Chapter Four

Aurelia

I wake up in bed alone, but I'm not foolish enough to believe that Mattia has gone far. I feel him in the house. His presence is overpowering. For a long moment, I simply lay in the bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to figure out how in the hell I ended up here. Trying to figure out a way out of this mess.

Part of me desperately wants to trust the complicated, dangerous man I tied myself to last night, but the bigger part is terrified of what might happen if I do. I believe him when he says he won't hurt me, but can he say the same about my brothers?

Our father certainly wanted nothing to do with me. It's hard to believe the brothers I've never met will feel any sense of loyalty to me if they ever find out what Brio wants from me. They'll never trust me. Why would they? Their loyalty is to one another and the oaths they swore. I'm not stupid. I know what it means to be mafia. Their oath will always come before their half-sister. It did to our father, didn't it?

With a sigh, I drag myself out of bed, stumbling toward the bathroom. Halfway there, I stop and look around. From the outside, Mattia's house is cold and uninviting. Inside, it's a different story. It's…nice. Beautiful, even. What a home should look like.

I barely noticed last night, but his bedroom is filled with dark, heavy wooden furniture. The bed is large and imposing, with a towering headboard. Plush rugs cover the floor, adding warmth to the massive space. Everything exudes an air of power and dominance, fitting for a dangerous man like Mattia. It should look cold, but there's life and comfort in the room that I didn't expect. A lot like the man himself.

Even after spending two months trapped in Brio's house, I'm still not accustomed to this kind of wealth.

It's certainly not the way I grew up. My mom was careful with the money Vincent gave her to disappear, stretching it as far as it would go. We never did without, but we never had more than we needed, either.

This is a whole new world.

I continue into the bathroom, only to stop and gape again. It's bigger than the freaking bedroom where I grew up. The man has a bathtub that could reasonably double as a hot tub. A humming from the switch beside my head captures my attention. One is a simple light switch, but my brows furrow when I see the other switch with the temperature settings on it.

"What is this?"

"It's the control for the floors, cara mia . They're heated."

"Jesus!" I yelp, jumping a foot into the air at the sound of Mattia's voice.

His low, sinful chuckle rolls over me.

I lift my head to glare at him, only to swallow hard when I catch sight of him in nothing but a towel hanging low on his hips, his wet hair plastered to his head. Fully dressed, the man is freaking gorgeous. But like this? There are no words.

Water droplets course down his chest, over the ridges of his abs, only to disappear beneath the towel around his waist. Tattoos of roses and thorns wind around his biceps in shades of blue, red, and black before snaking up to the strong line of his shoulders. Scars—some old, some new—litter his skin, screaming of violence and bloodshed. Every inch of him is hard and powerful. Dangerously so.

"Naked," I manage to choke out. "You're naked."

"Mmhmm." He cocks a brow, a slow smirk overtaking his face. "Isn't that how you shower, topolina ?"

"I thought…" I don't know what I thought. I know I didn't expect to find him dripping wet in the bathroom, though. Now I'm dripping wet in the bathroom.

"That I left you here alone?"

"No." I roll my eyes. "I couldn't get that lucky, Mattia."

"Ah, I see," he says, still smirking at me.

"See what?"

"I make you come all over my face, and then you spend the night cuddling in my arms, and we're back to trading barbs this morning."

"I did not…" One dark brow rises as if daring me to finish that lie. I quickly swallow it back and take a deep breath. "We're not trading barbs," I say instead. "I'm just speaking facts. Hell will freeze over before you leave me to my own devices."

He chuckles again, stalking across the bathroom toward me. " Quando il gatto non c'e, il topo balla ," he murmurs, tipping his head down to look at me with those steely gray eyes.

"What?"

"I said good morning, little mouse." Humor dances in his eyes, convincing me that isn't what he said at all.

I make a mental note to learn Italian.

"Liar."

"Are you spoiling for another fight this morning, cara mia ?"

"No."

"Then say good morning."

"Good morning, Mattia." I bat my lashes at him. "I hope you had a lovely shower in your ridiculously oversized bathroom and the water was exactly the right temperature."

Maybe I'm my own worst enemy because the last thing I should be doing is pushing this man's buttons when he's already demonstrated exactly how unfair he's willing to play when I fight him. But I can't help it. He's so freaking unflappable. It drives me crazy.

Every time he's near me, my body feels like a livewire. Meanwhile, he looks at me all calm, cool, and collected. It makes me want to mess up his neatly ordered world.

I want to make this man snap.

It's a psychotic desire, honestly. I know precisely how hot he can run. I know what he's capable of doing. I was the one coming on his tongue last night. I know who he is. But he looks at me like he finds me amusing, and I hate it. I want heat. I want fire. I want fury .

I want him all over me because he can't stop himself, and I'm willing to fight dirty to make it happen. I'm not sure what that says about me, and I don't think I want to find out.

I'm taunting a sleeping giant. But I can't seem to stop myself from doing it, either. When he's as rattled and out of control as I am, I'll be satisfied. But not until.

My comment doesn't piss him off. He simply throws his head back and laughs before bending to press a kiss to my temple. "Shower before you get yourself into trouble, cara mia ," he murmurs against my skin. "I'll find you something to wear until we're able to see about getting you a wardrobe."

"A wardrobe?"

His heated gaze skims down my body. "Unless you'd prefer to walk around in your nightgown or nothing. Then, by all means…"

I narrow my eyes on him, which only makes him laugh again.

"Shower, topolina ." He strides from the bathroom. Except, he drops the towel on the way out, so I watch his firm ass waltz out the door, my mind reeling.

Naturally, he glances over his shoulder on the threshold and catches me staring. I harumph like a crazy person and spin on my heel, pretending I wasn't staring at his ass. Judging by the smirk on his face, he doesn't believe me.

If I survive this, I may kill Brio Cascella myself.

An hour later, I find Mattia in the kitchen—fully dressed, thank God. I stumble to a stop in the doorway when I realize that he cooked for me.

He turns from the marble island, his gray eyes crinkling with amusement when they meet mine. " Topolina ." His voice is a heated caress.

He's dressed in a black suit that fits him like a glove. He looks every bit the lethal consigliere I know him to be.

God, the man is just so…so everything.

"You cooked for me?" I find myself asking, stunned.

His lips lift into a smirk as he glances toward the dishes spread out on the counter. There's an omelet, bacon, fresh fruit, yogurt. It's a feast.

"It may surprise you, but I am capable of more than killing people."

"I know that," I whisper, swallowing hard as I step inside the kitchen. The air smells like breakfast and him. "I'm just…surprised. It's been a long time since anyone cooked for me."

He pulls out a stool at the island for me, and I slide onto it, my heart pounding as he brushes a strand of hair from my face. His touch ignites something wild and desperate within me—an urge to erase every inch of space between us.

I resist the urge and remind myself to play it cool even though I feel anything but cool when he's so close. I feel more like a wildfire raging out of control.

"Thank you," I whisper. "It smells delicious."

"I'm glad you think so." He places a plate in front of me before circling around the island to sit across from me.

We eat in silence for several long moments. Everything tastes incredible. Either he's an amazing cook, or I'm starving. Or both.

"It's incredible, Mattia."

A small smile tugs at his lips. "You found the clothes I set out for you."

I glance down at myself, blushing. I had to tie up the T-shirt to make it fit and roll up the sweats so I wouldn't trip on them, but they work. They cover the important bits, at least. When you grow up poor, fashion isn't high on the agenda. Sweats and a T-shirt are my comfort zone.

I look like a little kid compared to this man.

"After breakfast, we'll go shopping."

"You don't have to take me shopping," I protest.

"Afraid to be seen in public with me?" he teases.

I roll my eyes, not amused. I'm not afraid to be seen with him. I feel guilty. I shouldn't be here in the first place. Now, he's cooking for me, and offering to take me shopping. He freaking married me to keep me safe—and I actually believe that's why he did it. He's being nice when he doesn't have to be.

I don't understand him at all.

"How did you know about me, but my brothers don't?" I ask, desperate to understand something about this strange new world.

He hesitates with his fork hovering near his mouth. "You don't want to know the answer to that question, Aurelia."

"I wouldn't have asked it if I didn't want to know."

He eats in silence for so long that I think he's not going to tell me. He's spoken, and I'm just supposed to accept it. How infuriating.

I fidget in my seat, growing more frustrated by the moment.

"One of Vincent's former captains came to me to tell me about you," Mattia says, his steely eyes flickering across my face. "He thought Rafe would pay him for what he knew."

"D-Did you pay him?"

He eyes me levelly. "I dumped his body in the fucking river."

"Oh," I whisper, my stomach turning a flip. I set my fork down, my appetite vanishing.

"He deserved what he got, Aurelia. He's known about you since before you were born, and he never said a word until he thought he could use it for a payday." Repressed fury dances in Mattia's expression, turning him into the same ice-cold, severe man who carried me out of Brio's last night. "Loyalty isn't something that changes with the seasons. Vincent's men never understood that. Rafe's do. When you betray this family, you pay for it."

My stomach turns again, my insides twisting into knots. Is that the fate that awaits me, then? A violent death and an eternity at the bottom of the river?

I shiver at the thought, fighting the urge to wrap my arms around myself.

"D-Do my brothers know about me yet?"

"Not yet."

"Because you don't trust me," I whisper, staring at my plate.

"Because you and I both know Brio sent you here for a reason, cara mia ," Mattia says gently. "Until you talk to me, I can't help you. And I can't let you get close to them when I don't know what he's planning to do. It's not safe for you, or for them."

"You should have just left me there, Mattia." I sigh tiredly. "I've been telling you that, but you aren't listening."

"Perhaps you aren't the only stubborn one here, cara ."

I flick my gaze up to scowl at him.

He simply smiles at me and resumes eating.

I watch him for a long moment, more conflicted about him than ever. His loyalty to my brothers is clearly ironclad, and yet he tied himself to me anyway. Even knowing that Brio sent me here with a plan, he made that choice. He says I can trust him, and I desperately want to believe him, but I don't know how I'm supposed to do that when I don't understand him.

I've never met anyone like him. There are puzzles, and then there's Mattia Agostino. He's more complicated than the Seven Bridges of K?nigsberg.

"How did you end up with my brothers?" I ask. "How did you end up in the mafia? In this life? Tell me something real, Mattia. Anything."

"Anything, huh?" His eyes narrow thoughtfully, as if he's considering just how far he's willing to go, just how real he can allow himself to be with me.

"Please," I plead quietly.

After a long pause, he sets down his fork and wipes his mouth with a napkin. He leans back in his chair, studying me with that unflinching gaze of his. His gray eyes are like storm clouds, dark and unreadable. He's looking for something, though. Some hint as to why I need this so badly, perhaps.

I don't have an explanation for him. Not one I'm willing to give him right now. Instead, I hold my breath, waiting.

"All right," he finally concedes with a sigh. "I'll tell you something real, topolina . When I was seven, my parents were murdered."

The word hangs in the air between us— murdered— echoing over and over . But it doesn't truly sink in until I see the haunted look in his eyes. For the first time, there's a hint of vulnerability seeping through those impregnable walls of his.

"My father led our family," he continues. "We weren't a powerful family, but we were affiliated. He intentionally crossed another family for your father. They retaliated." His voice is steady, but I see the ghosts of his memories in his eyes. "My mother was six months pregnant with my little brother at the time."

"Mattia," I whisper, horrified.

"I was the only one who survived."

"You were there ?"

He shakes his head. "I was spending the night with Rafe when it happened." He clears his throat. "Rafe's parents—your father—ensured that I was taken care of. I spent most of my childhood at the Valentino estate afterward. Your father trained me. He thought I'd be advising Nico when he died, but obviously, that changed when Nico left the family. Instead of Nico, I pledged my loyalty to Rafe."

My heart contracts painfully at his admission. He lost so much so young because of my father. And my father scooped him up and pulled him into this life before he ever had a chance to know anything different. He was forged by loss and molded by the mafia before he was even finished growing.

That's heartbreaking.

"I didn't choose this life, Aurelia," he finishes quietly, "It chose me. But having lived it, having seen the darkest parts of it—I wouldn't trade it. This is who I am."

"I'm sorry," I whisper, my heart aching for him.

He reaches across the table, his fingertips barely brushing mine, but it's enough. It's too much. That simple touch sends a spark through my veins, searing every nerve ending in my body.

I pull back, trying to rein in the wild beating of my heart. Trying desperately not to soften further toward him. But he makes it so damn hard when everything in me screams to just let go and fall into him.

He meets my gaze again, something unfathomable in his eyes. "I'd go through it again if the path brought me to you, little mouse."

For a moment, everything else ceases to exist. There's only Mattia—the man forged by pain and loyalty. The one I'm beginning to think would walk through fire if it led to me.

I'm the last thing he needs in his life, and yet…he chose me anyway.

God, please. Don't let me destroy him. Please.

"Mattia, I…"

"Finish your breakfast, Aurelia. We have things to do today."

I stare at him for a long moment, wanting to say…something. But my mind is a jumble. All I know for sure is that if I destroy him, it's going to destroy me. Not because I need his protection or because I think he can keep me safe, but because for the first time in a long time, I feel alive.

He makes me feel alive.

This wasn't supposed to happen. And yet, it is. Terrifyingly fast.