Page 73 of Mafia King: Matteo
“I can’t imagine anything done under the Borrelli name that isn’t exquisite,” I reply.
He laughs at this. “You know Matteo better than you think,” he says.
We drive to Long Island, and Matteo texts me to see when I’ll be home.
I call him.
“How is my fiancée today?” he asks first.
“You still have your head, or you wouldn’t be talking to me, and I’d be a premature widow, so I assume it went okay?”
I hear him muffle his chuckle at this. That means it went well. I’m relieved, but I’m curious whether this is above board or if it involves clandestine operations in dark, lit rooms.
“Better than okay. And I have you to thank for it.”
“Okay, I’ll be there in…”
Vito shouts, “Thirty minutes.”
“Very well. Federico will serve dinner when you get here.”
I’m about to say he doesn’t need to wait for me, but he’s already hung up. I’m sure it’s better to discuss family matters face-to-face. So many things can happen with interpretations in a text, and who would know if we’re compromised?
CHAPTER 25
MATTEO
I’ve never been excited to see a woman arrive at my mansion. I’ve thought of Alena off and on all day and have had my fingers over the keys on my phone pad to text her half a dozen times. I’m pacing the tiled floors, anxiously waiting for her to enter.
“Relax, Matteo. Dinner is perfect,” Federico says as he sets the formal table. I walk behind him. I don’t know what to do with myself. Will Alena like the house? Will she feel comfortable?
“I don’t know what’s changed since Alena’s been in my life, but I hope the heart palpitations stop.”
Federico chuckles. “It’s love.”
“I don’t do love,” I growl. Any other person would cower under my retort. Only Federico and Gio can brush off my denials without retribution. They are the only men I share my thoughts with.
Even if I spoke to men outside my home, they would not dare comment. However, my home is the only place I can be myself and let my guard down.“Then why do you have a gift for the lovely Alena?” Federico murmurs as he breezes back to the kitchen.
Gifts. Hm. Before today, I’ve never paid attention to what a woman might want to be gifted by a lover. Alena has a way of bringing out my generosity.
As I follow Federico around the kitchen, the door blows open, and the cold air mingles with the sweet scent of her essence as she rides the wind. She smiles when she sees me in front of her.
“Let me help you,” I say, rushing to help her get out of her coat.
“Thank you,” she says, slipping her purse off her shoulder and letting me take her coat.
“Do you want a minute before dinner?”
“Oh, no. I’m starving,” she replies, and as if on command, her stomach grumbles. “I had chips for lunch.”
“That’s not right. I’m sure you can order food. Is Sophia a problem?” My eyes narrowed at the thought of her being an issue when I once thought it would be fun to pit them against each other.
“Oh, no. I don’t know if it’s a habit or if I’m just being lazy.” She shrugs. “I’m still getting into my groove.”
“Well, you have my card. Use it. I’m putting cash in your purse tonight. You can’t walk around without it, even if everyone uses cards today. I want you to eat.”
She studies my face, and I’m afraid I might have been too harsh.
