22. Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Two
Mateo
I left early this morning to oversee the arrival of our latest shipment, but my mind has been consumed by thoughts of Mariella. It’s been like this every fucking day since Antonio attacked her.
What is it about this girl that has me so fixated?
She’s under my skin, lodged so deep I can’t shake her, and we haven’t even spoken since that day.
I don’t understand how or when it happened.
Was it when her father hit her, igniting something primal in me?
Or was it the little things? The first time I heard her voice at the airport, or seeing her all-captivating pretty smile?
Or was it when I discovered the stranger playing the guitar was her?
Perhaps it’s all of it.
Every moment, no matter how busy I am, leads back to her.
It’s maddening!
But I cannot be interested in her.
That’s why I’ve been staying away, or trying to. Yet every night, I still wander into the garden like an addict, just to hear her play.
She’s too young, too inexperienced for me to even entertain the thought. She’s never left Sicily until now, a complete novice to the world beyond.
How exhilarating would it be though, to watch her experience new things? New cultures. New food. New everything.
I can almost picture it. Her wide-eyed excitement, that shy little smile when she tries something for the first time.
No. I need to get my head straight. I like confident, worldly women who own who they are.
This girl?
She can barely look me in the eye without blushing. Though, it’s oddly endearing. It’s a stark contrast to the women I’m used to.
They chase the limelight, revel in the status that comes with being seen on my arm. I never know if they want me or the image of who I am. Not that I’ve ever cared. After a night out, I’m only interested in one thing.
Which is why I choose women who are self-assured, in and outside the bedroom.
Mariella? She’s not that. At least, not yet.
Hmm.
Teaching a virgin all the ways to enjoy her body, to show her exactly how to please a man, how to surrender and take control at the same time, and how to reach unfathomable heights.
Why does that suddenly sound so damn appealing?
Probably because I’ve never done it before.
And never will.
At least not with Mariella Accardi.
Age difference and inexperience aside, she’s Antonio’s daughter.
He’d lose his fucking mind, rightfully so, if anyone laid a hand on her before she’s married.
I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve gone over those reasons in the past few days, drilling them into my head, reminding myself why she’s off-limits.
And yet, they keep looping in my mind, right alongside her smile and that soft voice.
No matter how hard I try, I can’t shake the pull she has on me.
“All seems in order,” Rom tells me, stepping up next to me and bringing me back to the present.
“Great. Can you call by the club and make sure everything arrives there? I’m going home. I need to catch up on a ton of emails.”
When I get home, though, I’m restless. My fingers tap against the desk, my eyes skimming over the screen without absorbing a single word.
A sense of unease coils in my gut. I rub my thumb over my lips, back and forth. Something isn’t right.
What if it’s Mariella? But Antonio has returned to Sicily. She’s safe here.
Still, the unease lingers.
Fuck it. I’ll just check on her.
As I wander through the house, my gaze instinctively searches for her. But she’s not in the garden, by the pool, or in the library, the places I know she likes to spend her time.
I could check her room, but if she’s there, what the hell would I even say?
Instead, I head to the kitchen. If anyone knows where Mariella is, it’s Giulia.
She looks up surprised, when I enter her domain.
“Signor De Marco, I didn’t expect you until later. Would you like an espresso with a slice of torta della nonna ?” she asks with a warm smile. “It’s fresh out of the oven.”
“Thank you. Perhaps later. Do you know where Mariella is?” I keep my tone casual, like it’s just a passing question, nothing more. The last thing I want is to alert Giulia, or anyone else, to my rising interest in the girl.
“Mariella? Oh, she’s not here. Do you need her for something?”
“What do you mean, she’s not here?”
“I sent her sightseeing in Rome this morning,” Giulia replies. “She’s been cooped up in the house since she arrived, and she always sounded so excited about exploring the old monuments.”
Her words hang in the air, twisting my stomach.
Fuck!
It’s not safe for her to be out there alone.
What if her father has men watching, waiting for her to step outside these walls so they can drag her back to Sicily? Or worse, what if our enemies are lurking nearby? They don’t spare women in this war we’ve entered.
A chill rushes through me. I have to find her.
“Has something happened?” Giulia asks, her voice edged with worry.
It better not have. Or there’ll be hell to pay.
I ignore her question.
“Who took her into the city?” I demand, my voice clipped now.
“Gustavo.”
I turn to leave the kitchen, not catching anything else Giulia is saying.
Frustration simmers beneath the surface. It’s not her fault.
I never gave her any instructions about Mariella. She thought she was doing her a favor. But I should have been clearer, should have made it known that Mariella needed to stay close, given the circumstances.
On my way to the office, I call Gustavo. He picks up after the fourth ring.
“Is Mariella with you?” I ask without a greeting.
“No, sir. I dropped her off at Vatican City.”
“Collect her and bring her back,” I order.
There’s silence on the other end.
“What?” I bark.
“Umm, I have no way of reaching her.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t have her phone number. We agreed I’d collect her at five o’clock at the Colosseum.”
God, sometimes my men are idiots. Why didn’t he make sure he has a way to reach her?
I hang up and go to the garage, grabbing a set of keys from the wall.
I wave off the guard rushing to accompany me. I don’t want my entire entourage trailing behind. It would draw too much attention.
“I’ll call you if I need backup,” I tell him sternly.
“But sir, Santino’s orders—”
“Santino is not the boss, I am. Just make sure you answer your fucking phone on the first ring if I call.”
With that, I slide into my black Ferrari, hit the gas, and speed out of the garage and down the driveway.
That sense of unease? It’s settled like a boulder in the pit of my stomach.
Something is not right.