageous in the face of danger. Proud like a lioness. Perfect for a man like me.

And yet …

I suck in a breath through my nostrils and cup her cheek with my hand. “You will be taken care of well, I promise.”

She takes a deep breath too. “But I’m your wife now. What does that even entail? Am I some kind of Mafia wife now? Because I know you’re a mobster.”

I laugh. It’s not like I hide it, but she makes it sound like I do.

“What am I supposed to do? What’s my job?

” she asks. “I have no clue what it means to be a wife. Except, well …” Her cheeks turn even redder, and I get the sense she means something entirely different right now.

“What do you want from me? I’m not going to be a perfect little wifey, ready for you to claim, just to please you on your every whim. ”

I tilt my head and smile at her, narrowing my eyes.

She thinks I want to use her for her body, doesn’t she? Of course not, I’m not that kind of guy. I won’t take from her what she’s not willing to give to me.

“I won’t force myself on you if that’s what you think. I’m not that kind of man, Tesoro.”

She visibly relaxes again, and the panic that had been taking over her tensed muscles and body slowly dissipates. “But … it’s our wedding night, right?”

I shrug. “And?”

“I almost thought you wanted … a traditional marriage.”

She sucks on her bottom lip, and it draws my attention briefly. But I still can’t stop staring into those gorgeous eyes that lure me closer and closer to her. And even though I’m so close that I can smell her scent, she still won’t push me away.

God, those beautiful lips. I could just about kiss them.

But she doesn’t want me.

She shudders in place, and I pull back and straighten my jacket along with my sense of self-control.

Goddammit, Matteo. You almost did it.

I shake my head.

What the fuck is happening to me?

“Will you let me go if I let you kiss me?” she whispers seductively.

My eyes widen, and I immediately lean back and stand. “Sarah will help you back to your room.” I turn around.

“What? No. Matteo, let me out of here.” She stomps on the floor with a single foot. “Right now. Or I swear to God …”

“You’ll what?” I retort.

“Don’t underestimate me,” she hisses.

I ignore her and waltz off without taking another glance, worried that if I do, I might not be able to stop myself from kissing her, anyway. She knows, and she uses it as a weapon. Smart girl.

I go back to my room and sit down on my mattress, staring at the ceiling above me.

I almost let myself go there. And for what, a quick kiss? A taste of what I can’t have? She tried to buy her way to freedom with a kiss. She’ll never love me, not after what I did. It’s meaningless. But then why do I want to kiss her so badly every time I’m near her?

I run my fingers through my hair and groan out loud, leaning back while I slowly close my eyes and picture her in front of me.

I still remember that dress she wore at Club Triton, how beautifully it fit around her curves, and how easily I would have let her tempt me to take her with me, right then and there, if only she hadn’t run off. Maybe I should have.

Fuck.

My dick tents my pants as my mind wanders off to our kiss at the wedding Lucio orchestrated. The wedding I stole from him, just like his wife, and for some reason, the thought of her lips on mine makes my cock so damn hard that I have to unzip to free it from its restraints.

I groan out loud while I arch my back and begin to rub myself relentlessly, trying to take control of these animalistic urges coursing through my veins.

Fuck, I should stop, but I can’t.

I need her. I want her so badly, but I don’t know why. I don’t understand why I’m so obsessed. What’s gotten into me?

She’s everything I shouldn’t want. She’s the girl I stole from my enemy, the girl who hates me for making her marry me. And I’m as hard as fuck for her because of the way she just looked at me, because of how her lips trembled at the thought of me kissing her when I leaned in.

And God, I almost claimed her.

I bite my lip as I jerk myself off in my own room, trying to release this tension that’s been building inside me since the moment I met her. But fuck me, I don’t think a simple jerk-off session will ever be enough as long as she’s in my house.

I can’t stop thinking about my beautiful wife, her plump lips and those ample curves, and how much I wish I could make them mine.

The pre-cum is lathered all over as I roll my hand around my shaft, picturing it’s her doing this. It’s so wrong, so goddamn wrong, but I can’t control myself any longer. And right when I think about her kiss at the altar again, I come undone.

All the pent-up desire unleashes, and I spurt my cum all over the floor until I’m satiated and the lust no longer controls my every waking thought.

But when I open my eyes again, there she is.

Not in my mind, but in the living flesh, staring right back at me through the small gap between my door.

Fuck.