Page 20 of Mafia’s Fake Bride

He held her as they came back to reality, held her close to his slick body. They’d both started to sweat, and she smiled. It enhanced his scent, made his own pheromones stronger, made his cologne warmer, and she inhaled the combined smell that made Matteo so delicious to smell. She licked at his neck to gather that smell into a taste. She savored it as he pulled away and smiled down at her.

“Ready for a shower and some dinner?”

“I’m ready for… more.” Her eyes, once so sweet and innocent, were now full of dirty need and delicious desire.

“You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?” he spoke softly again as if he didn’t really mean to say anything at all.

“I’m not dog-ugly, I know that. But I’m nothing like you, Matteo. I’m not classy, or gorgeous, I’m just me.” She let her hair fall over her face and stood up to leave the room.

“No, you are those things, Marie, and so much more.” He caught her hand and pulled her back to look at him. “You are perfect, and my wife. I couldn’t… I don’t want anyone else but you to be that person to me. Do you understand?”

Her heart knocked around in her chest. This was as close as they’d ever come to talking about emotions, even after all this time. His eyes, always so guarded, were open now, full of a plea that she’d never seen there before. He needed reassurance. She’d have never thought that possible. With a gulp of shock and a deep breath, she smiled down at him and squeezed his hand. “I think so. And I won’t let you down, Matteo. Not if I can help it. I promise that.”

“I know you won’t, Marie. Thank you.”

He let her hand go and she left him to head to the bathroom. Something had just happened that had been one of those moments that she wouldn’t forget. He’d admitted that he needed her, that he cared about her. That was earth-shattering and the smile on her face that wouldn’t go away proved it.

12

A few days later they were in the back of another limo, on the way to a Christmas party one of Matteo’s associates was hosting. Marie was nothing short of stunning in a tasteful but sensual red silk dress, hidden underneath a long leather coat. She wore black heels that made him think all kinds of naughty thoughts, especially with her leg crossed over her knee like that. He was transfixed and didn’t notice when his phone began to buzz in the pocket of his suit jacket.

“What?” he asked when he finally felt the vibration and accepted the call.

“We need you down here at the warehouse, boss. We got a problem.” The voice on the other end of the line was accented with that thick Bronx sound that he’d noticed made Marie cringe. She preferred the southern drawl, and he had to admit, he did since he’d met her.

“Be there in ten.” If Petey was calling him, it was for something big. Petey didn’t call him otherwise. Matteo instructed the driver of the new address to head to and patted Marie’s hand when she glanced over at him in question.

“Just some business, baby. Don’t worry.” He didn’t give her details, she didn’t need to know, even if he knew exactly what was going on. She was so gentle, naïve about so much, and he wanted to keep her that way if he could. She was an Alfonsi, though, he knew that. It had been playing on his mind since they’d come to New York, back to the home grounds of her father.

The car soon pulled into a warehouse that was dark and empty of anything except some old forging molds that couldn’t be moved. It was a front anyway, a place to store products when they needed to. The lights of the car illuminated a trio of men, with another man laid across two wooden boxes off to the side. Matteo tried to hide the man’s face from Marie’s view as he stepped out of the car but he wasn’t sure if he’d managed it or not.

“What’s this?” he asked as he looked down at the man.

“Johnny, boss. That little pissant operation that’s started up over on Maple Avenue caught him out on a run,” Petey, a big man with black hair, black eyes, and a flat nose said to Matteo as he came up to stand in front of Petey.

“Let me see him.” Matteo walked over to the man, checked him over, and nodded. “Call Doctor Smith, get him down here to check him over.”

Matteo doubted the man would make it as far as a hospital, but maybe the doctor would have something to ease his pain until the end came. He was coughing up blood and his spleen was the size of a watermelon. He wasn’t going to make it, Matteo didn’t need a medical degree to know that. Something would have to be done about this little upstart gang over on Maple, and it would have to be done quickly. They obviously had no idea who they’d messed with.

“Why did this happen, Petey?” he asked softly, his gaze on the blood that still oozed from the man’s lips.

“Johnny’s car broke down, we think. We found it a few days ago, but Johnny was nowhere to be found. Maybe they thought he was cutting in on their turf, scoping them out maybe. I dunno, boss. They just beat him with lead pipes, then drug him over to our side of town like this. They had him for a few days so he might have told them who he was, what organization he works for, we don’t know. He probably did and that’s why they just dumped him like that.” Petey’s voice was angry, as angry as Matteo felt. They hadn’t even left a message. He assumed they thought this was message enough. Clueless fucks.

“Take a team out there, Petey, once the doctor’s done, and inform them of their new station in life.” Matteo squeezed his fingers in his palm, angry to lose a man to a gang that barely existed. “Actually, make sure that they never become a problem for us again.”

“Sure, boss, consider it done.” Petey nodded, a light of anger in his eyes. Johnny was new, but he was one of theirs.

“Call me if you need anything else.” Matteo went back to the dying man and saw that the doctor wasn’t necessary at all. The shallow breaths and the fading pulse would stop soon.

This was the reality of their lives, the truth hidden in Hollywood’s version of Mafia life. Sometimes people died for no good reason. Sometimes they didn’t go down in a blaze of glory, or in the arms of some don that treated them like their own child. Nope, sometimes, you died comfortless on two wooden boxes, drowning in your own blood. Not glamorous or romantic at all.

He glanced at the car and hoped Marie couldn’t see. He didn’t want her night to be ruined. He wanted her to have a chance to dance, to laugh, and to smile as the night wore on, not witness a man’s bloody death. “Safe travels, Johnny.”

He said the words quietly and then turned away to get back into the car. He tapped the driver’s seat ahead of him, and the car pulled away. As they pulled out of the warehouse the glass went up between the back and the driver’s portion of the car.

“That’s going to be taken care of, isn’t it? We’re not going to let that go unanswered are we?” Marie asked him from the other side of the car.

His head swung over to her, surprised. “Pardon?”