“What’s tomorrow night?”
I groaned, pressing my forehead to hers. “Just another thing that’s going to keep me from tying you up in bed and having my way with you every hour of every day.”
She nipped my lip. “Remember when you insisted we were just roommates?”
“I have no memory of that.”
She bit my lip harder. “Romeo was right. You really do need to have your memory checked. What’s happening tomorrow?”
“One of my capos is throwing an engagement party for his daughter.” I hesitated, unsure if I should tell her what I suspected about a traitor. Sofiya was trustworthy, I knew that, but something held me back. I’d made the mistake of trusting before, and it had cost me everything.
Her hand tightened on my jacket. “You want me to go with you?” She sounded shocked, a little line appearing between her brows.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Well… I just wasn’t sure if you’d want to be seen in public with me.”
Something squeezed my chest. “And why wouldn’t I want that?” My voice was low, an edge of warning in it. My wife squirmed and avoided eye contact. I gripped her chin, forcing her to meet my gaze.
“Sofiya.”
“My father never wanted to be seen with me after I got my rollator. And now I’m in a wheelchair.”
“I’m not your fucking father,” I bit out.
She jolted, startled, and blinked quickly. “I know. I’m sorry.” Her lower lip started to tremble, and I felt like the biggest asshole in the world.
“Tesoro mio.” I wrapped my arms around her, lifting her in my arms and carrying her to the couch. “I hate that you could think for even a second that I would be ashamed of you. You are the most beautiful”—I kissed her forehead—“sweet”—I kissed her nose—“perfect wife.” I kissed her lips. “The only reason I wouldn’t want you with me is because it means other men will look at what’s mine.”
Her cheeks flushed a beautiful shade of pink. “You’re ridiculous.”
I pulled her in for a kiss, licking into her mouth and groaning at her sweetness. She could think me ridiculous all she liked, but I wouldn’t hesitate to remove the eyes of any man whose gaze lingered on my wife.
46
SOFIYA
Itugged on my dress as I looked in the mirror, hating how the fabric awkwardly pooled around my stomach and hips, making me look even bigger than I already was. Tonight was important. It was the first time Matteo and I would be going to a Family event, and I didn’t want to embarrass him. I was wearing one of the dresses Sienna got me—the sparkly, silver one. It had felt magical and perfect in the dressing room with her, but now reality was setting in.
My father’s cruel words kept playing in my mind, telling me what a pathetic waste of space I was. I heard my mother point out my new fat rolls, acquired after so many afternoons baking for Matteo and the guards. Would my husband be ashamed to have me by his side at events? Bratva wives were always perfectly thin and glamorous as they stood by their husbands. I had hoped to feel confident and elegant at this dinner, but instead I just felt a little sad and frumpy.
I patted Noodle’s head. “Fetch my bag.” He pranced off to get my medication bag from its spot by the bed, placing it in my lap when he returned. I gave him a treat and then fished out my pain meds, dry swallowing two pills.
I jolted when Matteo’s reflection appeared behind me in the mirror, meeting my gaze with dark eyes. His expression was serious as always, but I thought I was getting better at picking up little micro-expressions in my husband’s face. I took in his perfectly tailored black suit, stretching across his muscular chest, and the way his hair fell lazily in his face. I wanted to run my hands through it.
Without a word, he pulled out a black velvet box from his coat pocket and placed it on my lap. His lips skimmed the top of my head as he leaned over my chair.
“For me?” I asked, trying to keep my voice cool, as if my insides weren’t melting.
He just gave me a look in the mirror.
I grinned and bounced a little. “It’s for me.”
I ran my fingers down the smooth velvet and opened the box. Inside was a delicate silver locket with flowers engraved around the edge.
“It’s beautiful.” I tilted my head back and gripped his tie, pulling him down to meet my lips in an upside-down kiss. “Thank you,” I whispered as my lips brushed against his.
My husband stood back up, clearing his throat as he straightened his tie. I held back my smile. I had flustered him.