Page 89 of His Tesoro

Matteo must have heard the distress in my voice because he helped me get into my chair without argument. Still, he wore a disgruntled expression—one that I now understood to mean he was frustrated that he wasn’t holding me anymore, not angry with me.

“Come on,” he said, gripping my hand firmly. “I have to talk to people.”

“You sound as if you’d rather be tortured,” I said with a grin.

“He probably would,” Angelo said.

I snorted and took the dog leash from him. Noodle stayed close by my side as Matteo led me further into the courtyard.

The Made Men almost shoved each other out of the way in an effort to get to Matteo first, looking like peacocks as they puffed up their chests in an effort to be impressive. They all greeted me kindly enough, but their attention immediately returned to their Don.

After thirty minutes of listening to tedious conversations about shipping routes, weapons manufacturing, and drug running, I was overwhelmed and bored in equal measure. I couldn’t focus on what anyone was saying with all the noise, the bustle of people, and my fear of being judged. Noodle rested his head on my leg and the weight of it grounded me, but I had still reached my limit.

I tugged on Matteo’s hand. He immediately held up his hand to stop the man in front of him mid-sentence and turned his attention to me.

“What do you need, tesoro?” He leaned down and cupped my face.

“I’m going to go with Angelo and get a drink. Do you want anything?”

“Fuck,” he muttered. “I should have gotten you something when we got here.”

“You have important things to do.”

He scowled. “Nothing is more important than taking care of you.”

I smiled and ran my thumb up his furrowed brow. “You do take care of me, miliy. Now, do you want a drink?”

“You get one for yourself. I’ll join you soon.” He kissed me on the forehead before reluctantly turning back to the man in front of him, who was staring at our exchange with bewilderment.

Angelo and I headed to the outdoor bar. “Why did that man look so shocked?” I asked him.

“The Boss has never been seen with a woman all these years,” he said. “And they’ve certainly never seen him treat someone like he does you.”

My cheeks heated at how special his words made me feel. I gave Noodle a treat while I waited for Angelo to bring me a drink. A group of Mafia wives stood to the side of the garden with perfectly styled hair, elegant dresses, and expensive jewelry practically dripping off of them. When they caught me looking, they all quickly turned away. A squirming, uncomfortable feeling rose in my chest, but I forced myself to sit tall, trying to take my husband’s words to heart. I was a queen and belonged here just as much as they did.

“Where do you want to go?” Angelo asked, my drink in hand.

“How about there?” I pointed to a quiet spot at the edge of the lawn. Twinkle lights were strung above us in this part of the garden, making it feel almost cozy. We headed over there, my new wheelchair handling the terrain easily.

“I wonder if they’re worried my condition is contagious,” I quipped, nodding at the women who were sneaking looks at me.

“Ignore them, bella. If they were smart, they’d be all over you trying to gain your favor.”

I hummed, taking my drink from Angelo. I should be grateful they were keeping their distance. I didn’t have the energy for small talk tonight, but the feeling I’d had most of my life of always being unwanted and left out crept up my throat. I blinked and looked away from them.

Noodle moved his head back on my lap, as if sensing I needed some extra support. I stroked his head absentmindedly as I observed the crowd.

There were at least fifty people here. Most of the men were significantly older than Matteo, which filled me with a measure of pride at how young he was when he’d taken over as Don and how successful he’d been all these years. The atmosphere was lively with people drinking and laughing, but there was also an edge of tension I recognized from the Bratva gatherings I’d attended. The feeling that traitors and threats could be lurking in every corner.

“Shit,” Angelo said, looking at his watch. “Enzo needs backup inside the house.” Tension lined his jaw as he wavered, unsure of what to do.

“I’ll be fine here. I have Noodle and Matteo is just over there.”

He looked down at his watch again and cursed at whatever message Enzo had sent. “Do not move from this spot, Sofiya. I mean it.”

“I won’t,” I promised.

My guard gave me a curt nod and then strode quickly towards the French doors. Matteo caught his movement and looked over at me, his face like thunder. I gave him an awkward wave and thumbs up. He checked his watch, his expression growing tense.

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