Page 65 of Mafia King: Matteo
“I made coffee and added sugar to it for you.”
“You don’t have to do that, Ms. Pasnov.”
“We’re going to be together for a long time. Please call me Alena.”
“Only when Mr. Borrelli isn’t around,” he says, taking the warm cup.
“It will be our secret. Knock if you need anything.”
“Thank you, Alena. You’re very kind,” he replies appreciatively.
“It’s no problem—have a good night.”
“You, too,” he says, and I close and lock the door again.
It’s a small token of my appreciation. The condo is quiet, and I’m surprised no one has complained about the foreigner walking the halls. I guess there are lurkers everywhere—it’s New York City. Or have people learned to keep their noses out of other people’s business?
As if that will ever happen. I chuckle at my joke.
I walk to the window and glance below. I love the light flurries falling under the streetlights of Central Park. Izzy is right. The location is good for traffic and lessens the chance that someone would attempt to abduct me at my condo. I can’t fight Matteo on moving in with him. I will feel safer in his house and with him by my side.
I’m stunned by how much Matteo keeps hidden behind his sultry eyes. I wonder if he’ll have to tell me lies. Who am I kidding? Of course, he will. He’s a savvy businessman. I have no doubt he can be cunning. As much as I hate that he played the game perfectly with my father to get his building and me, I assume his acuity in certain situations will keep him safe. He exploited my father’s weakness for his gain. He’s a worthy adversary to anyone who dares to challenge him.
My father has no idea what he’s gotten the bratva into.
I’m holding more and more secrets daily. At this rate, I’ll be lying to Izzy about my entire life. I wonder how much she knows about the bratva that she can’t share with me. Does Matteo feel like he is living a double life? I’m beginning to feel like my life is getting away from me.
I undress, and damn Matteo for making me so horny. I pull on pajamas and rummage through my drawers for items I want to take with me as if I’m going on an extended weekend stay at the Hamptons.
Only it’s winter.
I pack essentials into the overnight roller luggage, ensuring I have loungewear since it’s Friday tomorrow. I’ll sort out work clothes later.
I reserve the room to toss my toiletry items into the bag in the morning. What is waiting for me at his mansion? He said I didn’t need to bring much. He has staff who could pack my closet for me if I were to ask.
After I’ve removed the smeared lipstick, I wash the makeup off my face and stare at myself in the mirror over the vanity.
“Who are you?”
I wonder if I’ll become lost in Matteo’s world and be like that lonely woman at the piano bar in my forties, one day, wishing I had a man who loved me.
Perhaps Matteo is preoccupied with the startling events he shared with me tonight. I know I would have a tough time sleeping at night, knowing someone murdered my father and that I might be next.
Maybe I should be relieved that I’m a woman and that I am not expected to take over for my father one day. It sounds like Matteo always knew it was his destiny.
What is mine?
The mafia doesn’t always protect a traitor’s family. I doubt Matteo’s father betrayed his family. I mean, the man had five kids. I want to think he wouldn’t put them in jeopardy. But what do I know?
I remember reading about the mafioso killers I’ve seen online, and the one called The Icepick had a family. He was the mafia enforcer who used torture to gain answers. The only code he lived by was that he didn’t kill children.
As if that makes him a model citizen. I huff. I’m in a pickle—the kind wedged in a jar packed with others. We’re all green, sandwiched tightly, and we can’t run. I’m stuck.
My life went from opportunity flowering before me with a new job to one of obscurity and a life where I will live in the fray. I console myself with the fact that Izzy is in a similar situation—only her husband loves her, and they’re having a baby together.
I hope my stomach won’t always be in knots. With any luck, Matteo will find out who is behind his father’s death soon, and our lives will return to normal. Only I don’t know what normal is.
He made it clear our marriage is a business arrangement. I’d be delusional if I thought for one second he would ever fall in love with me.
