Matteo

Chapter 7 Stella

STELLA

My eyes widen in shock.

He came.

He was jerking off, and he came.

And not only that, but he’s absolutely huge and curved, and while he’s staring at me, I’m staring at it.

My God.

I immediately turn around and bolt off through the hallways back to my room, where I left Sarah the moment she came to fetch me from the bathroom, just like Matteo said she would.

But she was far too busy with cleaning up the mess I made of my room to notice I’d disappeared a second time to roam around the house.

I just didn’t imagine I’d ever find Matteo, jerking off on his own bed.

I close the door behind me and stay put for a few seconds, gathering myself while my mind slowly begins to spin out of control.

I can’t believe what I just saw. That cock … was gigantic.

And he saw me looking at him.

At his dick.

“Are you okay, ma’am?” Sarah asks.

I swallow. “I’m fine. It’s fine. Everything’s fine.”

But everything is not fine. Not at all, because I can’t stop fucking thinking about how big he was and how much it made me throb seeing him explode.

Fuck.

I shiver in place, and Sarah says, “Are you cold, ma’am? Let me run you a hot bath.”

She gets up from the floor and drops all the broken glass into the bin before walking to the en suite bathroom and turning on the faucet.

“Thanks,” I mutter, while I contemplate whether or not I should still try to run while I can, before she locks the door on me again.

Then again, I really don’t want to run into him right now.

When she’s all done, she smiles at me. “Let me help you out of that dress.”

I try to protest, but she won’t let me as she spins me around and unzips me, tugging at the white gown. “There. Much better, right?”

“Thanks,” I say, smiling back.

“Do you need anything else from me?”

I shake my head. “Not right now.”

“Call me if you need anything, ma’am, and I’ll be right there.”

“Of course,” I say. “And again, I’m sorry about the mess.”

“It’s fine.” She laughs it off. “You don’t wanna know the number of times I’ve had to clean up after his mess.”

After giggling some more, she abruptly ceases, as if she realized she said too much. She swiftly bolts out of the room, locking me inside again.

I blow out a breath and head toward the bathroom, where I peel away all my clothes before I climb into the bath, hoping it’ll take my mind off what I saw in his room …

even though I’m pretty sure the mere memory of his hard-on and how it actually made my pussy throb watching him jerk-off is now seared into my brain for all of eternity.

I sink farther into the bath, trying to drown out my thoughts of absolute filth, but I can’t. I simply can’t stop thinking about how Matteo sat there on his bed with his back arched, muscles tensing as he thrust into the palm of his hand.

Good God.

I come up for air again, but my hand instinctively slips down my belly toward the crevice between my legs, and without giving it a second thought, I start rubbing myself to the memory of him.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I can’t stop it either.

The lust in his eyes was so palpable … I could almost feel it.

Tingling, right there where I’m touching myself.

My fingers swirl around my pussy as I tilt my head back and close my eyes while I think of the only man I should not be thinking about right now.

But those muscles, and the way he clenched as he came undone, are bringing me to new heights I never knew I could reach.

And as I shift in the tub and let out a moan, my fingers slip inside my pussy, and I finger myself to the thought of my Mafia husband jerking off because of me.

I know it’s reckless.

I know it’s insane.

There’s no way he did that because I was in his vicinity, but my mind creates its own narrative to satiate the growing need building inside me.

I can’t stop, I’m too close.

I rub my clit until I come just as hard as he did.

Thinking about him.

Fuck.

The sun peeking through the curtains wakes me from my slumber, and I open my eyes and stare at the windows for a moment to ground myself.

This guest bed feels awfully soft for a prison bed.

I nearly forgot where I was, that I was being held as a hostage by a Mafia don I’ve only known for a single day.

That same Mafia don who was jerking off right in front of me yesterday. And I couldn’t help but finger myself to the memory. Dammit.

I’m supposed to be angry with him. I wasn’t supposed to get hot and bothered.

How did I let myself go like that so easily last night?

Enraged at myself, I throw the blankets off me and head to the closet. I rip it open and tear out the clothes until I find something that fits me well. Something provocative and daring. I grab the white jumpsuit and red pumps that lie in the back. A perfect outfit for a perfect fucking day.

I get dressed and look at myself in the mirror.

This white jumpsuit looks so good on me.

I pair it with a bright red lipstick, which is on the boudoir next to the mirror, along with a bunch of other makeup that the maid probably stocked for guests.

It’s not what I usually wear, but I’ll make it work.

I smack my lips together to rub it in and smile.

I’m so fucking ready for this.

If I can’t escape those memories, then I’ll make sure he won’t ever forget about me either.

I grab the old phone standing on the table in the corner of the room and dial the first number on the card next to it. It almost feels like I’m calling the hotel reception … except these people work for the same Mafia don who’s keeping me a prisoner in his house.

“Hello ma’am, how are you today? Did you sleep well?”

It’s Leticia, one of Matteo’s maids, who sounds far too happy for someone who works for a man like him.

“I feel great. Slept like a baby, so that helped,” I lie.

I barely got a few hours’ worth of sleep, but I’ll make it work.

“I was wondering if I could get a tour of the kitchen, please?” I ask.

“A tour?” She sounds confused about why I’d ask, but I have my reasons.

“Yeah, I wanted to see if I could bake something for Matteo. As a thank you for saving me from Lucio. I mean, he’s been so kind to me.”

I nearly vomit into my own mouth, but I keep it together for the sake of it.

“Um, sure, let me ask the guard, hold on,” Leticia says.

I tap my foot as she walks away for a few seconds, probably to discuss how they can do this logistically without me throwing a ruckus around the house. They still assume I’ll try to escape, and they’re right, but not in the way they think.

“Okay, a guard will accompany us, but it’s fine. I’ll be right up, and then I’ll take you back downstairs with me.”

“Thanks,” I say and hang up the phone.

A few minutes later, someone knocks on my door. “Ma’am, it’s Leticia.” She walks in and smiles at me. “You look gorgeous, ma’am.”

“Thank you,” I reply. “Do you think he’ll like it?”

I want him too bamboozled to even think.

“Definitely. Do you have an idea of what you wanted to bake for him?”

“Oh, I was thinking of a cake or a pie,” I reply.

“He sure does love cake,” she says.

I grin. “Great. Where do we go?”

She takes me with her, and I walk out of my room with my head held high as we walk down the hallway and toward the stairs, where the guard is already watching us. Leticia keeps a keen eye on me so I don’t attempt to run away, but I don’t mind.

Let her look, I’m not scared. Where am I supposed to go? There are guards everywhere.

The only thing I’m interested in is getting to that kitchen, so I follow her down the stairs while that guard breathes down our necks, and we head into the main hallway, where we make a right turn.

Beyond the main kitchen, down a few steps, is a cellar with a ton of food items on display in the cabinets.

“I thought I’d bring you to the supplies first,” she says. “I don’t know what you had in mind.”

I look around the storage room, trying to find what I’m going to use. “You’ve got flour, sugar, butter ...”

“Oh yes, of course.”

She walks off and grabs some stuff from the shelves in the corner, and I quickly make my way around the kitchen until I find what I’m looking for. Stacks and stacks of fruit ... and my eyes fall on a basket of apricots.

Perfect.

Leticia places the ingredients on the table in the middle of the room and says, “Do you need any help with this?”

“No, no, it’s fine. I can handle myself in a kitchen.”

“It’s just that I have a lot of cleaning to do, and Matteo isn’t awake yet, so I want everything to be done before he gets up.”

“Yeah, of course, no problem,” I say. “I know how to bake a cake.” I wink.

“If there’s anything you need from me, just holler at one of the guards. They’re stationed right outside each room, as well as the front door,” she says.

I nod a few times. “I noticed.”

She smiles and walks off, leaving me all to myself with my filthy little plans. She’ll never know what I’m truly up to until it’s too late.

I immediately get to work and grab some flour, butter, eggs, baking powder, salt, cinnamon, and sugar—everything I need to make the perfect cake.

I set the oven to 350, then look around the room for a base to put the cake on, which is on one of the bottom storage shelves.

I use butter to grease the bottom, then combine the flour, baking powder, cinnamon, and salt in a small bowl.

In another bowl, I mix the butter and sugar, then add the eggs one at a time.

Last, I add vanilla for flavor. I put the two bowls together and mix until combined well, just as my mom taught me when we baked in the kitchen together all those years ago.

I cut all the apricots into small pieces and puree some of them in a separate blender, then add them to the batter to combine. The batter goes into the spring pan. I add more apricot slices on top to make it look pretty, then I put it in the oven.

But I’m not done yet.

I glance at the door where a guard is waiting … watching me. I clear my throat. “Excuse me, can you help me?”

“With what?” he barks.

“I need some more sugar, and I can’t find it. Can you ask Leticia, please?”

He rolls his eyes but then walks off anyway, giving me the time I need to finish this up.

I swiftly put all the apricot pits in a stone bowl and get to work with a mortar and pestle until they’re all ground up. Then I put them in the food grinder until they're a fine powder, and I add them to a small bowl, which I hide somewhere between the shelves.

“You needed more sugar?” Leticia’s sudden voice makes me jolt up and down.

“Oh, I already put the cake in the oven now. Sorry,” I say.

She walks inside and searches the shelves for more sugar. “Here you go, honey. Maybe you can add a glaze to make it sweeter? Or add some powdered sugar.”

“Yeah, I might do that,” I say, smiling.

“I’m going back to the dining room to set everything up. Holler if you need me.”

I nod and wait until she’s gone. Now all that’s left … is to wait.

I make myself a nice cup of hot coffee and sit down at the table while watching the timer go by.

It’s still so early in the morning that I have to yawn every five minutes, but I don’t mind.

This waiting is going to be worth it. I look around the kitchen some more until I find some chocolate chip cookies, and I steal five of them to take care of my rumbling stomach.

I don’t have to wait until breakfast because there won’t be a breakfast.

A filthy smile forms on my face after I watch the time tick by, and half an hour has passed.

While the maids are working hard at cleaning the living room and setting up the breakfast table for Matteo and me and whoever else he’s invited, I happily walk to the oven and take out my freshly baked cake.

With oven mitts, of course, because I don’t want to get burned.

I glance at the guard who’s chatting with another guard, clearly distracted, so I can add my final touch.

With a fork, I poke some holes in the cake and scatter all the apricot pit powder on top like a beautiful garnish.

Last, I add some powdered sugar so no one will notice the poison lacing this cake.

I set it down on the kitchen table, then go back into the dining room, where Leticia is busy setting the table.

“Hi, ma’am, did you find everything you were looking for?” she asks.

“Yes, the cake is done.”

He won’t see it coming until it’s too late.

“Wonderful,” she says. “Shall I serve it for breakfast?”

“Yes, please.” That’s perfect. “Make sure Matteo takes the first bite. I want him to enjoy it.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

The mere thought of him eating my cake makes me smile from ear to ear. But damn, these nerves might just get to me before it happens.

“Can you show me to the bathroom, please?” I ask.

“Yes, of course,” she says, then guides me out of the dining room and into the hallway toward a door near the front of the house.

“Here you go.”

“Thanks.” I lock myself inside and sit down on the toilet to take a much-needed breather.

Am I really going to do this?

Yes, yes, the fuck you are. Stella, you’re going to poison the fucking Mafia don just like you always intended to do.

Even though the idea was meant for Lucio when I first searched online how to poison someone with common household food.

But exchanging one don for another doesn’t really matter, right?

They both intended to keep me locked up in a house I don’t want to be in.

As a wife, a pet, a plaything, and I am none of those.

They underestimated me, but I will use their blind desire against them.

They think I’m innocent, but I’m far from it, and I’ve been scheming for far too long to let this idea go to waste.

I’m not going to let anyone kidnap me and keep me a prisoner.

I blow out a breath and wash my face in the sink, trying to gather my nerves. I have to appear cool … collected. Matteo can’t notice anything off about me, or he might not eat the cake, and then my plan is ruined. I have to be the same girl he remembers from yesterday.

Suddenly, the memory of him sitting on his bed flashes through my mind, and I swallow from the sheer size of that thing still seared into my brain.

God, I really gotta stop thinking about his dick and focus on killing him instead.

I flush the toilet and wash my hands, then unlock the door, where Leticia is already waiting for me. “Ma’am … Matteo is waiting for you at the dining table. Breakfast is ready.”

Showtime.