Page 99 of Mafia King: Matteo
“Who was that?”
“Someone I know. How is the beef?” Our dinner has been served, and I have skillfully deflected more questions.
“Excellent. You would know if you were here when it was hot. How do you know the woman who looks like a model?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” I say, acting coy to tease her. Honestly, I’m surprised my sister is here. She’s studying special arts in Switzerland and is working her way into the circles where we need to make friends—with billionaires. As far as I’m concerned, there are only a few who came by their wealth legitimately. Legitimate businesses often employ shady tactics to extract money from unsuspecting consumers and business partners. We both have one thing in common—we are self-serving.
Alena turns enough to give me the cold shoulder after the visit with my sister, but I’d rather Bianca remains anonymous as she might be working an angle. At the least, she’s making contacts.
My little Angel is jealous. I can’t dampen the smirk on my face. She cares for me. Perhaps she loves me. I find it amusing, but I know I’ll have to come clean before I’m allowed to fuck her again.
I notice men passing by, and their eyes go to my wife. I dive into my food like a starving man to avoid bashing in faces.
Alena pulls her phone out of her purse. She sends a text and leans into me. “Mom says Dad hasn’t returned from a meeting tonight. She’s worried.”
“He might turn up. It could be traffic. Who knows?”
“I played it off. What do you think?”
I glance at Dmitry to my right. He has an excellent alibi if a top figure in the Russian bratva goes missing tonight.
“Jury is out on this one. We both know Alexsei will not let a traitor have a second chance. Besides, this event is the perfect alibi for all concerned.”
“I agree. I feel bad if that’s the case, but he created the situation.”
“That he did,” I reply. Things are heating up across the city. The Irish are intent on pinning Finn’s overdose on someone. The Russians have a traitor at the top, I’m getting married, and then there is the death of Chiara.
I can’t imagine she’d hurt anyone in the family. We loved her, and she was one of us. She was sweet and caring, and I welcomed her into the family because she loved my brother and made him happy. Now, I’m second-guessing her integrity. What am I missing?
Dinner plates are cleared, and the music turns to an upbeat song to encourage dancing. The emcee encourages the guests to dance, and the music is lively. I’m sure he wants to turn this into a festive party, so we all leave wearing a smile and nursing sore feet.
Great. However, it’s time I show the men who have spent the evening eye-fucking my future wife who she belongs to.
I stand and pull her into my chest. She wants to resist me, but I overpower her without causing a scene and tell her she’s to dance with me. If she doesn’t, there will be a punishment.
“You wouldn’t,” she says, her voice enraged.
“Really? How well do you know me?” I insist.
“As well as you know me.”
“Then I say we call a truce until later. Let’s give all the men eye-fucking you a picture of a happily engaged couple. It’s time they learn to keep their eyes on their wives.”
“And what of you?” she asks defiantly.
“I only have eyes for you,” I reply honestly.
“The woman you spoke to at the bar was beautiful.”
“Do you believe I would be interested in anyone else?” I ask with lust in my eyes. She’s in my arms. I move around the dance floor as she tries to keep up.
“We have a deal, Mr. Grey.” She didn’t have to remind me to be faithful to her. I was committed the minute I saw her.
“We do, and I’ll never break it. You are my Angel,” I say as I kiss her crimson-red painted lips. I pull her closer to my chest. She’s the sole focus of my attention. “Follow my lead.”
“I’m trying,” she replies as she steps on my foot. She giggles and buries her head in my chest. A chuckle bubbles in my chest, and she tosses her head back to see the smile on my face. We laugh over her awkwardness on the dance floor.
“I think you had too much champagne with dinner.”
