Matteo

Chapter 8 Stella

STELLA

The moment I walk into the dining room and spot him sitting at the edge of the table, I freeze.

His eyes bore into my head, and there’s nowhere else I can look because of his penetrating gaze.

When he looks at me like that, I feel completely naked.

It’s exactly the same way he stared at me when he sat on his bed while he was playing with himself …

when he didn’t know I saw everything I wasn’t supposed to see.

“Go on … take a seat,” he says.

My pussy throbs again from the mere memory, but I ignore it, rubbing my legs together as I step forward and sit as far away from him as possible.

Come on, Stella, you can do this. You’re an adult, act like it.

I clear my throat and scoot my chair forward, then glance over the incredible banquet that Leticia and the other maids put together, knowing no one will ever get a chance to taste any of it, because he’s going to eat my cake first and then die.

Well, maybe I’ll have a delicious Danish before he keels over.

I grab one of them from the bowl on the table, snatch some butter too and slather it all over.

“You seem hungry,” Matteo says. “Good morning to you too.”

I don’t reply. Instead, I stuff my face with a Danish while looking at anything except him. I check out the cutlery, the rest of the food, the paintings on the wall, and the flooring. Even the ceiling is very nice, very dainty.

“Aren’t you going to say good morning?” he asks. “I know you hate me, but at least we can be amicable about it, right? After all, we’re still husband and wife.”

I snort and swallow my Danish. “I can’t even look at you.”

Suits him right.

But the arrogant smirk still slowly forms on his face. “Well, you were more than happy to look at me while I was jerking off last night.”

I nearly choke on my Danish, and I have to wash it down with some water while coughing. The motherfucker actually grins.

Goddammit. Now he made me think of it. Again.

I place down my glass and take another glance at him. He seems awfully proud of himself despite the fact that he just mentioned his jerk-off session like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

I look him directly in the eye. “Well, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were going to jerk off.”

I’m just glad he doesn’t know what I did in the tub afterward.

He smiles. “Is it so odd for a man like me to have needs?”

I grab an apple and chew on it. “No, I just figured you would do it with the door closed.”

“I apologize. I hadn’t thought of closing the door to my room in my own house because I normally never have to.”

I chew the apple obnoxiously. “Weird, it’s almost like you forgot I was here. You know, if you let me go, you can jerk off whenever you want to.”

A smile tips up his lips. “Now, where’s the fun in that? I’d much rather have you watching me.”

Fuck.

I take another bite of my apple, incensed by my own arousal at his words.

He doesn’t even know how much I remember.

Or the fact that I used the memory for my own pleasure.

I clear my throat. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he responds. “I don’t mind at all.” He leans forward. “In fact, I quite enjoyed it.”

I lick my lips as a droplet of juice from the apple rolls down, and his eyes home in on my tongue like he’s thinking about kissing me right here, right now, and it makes my heart palpitate.

“And I think you did too.” He winks.

Shit.

Is he on to me?

No, he can’t be. He can’t have seen what I did. No one was in my room except me.

God, I’ve never endured a more awkward breakfast than this one. And I definitely don’t want to admit to his face that I’ve thought about the way he touched that huge dick of his several times now, or that I fingered myself to the mere memory.

I hate it. I hate how he’s already wormed his way into my brain without even trying, and that I can’t seem to get rid of him. I really need him to eat that cake, so I’m not tempted to jump his bones instead.

I swallow another piece of apple when finally Leticia arrives with my special cake.

But the apple immediately falls from my hand.

One piece of the cake is missing.

Oh God. What if she took a slice?

Matteo

Her eyes suddenly widen as Leticia enters, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s due to something she said or that cake Leticia puts down on the table in front of us.

“Isn’t it gorgeous?” she says. “Stella made it all by herself.”

“Uhhh …” Stella tries to intervene, eyeing Leticia like she’s telling a lie, but we both know that isn’t true. Leticia doesn’t ever lie to me.

“Did she now?” I muse, adjusting my tie.

“She wanted you to have the first slice,” Leticia says as she cuts a piece out of the cake and places it on a new plate, then sets it down in front of me. “Bon appétit.”

“Thank you, Leticia. I appreciate it.”

She walks off again, but my eyes are fixed solely on Stella, who frantically looks at the door through which she disappeared, sweat rolling down her neck. I wonder what’s going on inside that beautiful head of hers.

“You made this for me?” I ask.

She nods without saying a word, and I wonder …

I pick up my fork and take a small portion of the cake, and Stella’s lips seal shut as though she’s suddenly had a taste of something foul.

“Something so sweet shouldn’t go to waste,” I murmur.

I tilt my head and bring the fork to my lips, then pause as a guard walks inside …

He drops on the floor right in front of us, foaming at the mouth.

Stella’s pupils dilate, and she jumps up from her seat as a small squeal escapes.

Interesting. Very … interesting.

Her eyes home in on me, while I’m still clutching the fork, the cake so close to my lips I can definitely smell the scent of apricots. Sweet poison straight into my veins.

God, nothing could excite me more than this.

A slow smile forms on my face. “You didn’t think I was actually going to eat this, did you?”

Her entire face turns white as snow, and when she attempts to run, I bark, “Sit. Down.”

She clutches the table and pauses for a moment, then slowly sinks back into her seat.

“I’m impressed, Stella. It’s not often someone tries to poison me, but I never imagined it’d be my wife,” I muse, putting the cake back down on the plate again. “That’s a first.”

I get up and walk to her side of the table while she looks up at me with those pretty little eyes filled with disdain. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

She tilts her head. “How do you know he was poisoned? Maybe he was just allergic to something.”

That’s a bold choice.

I place my hand on the table and lean in until the tension between us becomes tangible, electrifying the air. “Because I have him taste everything before it gets to me.”

I smile when her face turns even whiter.

“A smart decision, it seems, considering even the person I’m supposed to love wants me dead.”

“Love. Don’t be ridiculous.” She snorts. “And you assume I poisoned you? With what? A cake?”

I grab the cake’s tray and slide it toward her, then dip my finger into the frosting on top, rubbing it between my fingers until I can feel the ground-up powder added after it had already baked.

“Apricot seeds contain a lot of cyanide, don’t they?

Just like many other fruits. Yet this was the only one available in my kitchen today.

What a surprise.” I look her dead in the eyes, and she swallows, visibly taken aback that I caught her in her scheme and didn’t actually die, like I was supposed to. Guess her plans failed.

But my, oh my, what an interesting turn of events. I never expected her, out of all people, to want to poison me. I didn’t think she had it in her. But fuck, am I impressed. The audacity of this girl is both frightening and exhilarating at the same time, and it definitely stirred my cock.

I adjust my pants as my staff enters the room to inspect the body. “Take him,” I say. “Reward his family well.”

“Yes, sir,” the staff member says.

“And find me a replacement for his job.”

After they’re done carrying the body out of the room, he replies, “Of course, sir. I’m on it.”

Franco enters the dining room too, surprised she’s still sitting here unbothered by the whole scene, and he stares at us with his jaw wide open. “Sir, do you want me to do something?”

I smile as her courage sinks into the floor, along with her resolve. “No, I can handle this.”

“But she just tried to poison you.”

I raise my hand. “I said I’ll handle it.”

Franco nods and walks off again.

“Leave us,” I tell the rest of my staff. “All of you.”

When everyone’s left the room, and the whole place has gone quiet after the doors have closed, I focus on her.

She braces herself against the chair and then suddenly lunges for the fork on the table.

She attacks me but misses, and I grab her wrist and pin it behind her back, pushing her up to the table with my body.

“Drop it,” I say.

Finally, she releases the fork, but her scrunched-up face and angry eyes draw my attention more than any weapon ever could. God, she looks gorgeous when she wants to kill me.

“You bastard,” she hisses while glancing at me over her shoulder.

“Now, now, is that any way to treat the man who saved you?”

“You didn’t save me,” she says. “You just made me your pet, the same as Lucio would have done. You’re no different from him.”

“He and I are nothing alike,” I growl into her ear. “Nothing, do you hear me?”

“No? Well, it sure seems like it. He’d have me pinned to the table just like you’re doing right now.”

I admit, shoving her up against the table made me hard as fuck. But this is not the man I want to be.

Sighing, I release her from my grip and spin her around so she can look at me while I plant my hands on the table beside her, so it’s still impossible to escape me and my wrath.

“You’re making it really hard for me to like you. You know that, right?”

“You think I care?” she replies.

“You should. You’re in my house now. You live under my rules. And you need to learn how to behave.”

“Fuck you,” she spits back. “No one can control me.”

“Is that so?”

I slowly push closer until her legs are parted and I’m between them. She shudders as she leans back while my hand reaches up to her face to caress her cheeks, and I can feel the goose bumps appearing underneath.

“You’re my wife now, for better or for worse. Whether you want to be or not, we’re married. And husband and wives don’t lie to each other. So tell me, Tesoro, did you try to poison me?”

“Yes,” she hisses through her teeth. “And I’d do it again.”

So brazen, so damn sexy.

I snort. “I’m impressed. I like a girl with spite.”

“And I like a Mafia don who’s dead,” she quips.

“Husband and wife aren’t supposed to try to kill each other,” I reply.

“Maybe you should’ve thought about that before you made me your wife.”

I narrow my eyes. “Is that what you were planning to do to Lucio?”

“I would’ve if you hadn’t intervened.”

I curl a strand of her hair around my finger. “Should I have let you marry him instead, then?” I play with her hair, and her eyes follow my every move. “So you could’ve poisoned him instead?”

Her nostrils flare. “Maybe.”

“And you think he would even let you try?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she mutters, looking away.

I grab her chin. “It does to me.”

“You only married me out of spite,” she answers.

“And you only married me to save yourself.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

I tap her chest. “You only tell yourself that to make you feel better about trying to kill me.”

She rolls her eyes and looks away again, but I deserve her full attention after what she just tried to do.

I slowly bring my finger up to her chin so she’s forced to look at me. “I’m not angry.”

She scowls. “So?”

I know she’s disappointed because she wanted me to die, and her plan backfired. She feels trapped, and it’s all my fault. But poisoning me is not the answer to her problems, and she knows that.

“I’ll forget you tried to poison me. If...”

“If?”

I smirk. “You give me a kiss.”

Her lip trembles, but then she says, “Fine.”

She places the most sickly sweet kiss on my cheeks she could ever give.

The kind a woman would give her husband after forty years of marriage.

But I know there’s more hiding behind that kiss.

Her lips shudder as they leave my skin, almost as if she has the greatest trouble holding herself back from taking more than she can chew.

And my God, it makes me want to slam my lips on hers immediately.

But I have to keep myself in check. A promise is a promise after all.

I won’t force myself on her because I’m a goddamn gentleman.

“Good girl,” I say.

Her cheeks turn rosy red. And I like the look on her.

“Are you going to let me off the hook now?” she asks stoically. “Can I go?”

I throw her a glance. “You haven’t even eaten breakfast yet.”

“I’ve had a Danish and a slice of apple,” she replies.

“That’s not enough.”

“That’s not for you to ...”

I put my finger on her lips to silence her. Then I grab the fork she tried to stab me with and puncture a piece of melon instead. I slowly bring it to her mouth. “Open up, Tesoro.”

Her lips gently part, and I slide the melon into her mouth and onto her tongue until her lips close around the fork. I watch her swallow the piece of melon and lick my lips because everything she does makes me so damn hungry for more.

I pick up another and feed it to her.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” I reply. “I’m feeding my wife because she won’t feed herself.”

“Ridiculous,” she says as I shove in another piece of melon.

“Is it? A husband is supposed to take care of his wife, remember? And even if you are too busy trying to kill me to have breakfast, I’ll make sure you eat properly.”

I add another piece of melon just for the sake of it and watch the droplets of juice roll down her lips, tempting me to lick them up. God, her skin would probably taste like melon too.

I place the fork down and lean in so close she shudders and closes her eyes, almost as if she’s expecting me to kiss her. Instead, I whisper, “If you can prove to me you can behave and try not to kill me, I’ll give you more freedom.”

When I lean away again, she sucks in a breath and says, “Deal.”

Suddenly, Franco storms inside again, crushing our moment. “I’m sorry for interrupting, sir, but it’s important.”

“What is it?” I grumble as I step away from Stella.

“It’s the Agostinis. They’ve targeted one of your restaurants!”

My eyes widen. “What?”

Lucio. That bastard still can’t stop wrecking everything.

“Does he have a death wish?” I seethe.

“One of your men called and said he has taken one of the servers with him, a woman,” he says.

That bastard. “He’s trying to take someone else as payment.”

Suddenly, Stella grabs my arm. “You have to save her.”

Her sudden insistence makes me do a double take.

“I know what he’s like. You have to get her out of his grasp,” she adds.

I nod, then waltz off. “Franco, let’s go.”