“She’s Stevan Fucchini’s fuckingdaughter,Matteo!” Her head shakes back at him like she’s sure he’s lost the plot. “But you knew that, didn't you? If you think this is going to reunite two families that have been at war for decades, you are very wrong…Did recent events not teach you anything?” She knocks back half of the wine in her glass and takes out a little trinket box from her purse. One that she opens up and dabs her finger into the white powder inside, before snorting up her nostril.
“Mother, is that really necessary? We’re at the lunch table for Christ’s sake!”
“I think it’sveryfucking necessary, you have just informed me that you have knocked up the daughter of your father’s biggest enemy. Excuse me for needing to take the edge off.” I feel like a spare part sitting here and listening to them both. But as much as I want to get up and run away, I fear my legs wouldn’t carry me.
“My original intentions were not for resolution, but things have changed.” Matteo’s words give me hope and make tears slowly creep into my eyes. That happens a lot, lately. I put it down to pregnancy hormones. I cried watching a mama bird feed her chick when I was reading on the balcony yesterday.
“What would your father say, if he was here?” Matteo’s mother shakes her head at him in disgust.
“I care as much about that as I do your opinion. I asked you here, today, so I could inform you of ourhappynews. You can either celebrate it with us or get the fuck out of my house.” The look he gives her is cold and I’m surprised when she holds his stare and picks up her wine glass.
“To the next Romano heir,” she says, sarcastically, before lifting her glass and finishing what's left in it.
MATTEO
“Today must have been tough for you.” I pull back the covers when Aria starts walking toward the bed. She’s wearing just her panties and seeing that tiny bump of hers sticking over the waistline of them has my cock steel, fucking, hard.
“It was awful.” She slides in beside me, snuggling into my chest and looking up at me through her lashes.
“Talking about varicose veins and piles over a Caesar salad wasnotmy idea of a fun afternoon. I swear she managed to cram every pregnancy horror story, she’s ever heard, into that hour,” she points out, but soon eases up when I slide my hand into the front of her panties and start rubbing my finger against her clit, she mewls like a satisfied, little kitten. I love the way she gets turned on so easily, and when I start to slowly tease her entrance, she grabs my wrist to hold it steady.
“I won’t let you distract me from the conversation we need to have.” She moves quickly, shifting her body so it’s straddling mine.
“Now, who's distracting who?” I look up at her and snigger, taking one of her perfect, round tits in my palm and squeezing. I know how sensitive they are, and that it will bring her a little pain, but it's the kind she needs, and when I feel her thighs gently clutch around my hips, it only confirms I’m right.
“Did you mean what you said at the table, about your intentions changing? Do you think you could do that for me?” She scrutinises me with her eyes like she’s trying to read all the thoughts in my head.
“Honestly?” I don’t know what to say to her, I don’t have the answers myself. “I don’t know. I have no idea where to go from here.” My fingertips trail down her skin and rest over my stomach. “All that matters is this, and keeping you both safe.”
Aria’s hand flattens over mine to keep it there. She’s really proud of the fact she’s starting to show, and I’ve caught her admiring her new figure in the mirror, more often than once, these past few days.
“I get that. But we will have to face reality, soon. If my dad saw this side of you–”
“No one sees this side of me, Aria, evenIdon’t know this fucking side of me. It scares me.” I hate admitting that to her, but something about this beautiful, young woman seems to drain the truth out of me.
“I can’t be weak, a lot of people rely on the decisions I make. I’m used to that, I bear the weight of it. But having you depend on those decisions feels like…” I can’t find the words to describe it, other than soul-crushing.
“You will make the right choices, for all of us.” She smiles back at me so sweetly, that I feel it crush even more.
I slide my hand up her body, moving through the valley between her tits before gently taking her throat. It’s been a while since I handled her roughly, I won’t take the risk, but I know how much she misses it. She’s always begging for me to fuck her harder when I’m inside her, and the spark of thrill I see in her eyes when I tense my fingers a little, tells me just how much.
“Just give me a little more time to think it over.” My voice comes out weak, almost like I’m begging her, and when I drag her body down onto mine and kiss her lips, she fidgets her hips to try and get some friction from the rock-hard cock I’ve got resting between her legs.
“You need me to take care of that?” I ask, hooking the finger from my free hand into the side of her panties, and clearing a path so my cock can brush against her sensitive flesh. She makes that noise again, the one that tells me we won’t have to speak about her father again, tonight.
* * *
After Aria falls asleep, I head straight to the room where I keep all my gym equipment and turn the speed on the treadmill right up. I used to take a jog in the forest that surrounds my home, every day. But, these days, I won’t be away from Aria unless it's absolutely necessary. I can’t get Fucchini out of my head. I could never predict how he would react if he found out, and I have no idea how I would respond to being face-to-face with the man who killed an innocent woman, and my child. My feet thud hard against the belt and I feel the sweat pour from my skin. It’s not till my lungs feel like they’ll collapse that I hit the cool-down mode and allow myself to catch my breath.
“It’s late.” Demitri’s voice comes from behind me, and when I glance back at him over my shoulder, I wonder how long he’s been there.
“Did my mother get home, okay?” I check, knowing it will have been a draining task for him to have to drive her all the way back to Malibu.
“She’s insufferable,” he tells me, dumping a brown case file on the weight bench beside me.
“What's that?” I step off the treadmill, grabbing the hand towel that’s resting over the bar and draping it over the back of my neck
“That's the file, I had hacked, from the computer of the private investigator Fucchini has hired to find his daughter. Your name is on a list of suspects that could have potentially kidnapped her,” he informs me.