Chapter 45
Annamaria
Winter has swallowed the city whole, snow piling across the balcony outside while I stare out the window, longing for summer again. Longing for the days when my biggest concern was fighting my feelings for my husband while he did his best to tear down every guarded wall around my heart.
It’s been nearly five months since the war started. Six months since I left Chicago. And Lord knows how much longer it will be before this city sees peace again.
I no longer watch the news, too terrified the anchor will read the name of someone I love from the sheet in his hands.
Matteo has kept his promise, though. My parents and siblings are still alive and safe. But according to him, the Outfit severely underestimated how badly the Cosa Nostra wanted freedom from their rule.
The streets run red as both sides slaughter each other, yet the Outfit continues to suffer the heavier losses. New York rejects them like a foreign infection, hunting them down at every turn.
Death after death.
Body after body.
Men I had probably smiled at once inside the halls of the old Salvatore mansion.
I might not have pulled the trigger myself, but that hardly makes me innocent.
Their blood stains my hands all the same.
Yet every guilt-ridden thought disappears the second my husband walks through the front door safe and sound.
It’s always like this. I spend the day drowning in guilt over the bloodshed my love has caused, only to forget every one of my sorrows once night falls and I’m back in his arms.
Thanksgiving is only a few days away, and his love is the only thing I have to be grateful for.
And God help me, it’s enough. More than enough. It’s everything.
What does that say about the woman I’ve become? That I would sooner watch this city burn to the ground than lose the love of my life?
What has happened to me?
“Anna? Are you okay?” a familiar voice calls my name. Unfortunately, it isn’t the one I long for.
“I’m very well, Raffaele. Thank you.”
“Fuck. Raffaele. Whatever happened to calling me Rafe?” he jokes, stepping beside me, but his lightheartedness does very little to calm my nerves.
“I’m not in the mood for your jokes, Rafe,” I reply coldly.
“I can see that.” He frowns. “We haven’t exactly had a chance to talk lately, and I just wanted to check on you.”
“How do you think I’ve been?” I turn to face him.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the sky is falling around us, Rafe.
The whole world is burning down, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
Nothing.” My throat tightens. “All I do, day after day, is stand in front of this window praying the people I love don’t die.
That my brothers and sister don’t get themselves killed trying to save me.
That Matteo…” My voice catches around his name.
“That the man I love comes home to me alive.”
“Oh, I’ve been paying attention, Anna,” he scowls.
“Or did you forget that I’m the one down on those streets killing your father’s men before they get the chance to put me in the ground?
” His jaw tightens. “Oh, I’ve been paying attention plenty.
The only difference is that when I come home, I don’t have a soft bed and a loving wife waiting to help me forget about all the blood I spilled in their name.
Maybe if I did, I’d be willing to watch the world burn too.
Maybe if I got to sink my dick into your wet pussy every night—”
I slap him before he can finish.
The sound cracks through the room so sharply it startles even me.
Raffaele slowly rubs his cheek, his steel-blue eyes darkening into something dangerous.
“I always knew you were weak. But to fall for my brother’s lies… to let him into your bed…”
“Careful, Raffaele. Be very careful about what you say next,” I warn coldly. “You might have once been my best friend, but that does not give you permission to speak badly about my husband. Your brother, if you need the reminder.”
“Oh, I don’t need the reminder. I know exactly who Matteo is.” He lets out a bitter laugh. “You’re the one looking at him through rose-colored glasses. Not me.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about. You have no idea what Matteo had to do to protect you.”
“Protect me?” His brows shoot toward his hairline.
“What, did he tell you the same sob story about our stepmother being cruel to him too? About how she was supposedly about to set my crib on fire with me inside it, and brave little Matteo came to the rescue?” His expression twists with disgust. “Yeah, I heard those stories too. I even believed them at first. But then I remembered Matteo has always known exactly what to say to get people on his side.” His gaze sharpens on mine. “He got you in the end, didn’t he?”
I stare at him, mouth agape, unable to believe what I’m hearing. “When did you become so bitter, Rafe? When did you become so angry at the world and let it consume you?”
“When my own brother married the only woman I ever loved,” he snarls. “That’s when.”
I swallow hard and take a small step back. It isn’t his confession that frightens me. It’s the manic look in his eyes. There’s nothing left of the carefree boy who used to be my friend. Absolutely nothing.
“Is this an exclusive conversation, or can anyone join in?” Matteo drawls from the doorway, instantly pulling both our attention toward him.
“You’re home,” I breathe, relief flooding through me as I rush toward him.
Matteo’s eyes never leave Raffaele’s face.
The moment I’m close enough, Matteo slides an arm around my waist and pulls me firmly against his side before kissing me slow and deep, so sweetly tender it makes my toes curl.
“I knew you wanted to go to church tonight,” he murmurs against my lips. “So I made sure to wrap things up early.”
He says it so casually that, for a second, he almost sounds like a man coming home from a normal nine-to-five job instead of whatever horrors his work actually entails. I’m not entirely sure what wrapping things up early means in Matteo’s world, but it’s the thought behind it that matters.
“Must be nice being the boss,” Raffaele mutters, making sure we remember he’s still standing there.
“It is,” Matteo replies smoothly, his gaze still fixed on mine.
We both hear Raffaele mutter a curse under his breath before storming out of the living room.
The second he’s gone, my shoulders sag with exhaustion, and I melt into my husband’s chest, needing the comfort of his arms around me.
“Should I be worried about my brother?” Matteo asks softly, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.
A burning yes lodges itself in my throat. There was something deeply unsettling in Raffaele’s eyes tonight, something wild and fractured. But Matteo already carries the weight of an entire war on his shoulders. He doesn’t need this burden too.
If whatever darkness I saw in Raffaele comes to pass, then I’ll deal with it when the time comes.
“No,” I murmur. “You don’t have to worry about him. I can handle Raffaele.”
Matteo tilts my chin upward, carefully studying my face. “Are you sure? If he’s causing you distress, I can ask him to move out. Honestly, I’m a little surprised he hasn’t already.”
“No, it’s fine,” I assure him gently. “Like I said, I can handle Rafe. You already have enough on your plate.”
He searches my eyes for a minute, worry shadowing his expression. “You know there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you, right?”
“I know.” I smile softly, my pulse quickening from the adoration shining in his gaze.
“I wish I could give you more, vita mia,” he whispers, resting his forehead against mine.
“You’ve given me everything, my love.” I press my palm against his heart. “As long as this belongs to me, then I have all I need.”
He leans in to kiss me, and I let his tenderness wash over me, erasing every doubt and worry clouding my mind. I melt into him, savoring the moment, knowing that as long as I’m in his arms, nothing else in this world can touch me.
By the time he finally pulls away, I’m completely breathless…and needy.
“Careful, wife,” he rasps, his voice dropping an octave. “You look like you’d rather get thoroughly fucked than go to church right now.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks at the insinuation in his tone, the familiar spark between us igniting instantly.
“Maybe I would,” I tease, wiggling my brows as I drag my index finger slowly across the seam of his bottom lip. “I think I can spare an hour or two. Unless of course, you don’t want to.”
A laugh bubbles out of me when his expression immediately darkens, his grip on my waist tightening possessively.
“You really shouldn’t have said that,” he warns, though the amusement dancing in his eyes gives him away.
I giggle as he suddenly scoops me into his arms, letting out a small squeal when he throws me over his shoulder and starts carrying me up the three flights of stairs toward our bedroom like an absolute madman.
“Matteo!” I laugh breathlessly, swatting at his back while he grins to himself, far too pleased with his own antics.
“You asked for this, wife,” he warns, his hand tightening against the back of my thighs as he carries me upstairs. “You’re the one who said church can wait. Good thing too since you’re the only thing I feel like worshipping right now.”
My giggle dies the second he slaps my ass, heat rushing through me so quickly it steals the breath from my lungs.
Matteo storms into our bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him before tossing me onto the bed with enough force to make me shriek in surprise.
He stands at the edge of the mattress for a moment, staring at me like a man starved, his gaze dragging slowly over every inch of my body as I push my dress higher up my thighs, showing him that I don’t have any panties on.
“You know you’re the light of my life,” he says quietly, his voice rough around the edges as he stares at my bare pussy. “And that I respect you more than anyone else in this world,” he continues, while unbuckling his pants.