26. Matilde
Matilde
Only the morning sun filtering in and the painting above the headboard greets me when I wake in his bed that feels too big. Sorrow’s Cascade. Tumbling waters over jagged rocks, treacherous and lonely.
While showering, I trace the mark his mouth left on my neck and fantasize about my husband walking in at any moment, gruffly saying he’s hungry for another taste of his bride.
He doesn’t walk in.
I braid my hair and sift through my clothes, looking for something suitably chic for a Capo’s wife to wear.
Settling on a burgundy angora sweater and blue jeans, I go in search of Nico, wincing as I descend the stairs.
I’m sore from last night, yet the memory of his powerful body covering mine has tendrils of heat piercing my belly.
The clatter of pots in the kitchen lures me in that direction as Nico doesn’t have a full-time staff. But when I push through the swinging door, the cook is there with two men and a woman I’ve never met.
“Good morning, Mrs. Morelli,” the cook says, affably. How odd it feels being called that.
“Good morning, Nunzia. Please continue calling me Matilde,” I reply, wondering why she’s here so early. Past fifty with dark gray hair and features softened by many laugh lines, she usually drops by twice a week to meal prep for Nico unless he’s hosting a dinner.
“This is Ersilia, the housekeeper.” Nunzia motions to the woman standing across from her.
Unlike the cook, Ersilia is tall and her features are sharp. She wears her long white hair in a bun so tight it gives me a headache just looking at it. She notes the love bite on my neck with a prudish frown that reminds me of my stepmother before briskly dipping her head in greeting.
“I did not know Mr. Morelli had a housekeeper.”
“I was here before when he was married to the first Mrs. Morelli,” Ersilia informs me. “The master says I’m to help you with the children. What is their schedule? What time would you like them up and dressed every morning?
“They are babies. They wake early, but the rest depends on what is happening that day.”
Ersilia purses her lips in disapproval. “Without strictly enforced routines, children run wild.”
I’m still fumbling for a retort when Nunzia introduces the men. “And this is Ugo and Enio, Matilde, your bodyguards.”
I might’ve guessed that. Dressed in matching black suits, everything about them screams bodyguard. They're at least twenty years older than me, stocky builds and buzzcuts with chilling eyes that remind me of a shark. Merciless predators. “I’m pleased to meet you,” I say politely to them both.
Ugo and Enio grunt in unison, their sole reply.
Nunzia has returned her attention to the stove, so Ersilia points toward the door that leads to the dining room. “The master is already having breakfast through there, Mrs. Morelli. You should join him, but you may wish to start rising earlier so you don’t keep him waiting.”
I scowl, not liking her tone or the feeling of being managed, but I’m not up to a battle of wills with a stranger this early.
My husband is seated at the end of the grand table, and I’m disappointed to see he’s nearly finished with his meal.
He did say he had a meeting with Carlo Vicini and his underbosses this morning.
Dressed in a navy suit and crisp white dress shirt, he looks like any wealthy businessman… except sexier with his scar.
“Good morning.” Recalling our intimacy last night, I grow flustered, not knowing what to do with my hands.
“Good morning. I wasn’t sure if you’d be up before I left.”
He makes it sound as though it didn’t matter either way to him how late I slept. Where has the man who ate me on his bathroom counter last night gone? Was that glimpse of heated passion even rarer than his smiles?
“I have to leave soon, but you’ll be wanting this,” he says, laying his napkin aside and standing. He passes me a credit card, solid black with my name stamped on it in stainless steel – Matilde Morelli.
“I don’t have a bank account or even a passport. How-”
“We have our ways.”
“What do I do with it?” I ask, staring at the card.
“You buy things.”
My eyes narrow at his dry delivery. “I know that. What things?” He gives me a puzzled look before shrugging. “How much can I spend?”
“However much you desire. It’s my job as your husband to earn more money than you can spend.”
“But-”
“You’ll need this, too, and you need to learn how to access the house’s security features with it.” He hands me a brand-new phone, reciting numbers, codes and emergency procedures. My mind is everywhere but on what he’s saying. “Make sure you memorize-”
“You hired a housekeeper,” I interrupt.
“Yes, Ersilia worked here previously. I didn’t need her full-time after Margareta died, but it’s different now.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m married again, and you’ll be expected to entertain other Trio wives in addition to taking care of my children.”
Wives like Cosima?
His children.
A flicker of frustration swells. “You choose my bodyguards for me. You buy me a new phone without even asking me what I want. You hire the staff, tell me to entertain strangers. I am told to come eat with you, but you eat without me.”
“I have a feeling there’s a point here I’m missing.”
My eye twitches, and the fork on the table might look better sticking out of his ass instead. “My point is I should make some of these decisions, sir.”
His anger kindles at that three-letter word, sending a dangerously giddy shiver down my spine. “Don’t test my temper this early, Matilde.”
“I will test it if you have any. You seem cold as ice to me… sir.”
“I am the Capo, but you will call me-”
“Yes, you are Capo. Out there!” I snap, gesturing toward the window. “In this house, you are my husband. I respect you, but I will not sit and do nothing and have no say in things. Yesterday, you made me promises. Do better, Nico, or I will not stay!”
Placing the phone and credit card on the table, I spin around to leave him with his empty breakfast dish, but his footsteps follow me to the foyer.
Faster, heavier, gaining. Excitement thunders through my blood along with a trickle of trepidation.
What will he do when he catches me? What do I want him to do?
Just as my hand grasps the stairway’s banister, his arm snakes around my waist, forcefully pulling me against him. My back to his front, hard muscle against my softer curves. “You will stay. You are mine.”
All my wits scatter with his primal claim, and the breath stutters in my chest. I’m ashamed over how damp my panties are, too.
But I have to stand my ground. He’s nine years older than me and used to giving orders. I’ll never enjoy an ounce of independence if I bow down from the start.
“I am young, and this is a marriage of convenience, of duty, but I did not think that meant I was still your servant. Your children will be my children, too. I have a voice here… don’t I?”
Slowly, he exhales. “You’re right. You do have a voice, and I will learn to listen to it. But you will stay with us. No more talk of leaving. The children need you.”
The children, not him. “I will stay,” I agree, ignoring the pang the distinction evokes.
Squeezing me a bit tighter, he inhales deeply, dragging his nose down my cheek and into my hair.
My fingers sweep over his strong forearms as something hard pokes my backside.
Butterflies stir in my pussy, knowing what it is.
“Fuck, you smell delicious, and now I know you taste even better. Sometimes I think you provoke me on purpose, Matilde,” he rasps in my ear.
“Sometimes, I do.”
“A wicked, willful girl.”
“As I am stuck with you, you are stuck with me.”
“That’s right. My very willful little wife.”
He grinds his erection against my ass, and his hands slide up to my breasts, teasing my nipples through my bra and sweater. I gasp, arching my back, seeking more contact. “Per favore…”
He chuckles darkly, moving one hand down to the zipper of my jeans. The sound echoes in the empty hall, and my pulse races. “How sore are you?”
“Not-”
“Don’t lie,” he warns, giving my ass a smack.
“Very sore.”
“I meant to be gentle, but gentleness is not my forte. Christ, you’re fucking soaked,” he rumbles, sounding pleased as he traces my slit through my panties. His finger rubs over my clit, teasingly.
I’m aching and hot all over, wanting the release but… “There are other people here,” I whisper.
“If they like living, those other people will turn around immediately if they happen to walk in on us.”
He lightly slaps my throbbing clit before circling it again. I whimper and clench my fists. I wish he’d move my panties out of the way. He rubs a little harder, and I sink my teeth into my bottom lip to keep from moaning loudly. “More.”
“Who are you asking for more, Matilde?”
“You… sir.”
“Fuck, you’ll be the death of me.”
He sucks in another deep breath before licking my throat and rubbing me more intently. I’m going to climax right here. Any second now, it’s unstoppable.
But he straightens just as I reach the cliff’s edge, removing his hand from my clothes. “I fucking hate that I can’t blow off this meeting,” he huffs, sounding practically unhinged before he bites my earlobe.
There are too many sensations at once. “That’s not… You can’t…” He smirks at my protests. “I could stab you for that,” I hiss, angrily zipping up my jeans.
“You called me ‘sir’ again, but I’d let you stab me, tesoro. I’d deserve it.” Then, he brings his hand up to his nose. “My torment will be smelling your cunt all day and wishing I’d never left home.”
Shocked laughter once I’ve translated it in my head, and he smiles. My heart feels light despite my throbbing clit. “Can I go to the meeting with you? I liked Frankie.”
“Of course, you would like that little sneak. But Carlo is leaving her with her bodyguard at the airport before their flight, and your sister and the twins will be here any minute.” The thought of Mad walking in now horrifies me.
Nico chuckles over my expression. “Don’t worry.
You look perfect.” I frown, suspecting that’s not entirely true.
“Nico, they’ve arrived.” I flinch from the interruption and hearing Ugo’s voice for the first time. It reminds me of an angry bear with a sore throat.
“Good. See them inside safely,” Nico clips, dismissing the bodyguard.
When he turns to face me again, his cold mask is back in place, but I know how to unmask him.
Reaching down, I grasp the hand that was in my jeans, pulling it up my mouth. His brow furrows until I start sucking on his thumb, staring deep into his smoldering eyes as I do. “You said you would train my lips,” I purr, amazed at my own brazenness. I love watching him crumble.
“Fucking Vicini, I’d offer him half my territory to stay with you right now,” he growls, making me smirk. “But your sister and the children...”
I nod, knowing he’s not about to offer up anything and our intimate moment is over.
“Replace Ersilia if she doesn’t suit you.
Entertain whichever wives you like as often or as rarely as you wish so long as it doesn’t cause discord in the Trio.
The choice is yours. But the new phone and the guards are non-negotiable.
Your safety and the children are too important to me. Is that better?”
I draw my finger up to my chin, pretending to ponder the matter seriously. “It’s a start.”
Once he leaves for his meeting, I decide to reach out to Frankie, wanting to speak to a married woman. She answers right away, sounding giddy. "I hoped you would call. How are you?"
A bit confused about how to handle my husband.
She offered me her friendship, and I intend to take her up on that.