Page 6 of Mafia’s Fake Bride

“It’s mesmerizing, isn’t it?” he asked her as she stared down into the depths of the pool.

“It is, yes. I know it’s all artificial, it’s a pool with electric lights, but it’s still so beautiful to watch.” She didn’t want to admit that his was the only fancy in-ground pool she’d ever seen at night.

“It’s not as beautiful as you, Marie.” He pulled her to him then and she melted into his side with relief. That relief mingled with desire the minute their lips touched, and she moaned against his mouth.

“That’s enough of that,” he whispered as he pulled away suddenly, his hands on her shoulders to gently push her away. “Want to watch a movie?”

“I’d rather you took me upstairs, Matteo.” She’d decided to go with blunt and to the point. She wanted him, he wanted her, they were both adults, what could possibly be the problem. They’d only had that one night, so far, but she wanted a lifetime of nights like that, of those kinds of moments. She pleaded with him with her eyes, put off the talking, let’s do the going to bed.

“I need to talk to you first, baby. Let’s get in, away from the mosquitos.”

She didn’t think her heart could sink any lower than it had already, but when he took her hand to help guide her back into the house, she found out it could. He was serious. She’d thought he was joking. Who wanted to talk when you could have sex? And talk? Dirty talk was nice, she’d learned, and the way he did it?

Even that memory couldn’t put a smile on her face as she followed him into the house. He took her into the living room, and she sat down on the couch while he filled two glasses. One with scotch and the other with the ginger ale she’d asked for. He brought the glasses over, set them down on the table in front of them, and then turned to her.

“I need to tell you some things, things I probably should have told you already.” He tried to take her hands but her fingers were too numb to close around his.

“You’re married, aren’t you?” She knew this was all too good to be true. Damnit!

“What? No, we’ve talked about that already. I’m not married, darling.” He tugged at her fingertips, but she could only stare at him, waiting for the hammer of doom that he was about to drop on her.

“It’s nothing like that, it’s more about the past.” He pursed his lips suddenly, and she could see that he was trying to figure out how to proceed.

“What do you mean the past? You mentioned something about my mom at her funeral. What did you mean?” Dots started to connect in her brain, dots from her hometown here in Louisiana to a place far away, in New York. “You’re not my cousin, are you?”

She pulled her hands away and brushed at her arms as her skin began to crawl.

“Fuck no!” he said harshly but cringed. “Sorry, no we’re not related. Not really.”

“Not really?” Marie’s left eyebrow arched elegantly over her eye as she narrowed her eyes at him. “Not really? I need more information than that, Matteo.”

She didn’t berate him any more than that and didn’t demand anything more, mainly because she was afraid of the truth. She didn’t want to know what he had to say, what he was about to reveal to her. She didn’t want to hear it. She got up from the couch, ready to leave but he followed after her, turned her to him, and back her up into the wall.

“Marie, please? Hear me out? This is going to be huge.” He paused, swallowed, took a deep breath, and tried to erase the look of shame off of his face, but failed. “My aunt is your father’s widow.”

“Who?” She tried to pull away from him, but he was pressed into her and she couldn’t move, her body refused to even try when he was that close. The smell of his cologne, his natural scent filled her nose, and her head began to spin.

“Come back to the couch?” He pulled away, and she had to wonder if it was because he was as helpless as she was when he was that close to her. She’d noticed the way his nostrils flared and his head tilted closer to her the longer he was pressed into her.

“Fine.” She didn’t want to, it was the very last fucking thing she wanted to do, but if he was determined to tear her world apart, she might as well let him get it over with. Because she knew, she just knew, that further explanation would only make what he’d already said even worse. He didn’t have to say another word, and she already knew that.

“It’s a little confusing, but it’s like this. My parents let my aunt adopt me when I was seven. She’d lost her husband, your father, to a car accident, and she needed someone to devote her attention to. She chose me, and they agreed. My parents aren’t poor, but she had money beyond even their kind of dreams.” He paused, swiped a hand over his face, took a sip of his drink, then continued. “So, no, we’re not related. It just so happens that your father was married to my aunt when he died. Your mother isn’t my aunt, she’s just, well, the woman my aunt’s husband had an affair with.”

She was back to only being able to stare at him. This was his secret? That he was here for… what exactly? “What does she want? Why did she send you here?”

Instinct alone told her that it had to be her father’s wife, his aunt, that had sent him down here.

“Well,” he paused to wince before he spoke with sad eyes. “How are your finances, Marie?”

“Pardon? You know what they’re like. Non-existent, especially now, without my mother’s money coming in, or the check I got for taking care of her. What’s that got to do with anything? Matteo? Please, just get to the point.”

He looked pained as if he didn’t want to carry on but something was forcing him to. “Your mother owed Nick $100,000 at the time of his death. She still owes it to his estate. With interest, that’s about half a million now.”

Cold waves crashed over Marie as she looked at him and knew the hammer had well and truly fallen. “Your aunt wants it back, I suppose?”

The words came out cold and calm as if she didn’t care either way.

“She does. And sent me to collect it. But I didn’t know your mother was ill then, or that you’d be so very wonderful, Marie, you have to believe me.”