Page 74 of Mafia King: Matteo
“I’ll work on it,” she suggests.
Federico is thinking, and it hits me that they haven’t been introduced.
“Oh,” I say, taking her elbow to turn her to our chef. “This is Federico.”
Alena extends her hand. Federico takes it into his own. “I will make you a lunch to die for from now on.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she protests, but I know Federico does what he says. Otherwise, he wouldn’t work for me.
“Nonsense. He loves to cook, and after you taste the meal he made tonight, you’ll never be so quick to refuse,” I say, putting her coat in the adjacent mud room.
“I hope you like pot roast. I know you just had seafood, but it’s cold out.”
“It smells incredible,” she says. “The aroma of whatever you made fills the house. I smelled the meat and carrots when I walked in.” Her smile at Federico makes me envious of the attention she’s giving him, and I’m jealous that he’s smitten with her.
Great, my chef and servant is now her ally.
“Thank you,” Federico replies before he turns to lift the covered serving tray off the counter and leads the way to the table decorated with dripless candles for ambiance.
“This is incredible. Thank you both so much. I’ve never come home to dinner prepared for me like it’s a special holiday, except for the engagement,” she adds.
So, her parents put on the show for me this week. I assume it’s only fitting since I’ll be the one to take care of their daughter, but in reality, they did it so her father could avoid being bathed in betrayal.
The meal is on the table. I pull the chair out for Alena. “Wine?” I ask as I grab the bottle of chilled red off the table.
“Thank you. Do you mind if I start?”
“Not at all.” I pour the wine as Federico disappears. If I know him, he’s probably making dessert for her.
She helps herself to the serving utensils, puts slices of beef on her plate, and scoops veggies onto it. She wasn’t joking. She is ravenous and begins to cut her meat. I sit adjacent to her.
She takes a bite of the tender beef and moans.
“This is ah-mazing,” she exclaims as if she’s describing an orgasm.
“I told you,” I say as I help myself to the food.
“I want to hear about Alexsei. How is he?”
“He’s fantastic. I’m not so sure your father will be in any shape to walk you down the aisle.”
“I don’t want him there at all,” she exclaims, and her eyes turn as dark as the clouds that blow in with a Northwestern snowstorm.
“Really?”
“Of course. I was pissed at you for keeping your identity from me because you should have told me sooner.”
“It’s true. I’m sorry about that. I went for the dramatics. I did like the secrecy, and the thought of the two of us fucking all over the city still excites me,” I confess. I’m growing hard as the words tumble from my mouth.
“However, my father’s situation is alarming,” she adds. “My father warned me not to trust you.”
“You are right about that. He went so far as to tell Alexsei that he didn’t trust me!”
“No,” she exclaims, and her hand flies to her mouth.
“Yes, and it took me by surprise. I don’t like surprises.”
“We can agree that he’s on our shit lists. How did Alexsei take it?” She confirms my belief that she has no clue about her father’s dealings.
