90. Chapter Ninety
Chapter Ninety
Mateo
R om and I step into my home office, and I shrug off my suit jacket, tossing it over a nearby chair. Every muscle in my body is tired as I sink onto the leather sofa, rubbing a hand down my face.
It’s been a week from hell. Though Antonio’s funeral was somewhat of a highlight.
Rom moves to the side table, reaching for the decanter. He pours two generous drinks and hands me one.
“Thanks,” I mutter, taking the glass. “I need this after the day we’ve had.”
“For the week we’ve had,” Rom corrects, exhaling sharply as he drops into the chair across from me.
Seven days. Seven relentless, brutal days since Mari and I returned to Sicily. And in that time, I’ve been fighting one fire after another, sometimes literally.
“Tell me about it,” Rom grumbles. “I don’t even have time to fuck.”
I chuckle, taking a sip of my drink. “That’s not like you. You always make time. The little waitress in Rome wouldn’t have anything to do with it, would she?”
He doesn’t answer, just swirls the whiskey in his glass.
I arch a brow. “How is she, anyway?”
“Still married,” he huffs.
“Oh. And faithful by the sounds of it.” I smirk. “Not many resist your charm.”
His mouth tightens into a thin line before he knocks back the rest of his drink in one go.
“Guest room for me tonight,” he says, standing. “See you in the morning to rinse and repeat.”
The door closes behind him, leaving me alone with the silence. I let out a long breath, my head falling back against the couch as I stare up at the ceiling.
Tiero was right.
The vultures are out, circling, exploiting our vulnerabilities during this leadership transition. And they’ve joined forces.
Every day brings another attack, another problem. The new territories are unstable. Every morning I wake up to more bad news. Shipments gone missing, soldiers killed. It’s endless.
I need to act swiftly. Ruthlessly. Without mercy. The last two were drilled into me from a young age, but they aren’t in my nature.
Not yet, at least.
I still have a heart, and I don’t want to strip that away completely.
But I need to send the right message from the start of my reign.
I close my eyes, letting the quiet settle around me for a moment.
And then there’s Mari.
Not being able to see her as often as I want puts me in a foul mood all on its own. She’s been cooped up in the house because it’s too dangerous for her to leave the grounds.
Isabella and Mia have moved in temporarily, keeping her company along with her mother while they plan Tiero’s memorial service this weekend. Distant family and allies from all over the world are coming, which means security will be at an all-time high.
The same goes for our wedding reception and Rite of Command ceremony, though we’ve pushed those into the early new year, hoping things will be calmer by then.
Mari has been incredible, never once complaining about how little time we have together and always supporting me in any way she can. She knows I’d rather be with her than chasing down the bastards responsible for the sabotage and murders.
As soon as things settle, we’ll escape to Tuscany for a few days… just her and me. The thought keeps me going.
The door opens softly, followed by the quiet shuffle of footsteps.
For the first time today, my lips curve into a genuine smile.
I crack my eyes open as Mari tiptoes closer, wrapped in a dark green negligee, her favorite color, and mine now too.
The dim light plays against the delicate fabric, casting soft shadows over her curves, teasing at what lies beneath. My chest tightens, heat pooling low in my stomach.
God, she’s breathtaking.
Her hair cascades over one shoulder in loose waves, the silky strands catching the light as she tucks a wayward piece behind her ear. The motion draws my attention to her fingers, to the rings that sit there.
My rings.
My claim.
Something primal stirs inside me at the sight.
Then my gaze drifts lower.
The negligee clings to her like a second skin, the sheer fabric hinting at her bare form beneath. Every slow, deliberate step she takes makes the hem whisper against her thighs. My pulse kicks up, blood rushing south, my exhaustion from moments ago vanishing like it was never there.
She’s temptation itself.
A muscle in my jaw ticks as I drink her in, hot and insistent desire building in my veins. My fingers twitch, aching to touch, to tear away the thin barrier between us and feel all of her.
When she finally reaches me, she doesn’t hesitate. She slides onto my lap, her arms winding around my neck, pressing herself against me. Soft, warm, intoxicating.
My hands move instinctively, skimming along the smooth skin of her thighs, tracing the delicate lace at the edge of her negligee. Her heat seeps into me, and I bite back a groan as my body hardens against her.
A knowing smile lights up her face as she shifts, pressing even closer, her warmth enveloping me right where I need her most.
Fuck.
I lick my lips, my breath rougher now.
“You’re trying to kill me, dolce mia .”
She leans in, brushing her lips against mine, her breath hot and teasing.
“No,” she whispers. “Just trying to bring you back to life.”