Chapter Nine
Matteo
A man never truly knows what is in his heart until he nearly loses it.
I could have lost her.
The madman who hid within my family could have shot Sofia before we got to her, and that thought still chills my blood with both fear and rage.
A part of me wanted to punish Bruno with more than a few bullet wounds, but that would have meant leaving Sofia alone.
Fuck, I haven’t been able to take my eyes off her for more than a few minutes in the past two days.
I had to trust Nicolo to deal with his brother.
I didn’t realize how much I needed Sofia in my life—how she’d become the center of it—until she woke up one morning happy that I was there.
I’m usually gone before she’s up, but there is something precious about watching the woman I have surrendered my heart to wake up in my arms. Watching her eyes flutter open and her lips stretch in a shy smile sends my heart racing and my body aching for her.
“Good morning, tesoro mio,” I say hoarsely, leaning down and brushing my lips over her forehead. “Did you sleep well?”
She nods, reaching up to cup my bearded jaw. “I slept like a baby. This place is so quiet and peaceful,” she whispers, burrowing deeper into my arm and nuzzling my chest. “I’m so used to the chaos and noise of New York that this feels like a nice change of pace.”
"Hmm," I hum, leaning down to kiss her neck, a gesture meant to soothe, but my cock takes notice, hardening in seconds. I trail my mouth up her neck, seeking her mouth when my phone vibrates on the nightstand.
"Ignore it," Sofia whines when my mouth pauses its movements. "We just started our honeymoon."
I would ignore the message if it weren't of absolute importance. I know who's texting and why, and for once, it has nothing to do with work. But I can’t tell her that.
"I have a surprise for you," I say, pushing away before I give in to my baser needs and make love to her.
However, that would only spoil the day's itinerary, and we're already running behind schedule.
“You need to get ready first.” I laugh when she burrows deeper into the pillow, tossing the covers over her head. "You'll like the surprise, I promise."
At least I hope she does.
Sofia peels the covers down to her eyes and blinks up at me. "What is it?"
"Now it wouldn't be much of a surprise if I told you, would it?" I chuckle, grabbing her hand and pulling her out of bed with me. We take a shower together, and I applaud myself for my considerable restraint, only managing to kiss her senseless in the shower and not much else.
I get out first, hard and aching.
I'm almost done getting dressed when Sofia comes out, that sexy body wrapped in a small towel and her eyes narrowed suspiciously on mine,
"You're up to something," she says, walking to her closet, dropping the towel. I damn near cancel all the plans. "Don't tell me you need to work this morning. Didn't you tell me Leonardo and your brothers would hold down the fort while you’re away?"
She walks to me, naked as the day she was born, and Christ, what a temptress. "I only get you for two weeks. I don't want to share you with your first wife."
I shake my head, trying to follow her train of thought, but Christ, she makes it hard to focus on anything but her and that gorgeous body. "My first wife?"
"Your job," she says with a pout. "You're married to your job, aren't you?"
Maybe before, when my life revolved around building my family's power, but not anymore.
"I'm married to you, only you," I say, cupping her nape and brushing my lips over her forehead.
"And no, I'm not working today. I have a surprise for you.
" It's the strength of a saint that has me pulling away before I can trace my hands down my wife's nude body, kiss the pink pebbles of her nipples, and.
.. Fuck. "Get dressed, Sofia. And meet me on the beach in ten minutes.”
“Ten minutes,” she muses. “Why does that sound oddly familiar?”
“Don’t be late.”
It takes considerable effort to pull away from her, and when I finally leave, my heart is pounding in my ears. I want her. I don’t remember a moment I didn’t want her, but now that I have come to accept my feelings for her, the intensity of it seems to have doubled.
The cool air hits my face when I step out of the bungalow, the scent of salt heavy in the air.
My bare feet sink slightly into the soft, manicured lawn as I walk toward the beach.
The sun is warm this late in the morning, promising another perfect day on the island.
I enjoy the gentle lapping of waves against the shore like I’ve never done when I come here, but this is no honeymoon destination.
My family has owned this island for decades, used as a hub for some of our less-than-legal activities. Somewhere on the island are tunnels that connect underground bunkers and vaults loaded with illegal weapons and laundered cash, but my pretty little bride doesn't need to know any of that.
No, I wasn't lying when I told her I wouldn’t work for the next two weeks. I haven't gotten a break in... ever. Whenever I visit this island, it's for business, but not this time.
As I walk down the beach, the scene I've been coordinating with our siblings finally unfolds.
Brightly colored flowers, hibiscus and bougainvillea, spill from overflowing urns.
White linen-covered tables are scattered across the sand, each adorned with delicate china and sparkling silverware.
There are comfortable, cushioned seats arranged in a semi-circle, facing the ocean.
Laughter and chatter suddenly stops when they spot me.
Outside of the staff I employed to organize the event, there are five members from each of our families.
Seated on one side are my four brothers and little sister, Gabriella.
On the other are Sofia's three sisters and her two cousins.
Perfect. Everyone is here.
"This is so amazing, Matteo," Gabriella says when I approach, beaming at me. "Sofia is going to swallow her tongue when she sees this!”
I embrace my sister, turning to thank everyone else for coming. The yacht that brought them all here is moored at the pier, gleaming in the sun. Everyone here is busy with their own lives, but they did not hesitate to come when I told them my plan for the day.
"She's coming," Gia cries out, clapping her hands excitedly, so I walk to the center and turn to watch my wife walk down the beach toward us.
The sun is warm on my face, but I barely feel it. My heart is hammering frantically against my ribs. I stand rooted to the ground, watching her approach. Her steps are hesitant at first as she processes the scene in front of her.
I watch her eyes widen, a look of utter surprise washing over her face, a beautiful mix of shock and confusion.
Then, it shifts. The surprise softens, melting into something else.
Recognition dawns, and with it, a smile.
It's a slow, hesitant curve at first, then it blossoms, lighting up her entire face. It's pure, unadulterated joy.
The kind a groom would hope to see on his bride’s face.
On their wedding day.
Except on this one, I didn't wake up dreading the day or wishing it over. In this one, I am so deeply in love with my bride that it should be considered unhealthy. And she, with her bright smile and gleaming eyes, isn't so reluctant anymore.
She's radiant. Beautiful in a way my brain fails to process at times.
I watch her as she walks down the sandy beach, stepping on the rose petals.
She's stunning, clad in a floral yellow sundress and sandals.
I take her hand when she stops in front of me, and all the panic I've been carrying for days finally fades.
She's wearing the emerald necklace I gave her on our wedding day, the gem gleaming brightly in the sunlight.
"Matteo, what is this?" she asks, her flushed cheeks turning to our smiling siblings. "When did they get here?"
"This morning," I say, lifting both of her hands to my lips and kissing her knuckles, brushing my lips over the ring on her finger. "Just in time for our wedding."
"We're married, silly," she giggles.
"This one is for us," I tell her. "The first wedding was for our parents and to bring our families together. This one's for us, la mia amata sposa." My beloved bride. Sofia is that and so much more. I kiss the ring again. "Shall we begin?"
She nods, those pretty green eyes welling with tears. "Yes, I can’t believe you did this," she sniffs. "Let's get married, again."
It all plays out differently from the last one.
There is no priest that drones on and on for hours about the sanctity of marriage.
Instead, Antonio officiates, keeping it brief.
The vows exchanged between us are not read from some piece of paper but spoken from our hearts, and so are the speeches from our siblings.
When we have our first dance, my bride is not glaring at me.
There are still food and drinks, but this time, there is laughter…
And when the sun sinks to the horizon, there are cheers from our guests when I sweep my wife off her feet and carry her down the beach and to our bungalow. She’s giggling, a little drunk, too, as we tumble into the bed.
“I actually did it,” she says with a smile, grabbing the lapels of my shirt and yanking me down to her. “I actually married for love.”
I reach out and push a strand from her face. “Was that a dream of yours?
She shakes her head. “I wanted to move out of my parents’ home, work on something I was passionate about, and maybe become the fun aunt to a herd of nieces and nephews. I was too afraid of becoming my mother to want marriage for myself.”
I chuckle. “A herd?”
“Well, I have three sisters,” she laughs, pulling my lips down to hers. When I pull back from the kiss, it’s to find her eyes glittering with affection. “But my dreams have changed. Now I want many babies with your eyes and hair and face.”
“We’d better get started then.” My dick is heavy in my pants as I lean down and take her mouth, kissing until we’re both out of breath. I’m aroused and desperate for her—have been from the moment I woke up. “I love you, Sofia Rossi.”
“I love you, Matteo Rossi,” she whispers. Then, we’re tearing at each other’s clothes.
My hands slide under her dress and rip down her panties.
She yanks at my shirt, nails scraping up my arms as she grabs onto my shoulders.
We’re breathing hard when I line my cock with her wet core and slide home.
She screams, her eyes fluttering closed, but like on our wedding day, I need them on me.
“Don’t,” I growl, already moving in and out of her wet tightness. “Look at me, tesoro mio. Watch me as I make love to you.”
She nods, those pretty green eyes meeting mine in the haze of passion.
And I see no one but her. I feel nothing but her as I rewrite our vows with every thrust into her pussy.
I yank her knee to my hip and drive deeper into her, taking her with the violence of a man seeking to reclaim his mate after she was almost stolen from him.
Mine.
“Yours,” she whispers, grabbing my nape and pulling my head down to hers, her mouth seeking mine in a desperate kiss that sends my stomach clenching in pleasure. “Take me, Matteo. Make me yours. Only yours!”
Our lovemaking turns desperate, hungry until I’m not sure who’s more desperate for the other. She’s wet, dripping around my thrusting cock, her hips lifting to meet my thrusts. My love. My bride…
Mine!
Her breath grows uneven, and her thighs begin to tremble with every thrust. I slide my hand between us and strum her clit, craving her orgasm like my next breath.
I stroke her clit faster, harder as I drive into her, pumping my cock into her with rough grunts, pushing her closer and closer to the edge.
“Oh God!” she cries out and her back bows off the bed.
She’s sobbing, trembling and thrashing under me as she comes.
I’m panting, thrusting into her through her orgasm, burying myself deep until my own climax rips through me.
My tense muscles bunch before releasing in a shudder.
I bury my face in her hair, pumping my seed into her and soaking up her pleasured cries until I’ve poured everything into her.
My heart beats rapidly against hers when my muscles lose tension and go slack on top of her. My cock softens inside of her, but I don’t completely lose my erection. I never seem to, not around her.
I turn my head and kiss her temple, emotions I didn’t think I could experience flooding me. “I love you, Sofia.” It just feels right to say. “I’ll always love and protect you.”
“Hmm,” she hums sleepily. “I have one condition for our marriage now.”
“Anything.”
She turns to look at me, her pretty eyes lidded with sleep and affection. "Stay a while in the mornings. I don't want to wake up alone ever again."
“Done.” I press my lips to her forehead, breathing her in and letting her scent calm the rough beat of my heart. “I’m sorry. No more lonely mornings for you. I will be the first thing you see every morning when you open your eyes for the rest of our lives. I promise, tesoro mio.”
“Good,” she says with a yawn. “I love you, Matteo.”