Page 68 of Mafia King: Matteo
I texted Alena that I would take care of it tomorrow. I also typed Good night, Angel.
“She told me she and Izzy are like sisters, and I hope our marriage will be accepted. I don’t think there is an etiquette book for the type of situation I was in. Do I go to the father of the bride or the bratva’s don? Tough call,” I say, bemused by the situation.
However, it appears the don’s first love was lost over politics, so I’m feeling confident he’ll make the best of mine. I can hope. I’ve dealt with cartel leaders and gangs over the years. How tough will it be to meet the don?
Meanwhile, hours later, when I’m in bed and can’t sleep, I admit I’m nervous. I’ve been ballsy, even reckless. I’ve put Alena and Izzy in a vice grip that could have serious repercussions. What would that be? I can’t say. If Alena loses Izzy, she’ll never forgive me. She’s lost her parents this week, and I don’t know when or if she will get over her father’s business deal that goes against his oath.
She’s been forced to keep secrets that no one in her position should be asked to carry, and it’s why we protect our women from what we do. Our souls turn black, and we hope the women will love us and keep the family together. I won’t do anything to put friction between her and Izzy again. One can only be loyal to a person who is trustworthy. Once trust is lost, the situation is irrevocably broken. I’ve lived this with my father, and I have no wish to carry the family legacy of lies and betrayal.
I can’t come between my bride and her best friend. The only silver lining is that if we were in an alliance, Alena would be even more protected if something were to befall me. She was right. Having Russian support will make me formidable if I enter a war.
In the morning, I received a text that the announcement and the picture Gio took of us at dinner would be in the paper. It’s not the standard boring pose a photographer takes, but it will suffice. I need to avoid the gossip, which travels faster than wildfire. We’re moving so fast that people will wonder if Alena is pregnant.
There’s a thought. I wonder how she feels about that, but it’s happening either way.
After my workout, Federico prepares breakfast, and since Gio isn’t here yet, I eat in the kitchen so we can catch up.
“What would you like for dinner tonight, Matteo? I don’t know what Alena would like.”
“Thank you. However, I have no idea what to introduce her to next. For a woman of means raised in the city, I thought she would have every nook for great food on her GPS.”
Federico chuckles. “You’re different.”
“No, I’m the same cranky don you’ve always known.”
“Alena is a pretty woman. Gio showed me her picture.”
“Did he?” Hm. I guess the three of us have lived lives void of women we’d feel worthy of, considering what we do. It doesn’t escape my attention that my men have been discussing my future wife, and they both seem to agree on her being too good for me. This is a first.
Gio arrives as Federico and I finish our chat. I stand and pull on my suit jacket. He takes the trench coat Federico hands him, and we leave through the kitchen door and pass two guards who are walking the grounds.
They nod in acknowledgment, and I let myself into the limo. We arrive at Don Sidovo Long Island estate thirty minutes later. We stop at his security gate, and we’re buzzed in, so we drive onto the grounds.
The house is modern, off-white stucco with dark brown brickwork. The arch over the large front door is a northern touch, and the drive has been shoveled.
“I wish I had a drink,” I murmur. The house is meant to exude wealth and power, and it does. The fact that the Russians are notorious for being ruthless is not lost on me. I know that on more than one occasion, a few were psychotic over the years, putting the fear of death in local citizens if they so much as walked past a house they owned.
“If I pull this off, I’m a genius. The Volkovs are international, and Dmitry’s marriage to Izzy will make him the next don. I wonder when that will occur.”
“There’s no rumor of a date. I suspect after his daughter is born.”
“Ah, yes, that would be a great gift for a grandchild to a man who’s had many disappointments in life.”
“You pull this off, and you are merging us with the largest Russian family in the world. Think of the new connections you’ll have, not to mention the men behind Dmitry will support you too, should you need it.”
“That’s a valid point. However, I need to walk through that door.” I slip the gun out of the holster on my belt and hand it to Gio, who puts it in the glove box. He slides his weapon in as well.
Gio opens my door, and I straighten my collar as if meeting my father-in-law. The difference between Alexsei and Alena’s father is that I respect this man.
The door opens before Gio knocks, and the servant leads us into a room with scones and a light lunch displayed in a palatial solarium overlooking an indoor pool at the back of the mansion. A man in a black suit who looks like a pro boxer with a stern face grunts when he frisks us for weapons.
“Gentlemen,” a voice greets us. “Please, come. Sit. Lunch is served.”
I turn, and there before me is the man I identify as Alexsei.
“Thank you for your generosity. I’m Matteo, and this is Gio.”
He shakes my hand, and our eyes meet. I like a man who doesn’t have what I have coined “crazy eyes.” Alexsei appears to be of sound mind and shakes Gio’s hand after he releases mine. I wait for him to lead us to the table.
