Chapter Five #2
We eat together at the dining table—our first real meal as husband and wife. He asks about my day, tells me about a deal he’s working on (keeping it vague, but still sharing). It’s... normal. Domestic. Strange and wonderful all at once.
“I start work on Monday,” I tell him over dessert—store-bought tiramisu because I’m not that ambitious.
His eyes meet mine. “At the fashion house.”
“Yes.” I brace myself for the fight.
“Good,” he says simply. “You worked hard for that degree. You should use it.”
I blink. “You’re not going to tell me to stay home?”
“Why would I?” He takes a sip of wine. “I hired a driver. He’ll take you to work and pick you up every day. Non-negotiable.”
It’s controlling, but also... protective. And given his world, I understand it. “Okay.”
His lips curve slightly. “Okay.”
After dinner, he pulls me onto the couch, my back against his chest as we half-watch some documentary he put on. His fingers trace lazy patterns on my arm.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here this morning,” he says quietly. “I had an early meeting; I couldn’t reschedule.”
“You could have woken me.”
“You were exhausted.” His hand tightens on my hip. “I wore you out.”
I feel my cheeks heat. “You did.”
“I’ll make it up to you.”
And he does. Slowly this time, carrying me to bed and taking his time learning every inch of me. When I fall asleep, it’s in his arms, finally feeling like maybe this marriage could be more than just a transaction.
The pattern continues. Every evening, Matteo comes home by seven for dinner.
Sometimes I cook, sometimes he orders in, but we always eat together.
We talk—about my work, his day, our families.
He’s gone before I wake, but he leaves notes now.
Little things: “Coffee’s ready. See you tonight, tesoro mio. ” Or “Don’t work too hard, Mrs. Rossi.”
Mrs. Rossi. I’m starting to like the sound of that.
Two weeks pass in this strange, sweet routine. Mornings alone, days at work, evenings with my husband, nights tangled together. My sisters notice the change in me—I’m happier, softer. Even my mother comments that marriage suits me when I see her at Sunday dinner.
The opportunity to spend real time with him outside the penthouse presents itself in the form of an event at his family's home on a Saturday afternoon. The driver he hired to chauffeur me drops me at his father’s estate.
Gabriella grabs me and pulls me into conversation immediately.
I don’t get to see Matteo, not even when everyone gathers around the large table outside for lunch.
Even Leonardo is here, and he’s the head of the family!
I lean toward Gabriella, who's seated next to me, to ask where the hell my husband is.
“He’s in Dad’s office, working.” she says with an eyeroll.
“But everyone is here!”
“I know,” she says, reaching for her glass of wine and taking a sip. “Matteo has always been like that. If you ask me, he would have worked on his wedding day too if Dad hadn't put his foot down."
“This is ridiculous,” I hiss, pushing my seat back, fed up by his absence. “I’m going to find him.”
I’m not sure what I plan on doing when I do find him, but it’s the principle of the thing. We spend our evenings together now. He can spare an afternoon with his family. With me.
"First floor, second door on the left," Gabriella tells me with a laugh, giving me directions to her father’s office. I excuse myself from the table, walk back to the house, and head straight to the office. I knock once and when he doesn’t answer, I let myself in.
The office is spacious with a mahogany desk that dominates the room.
The walls are lined with bookshelves, and there is a subtle scent of old paper, expensive cologne, and alcohol.
The latter is from the whiskey sitting on the desk, untouched.
My eyes find my husband, and I can tell that I've taken him by surprise but his expression immediately clears. He's on a call, with sheets of paper spread on the desk. I know I should leave and give the man some privacy to finish the call before bombarding him with questions I've carried for days.
But I don’t leave.
Something about those dark eyes, sexy as they are, pins me to the floor.
“No, Luca,” he says into the phone. “They fucking brought this on themselves. They tried to cheat us and thought that we wouldn’t notice.”
This is clearly a private call. I’ve met this Luca guy once when I was visiting Gabriella. He appeared to be close to the family, and I was told that he was one of Matteo’s right-hand men. Whatever they are discussing is clearly private… I should leave.
My feet move, but instead of heading for the door, I find myself walking toward my husband. He raises a single brow and swings his chair around to face me when I round the desk.
“If we let this slight go unpunished, they’ll try to fuck with us again,” he says into the phone, but those eyes stay locked on mine. "Someone will have to pay.”
He’s not asking me to leave, I realize.
But then again, he doesn’t seem in any hurry to end the call either. I bet I could make him do it.
With my heart pounding in my chest, I step between his legs and slowly sink to my knees on the carpet.
His eyes light up with surprise, then heat when I bring my hand to the bulge in his pants, watching with fascination as his dick hardens under my palm.
Slowly, I unzip my husband's pants, keeping my eyes on his as I slide my hand into his boxers and grab his hard cock.
I catch the subtle change in his breathing and feel him thickening in my palm.
He’s so big and warm. Something about his reaction to my touch sends heat rushing through my body and settling between my thighs.
"Tell them we'll only pay half the price we initially agreed on just for fucking with us," he grumbles into the phone. "They will accept this if they don't want us to sever all business ties with them!"
His jaw clenches, and the hand around his phone tightens when I start stroking him. He still doesn’t hang up. I lean down and lick the head of his cock, smiling when he jolts slightly but doesn’t end the call.
I accept the challenge for what it is.
With my eyes locked on his, I open my mouth around the fat tip of his cock, gently sucking at the head before sliding down.
I groan at the musky taste of his cock and the way it stretches my lips.
Something about being on my knees in this office, servicing him as he talks on the phone, does things to me.
I forget all about seducing him to end the call.
A hand snakes into my hair, and those eyes fire up with need as he pushes his length deeper before pulling me back up.
I manage to take a breath before my head is pushed back to his hardness, taking more in.
My eyes well up with tears as he thrusts into my throat before pulling back.
He repeats the motion, and we develop a rhythm with my head bobbing on his lap, gasping around his thick shaft.
One hand stays on my head and the other on the phone gripped tightly, but I can tell he's already hung up.
I don't get to celebrate before he pulls his cock out of my lips, then I am being dragged to my feet.
I gasp when he spins me around to face the desk, bending me over the scattered papers.
My heart races when I feel his hand snake under my dress, grab my panties, and yank them down my hips.
I’m wet.
My pussy aches as he shoves my legs apart, a hand on my back pinning me to the desk. I’m already trembling when I feel the blunt head of his shaft press against my wet entrance seconds before he slams into me. I scream, totally forgetting where we are.
“Scream all you want, Sofia. These walls are soundproof," he growls into my hair, pulling out before slamming back into me.
I barely have my wits about me before he starts fucking me like a madman.
I reach for the heavy statue on the table for something to grip but it rolls off the desk, right along with the papers.
“Oh God,” I cry, feeling myself grow slicker with every slide of his hard cock, filling me, stretching me… It’s too much. But then again, it’s never enough. I never seem to get enough when he touches me.
He circles my hips and dips his hand between my legs, stroking my clit as he drives his cock harder into me.
Faster and faster until I am shaking, feeling my own orgasm build at the speed of lightning.
When it explodes, I can barely hold back the scream that tears from my throat. Thank heavens for the soundproof walls.
It’s Matteo’s name on my lips as the friction on my clit sends me to the edge.
My sensitive flesh clenches hard, my walls pulsing around his length.
It takes two more thrusts before he climaxes with a harsh grunt, spraying wet heat into my core.
My knees turn to jelly as he floods me with his release, pouring so much of it into me that I feel it drip down my thighs.
His thrusts turn shallow and jerky until I've milked him of every drop, then he goes slack against me.
“Are you okay, tesoro mio?” he asks, kissing my nape before pushing back. I wince when I feel the tickle of his release down my inner thighs. I hear him open and close a drawer, followed by the sound of ripping paper. “I was a little rough with you.”
“No, it’s fine,” I say, blushing when I feel him run a cold, wet wipe between my thighs. I keep silent as he cleans me up and then himself. He disposes of the wipes and turns me around to face him, those dark eyes narrowing on mine.
"What's wrong?" he asks, and this is the opening I have been hoping for all afternoon. But the argument I’d planned—about him working too much, neglecting family time—dissolves on my tongue. Because over the past two weeks, he’s been coming home every night.
Making time for me. For us. [Changed to reflect new dynamic]
“Everyone’s outside,” I say instead. “Your whole family. And you’re in here working.”
His jaw tightens. “I had to handle—”
“Luca could have handled it.” I press my palm to his chest. “You work all day. You come home for me every night, and I love that. But today, your father is out there. Your sister. Your brothers. They want to spend time with you, too.”
His expression softens slightly. “You’re right.”
“I am?”
“Don’t sound so surprised, Mrs. Rossi.” He catches my hand, brings it to his lips. “Let me finish up here. Five minutes. Then I’m all yours.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
And he keeps it. Five minutes later, we’re walking back outside hand in hand. When Lorenzo makes a joke about how long we were gone, Matteo just pulls me closer and kisses my temple.
And now, I don’t know what the hell I am supposed to do or say when it’s clear that I am falling in love with my husband!