Chapter 25

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

MATTEO

" E ven a Don needs to sleep," my father told me once. "I wish I didn't have to. I wish I could just work and work and keep working. That's what I am, son—a workhorse for the Family. It's the way it has to be, but without sleep, a man grows dull. A man forgets what's important. A man won't be able to do what's needed when the time comes."

I sit up in bed, glancing at the clock. It's almost three a.m. I can't stop thinking about the conversation with Bella—the look on her face when I told her the truth wasn't what I expected. It wasn't hate. It wasn't complete acceptance, either. It was something in between as if she couldn't figure out how she was supposed to feel.

Grabbing my phone, I go to our text conversation. When she asked me—or almost asked me—if I'd ever killed a woman or a child, something snapped in me. The idea of her thinking that made me feel sick. The thought of it was— is —grotesque to me. I can't believe she'd even entertain it.

But why not? I'm a stranger to her. She's a stranger to me, even if it stopped feeling like that much too soon.

I have to know. Otherwise, I'll never be able to …

That's what she said, but then she trailed off, leaving my imagination to fill in the gaps. It's not like my imagination is always a happy, optimistic place.

What were you going to say? I text.

Maybe she's asleep. She won't get in until the morning, anyway. I know I won't be able to rest until I've at least tried. Soon, the text goes from delivered to read , making my heartbeat pick up and race. I imagine her sitting in the large bed, silk sheets wrapped around her perfect, thick legs, her lips pouting as she stares at my message.

Huh?

I smirk, shaking my head. So she's going to play it coy, then. She'll pretend she doesn't know what I'm talking about. Or maybe I'm putting more significance on that unfinished sentence than she ever did.

When you asked me about the dark parts of my life … I can't include explicit details here. You said you had to know, but you didn't finish it. What were you going to say?

She sends a laughing emoji, followed with, Is this your way of saying sorry for storming out?

My smirk widens. I shake my head slowly. No matter what happens between us, she can always bring out my lighter side. The side I didn't even know existed until the music of Bella came into my life—not just her violin playing. She's the music herself.

I shouldn't have left like that, but dammit. I can't stand the thought of you even thinking of me doing something like that. I never would. I couldn't. I'd die before I did that.

I had to ask , she replies. I had to know. Otherwise …

Are you teasing me again?

I'm not trying to. Maybe I don't want to make the first move.

The first move has already been made.

Kissing is easier than what I want to say.

Do you want me to guess?

I stand up, walking in my boxer briefs across the room. Sitting in the chair by the window, I look over the vast estate. The bedroom light to the guesthouse is on. I wonder if that's the one Bella or her friend is staying in.

Finally, she responds, Yes, guess.

I bite down as my mind works overtime. You have to know I'm not an evil man first of all. Second, I know you have feelings for me—the same feelings I have for you. Yet it's moving fast, and we're both used to being cold and distant. Hell, let's call it what it is: we're both scared. Being who I am only makes it even more complicated.

Are you a mind reader? she responds. That's it, exactly. I couldn't have ever said that better myself. I've never been in a relationship before. I'm not sure how this is supposed to work.

You've NEVER had a boyfriend?

Are those capital letters judgment or shock?

Pure shock, I tell her. I find that so hard to believe. You're talented, beautiful, funny, and dedicated. I could go on.

You're going to make me blush!

My grin widens even more. The last thing I expected after telling her the truth was any flirting. If that isn't what this is, I don't know what to call it. I've got a goofy grin on my face as I type out my response.

Are you sure I'm the man you want to make you blush?

All I know is that when the sun sets and nobody's watching us, we can let our true feelings out.

My body thrums with pure heat. Is that your bedroom light on?

As I watch, it flickers on and off. The one that just flashed you?

Don't get my mind on you flashing me, but yes.

Ha ha, she replies. With how crazy this is, it's kind of neat to forget it all, right?

She's right. That's the main thing with us, which causes everything else to fade. Maybe that's how all relationships start—the ability to let the rest of the world go. When I'm texting Bella, all I hear is her music; all I feel is her. Even tomorrow, with this war looming, I can't stress. I can't overthink or let rage grip me.

It's like magic, I tell her. How you make everything else seem meaningless and make the rest of the world disappear is sweeter than any music. After what we discussed earlier, I thought we'd never speak like this again.

Were you okay with that?

Hell no. The idea makes me SICK.

Is that why you're up so late? she asks. Or is it all the other stuff?

No, it's you. I can typically sleep when I need to. Refuel my mind and my body so I can fight another day. This is one hundred percent the work of soon-to-be-world-famous Bella Rossi.

You really are trying to flatter me, aren't you?

I can't help it, but it would be much better to do it in person. How about a midnight snack? I was too stressed to eat earlier.

Me too, which is pretty rare for me.

My body stirs. If you're trying to talk about your curvy, thick figure like it's a bad thing, you've come to the wrong man. Your body is the very definition of perfection.

Then yes, Matt, I'll take you up on that snack. We have to be quiet and careful.

Careful, yes, but quiet? No chance. I've got just the place for us.

"My dad used this room for private meetings," I say, pushing the door open to reveal a small dining room with classical paintings on the wall, a two-person table, and chairs glittering beneath a small chandelier. "It's completely soundproofed."

She walks in behind me. I'm sure she must've put on some perfume. She's changed from her house clothes into a loose-fitting dress, which means my men have collected their belongings from the apartment. The dress might be loose, but the way it grazes her curves has me stirring as I think about tearing it off.

"Very secretive," she says, shutting the door behind her.

Maybe I'm doing my whole read-to-much-into-it thing again, but I am relieved she's the one who closed the door. It's like she's choosing to lock herself in here with me—a Mafia beast, a killer. Yet, when she looks at me, there's no judgment—confusion, tension, and lust, but no hate.

"Where's the snack, then?" she says.

"Are you trying to set me up?" I move closer to her.

She tilts her head up at me, her hair wild and gorgeous as it flows around her shoulders, her cleavage almost turning me into a complete madman, an unhinged savage.

"Set you up?" she asks innocently.

I smirk, standing close to her, savoring her scent and everything else. I'm not sure if it feels this natural for other people, but I don't have to try or stress with Bella. Even now, when she sees the real me, it's so much easier than I ever imagined. Not that I imagined much before I met her.

"You asked where the snack was …"

"So I'm the snack, is that it?" she says teasingly.

I laugh. "Exactly …"

When I lean down, she places her hand on my chest, pressing down hard so I can feel her fingernails through my shirt. Her cheeks are red in the most tempting, gorgeous way. "I just want to say … tonight is its own thing."

"Okay …" I trail off.

"I mean, the other stuff. We're not thinking about it. We're not talking about it, but that doesn't mean?—"

I cut off her words with a kiss. Maybe it's selfish, but I want to pretend that all that nasty crap doesn't exist. I want to pretend she fully accepts me, even if she says she hasn't decided yet. When I hear her moaning, I feel her tongue eagerly finding mine, and my body aches as she drags her touch across me. I can let it all go.

With a groan, I slide my hand down her body, over her hips, and further until I come to the hem of her dress. I push it up and grab onto her bare leg. She gasps and pushes against me.

Stumbling back, I butt against the table. I quickly grab her plump ass and lift her, spinning and putting her on the table. She wraps her legs around me, pulling herself close like she wants to melt into me.

When she breaks the kiss off, I think she's about to say something. Her lips part slightly. Her breathing comes fast, as if her horny body is trying to draw attention to those thick, delicious tits. When she doesn't say anything, I groan and grab the front of her dress, savagely pulling it down.

"Fuck," I gasp, my manhood flooding with heat. "No bra?"

A dangerous sort of smile spreads across her face. "Just for you …"

I lean down toward her naked, perfect tits. Her nipples are thick and pebbled with lust like she's waiting for me to lavish them with attention. I sink my hands greedily into the thickness of her body, pushing her tits together, then bring my mouth to her nipple and suck greedily.

Letting one of her luscious tits go, I slide my hand up her thigh.

"Oh, fuck ," I almost roar. "Thank God for the soundproofing. No underwear either?"

She smooths her hands over my face and hair, drawing my gaze to hers. "Maybe I get off on driving you crazy."

"Well, it's working," I growl. "Working so. Damn. Well."

"Oh, oh …"

Her moans are even sweeter than her violin music as she lets her pleasure fly. I stroke her clit, then smooth down to her entrance, feeling her wetness, feeling how badly she wants this as she writhes in time with my touch.

Our lips find each other again, and then I almost lose it. Her hand strokes across the front of my pants, almost nervously. When she hears my deep, throaty groan, she strokes me even faster. I thought my dick was rock-solid already, but it somehow gets even harder as precome bursts hotly from my rod, making my underwear sticky.

I circle her entrance, then slowly slide my finger inside. She breaks the kiss off, her head falling back.

When she bites down, I remind her, "Nobody can hear us, Bella. Nobody knows we're here. This is our secret place. Just us. Just our music …"

"Oh, fuh- fuck ," she says, gasping. "Oh my fucking God ."

"Let it out," I groan, slipping my finger even deeper into her tightness. "You don't need to be shy. You don't need to be ashamed. Not with me. Not ever."

"Not … ever?" She gasps as I swirl my finger faster.

The movement makes her rub me even quicker, as if this is a performance and she's keeping time with me.

When she emphasizes the word ever , it's like she's jolted me into realizing precisely what I just said. But I can't think about any confusing thoughts right now. All I can focus on is the way her body trembles for me. Her moans sound like the notes of a violin, the music swelling as she shifts, her hips rocking faster and more urgently.

"I need you to come for me," I groan. "Get your pussy nice and wet. Get ready for my dick. Get ready to take me. Fuck . You drive me nuts."

She grabs my shoulders and pushes against me, digging her nails in. Her hips move in time with the thrusts of my finger as if she's already riding my cock. I can barely contain myself as more and more precome burns hotly from my body, almost like there's something primal and hungry roaring at me to fuck her. Fuck her now. Fuck her hard.

Finally, she releases all the pent-up pleasure, her thighs clamping around my hand as though my horny virtuoso is worried I'm going to steal some of the pleasure away.

Just as her moans fill the room, my cell phone rings. I'd ignore it if it weren't the ringtone specifically attached to Elio and my lieutenant's numbers.

She sits back, panting, eyes wide and hazy.

"I'm sorry," I say through gritted teeth. "I wish I didn't have to, but people could get hurt if I don't get this."

"It's okay," she whispers, adjusting her dress. "This is all a little sudden for my first time, anyway."

"Your … first time?" The phone is still blaring in the background.

She nods, then offers a no-big-deal shrug as if trying to downplay it. "Yeah. No boyfriends, remember?"

Is it crazy that this makes me want her more? I can't define why except that it means nobody else has touched her, which shouldn't matter, but it does. It burns through me hotly, that tempting thought, that fierce hunger —nobody else, just me .

Quickly, I answer my cell phone. If I wait too long, I won't be able to. "Yeah?" I say. It's Elio.

"We've got a problem," he replies. "Just got a whisper," which means he's spoken to Enzo. "The Gallos are making arrangements at the docks. It looks like they know we're coming or suspect something, anyway."

"How?" I growl.

"Could just be they're suspicious or that one of our men has been speaking too damn much. I don't know, bro, but that's not all."

"What else?"

"They've burned down the Rossa."

Our club? I squeeze the phone so hard, it's a miracle I don't shatter it into a million pieces. "Was anybody inside?"

"The manager spotted the fire early and evacuated the place. Security footage shows a lanky-looking bastard with a Molotov cocktail. Most likely, it's Orlando Gallo."

"He did this himself ?"

"He's getting desperate," Elio says, "or overly confident. One last thing."

"More gifts, eh?" I grunt, having to turn away as Bella pulls her dress up around her tits, hiding the perfection away. It's almost too damn tempting to dart forward and tear them down, revealing her lusciousness, her size, her beauty.

"He's put the word out on the street that the DeLucas are too afraid to appear in public. We want to hide in the shadows and spring cowardly traps. His words."

"So he wants us to host some public event … Does he realize how obvious he's being?"

"This is a world of egos. It always has been, but you're right. We'd be fools to do what he wants."

"Hmm, let me think about that."

"What?" Elio snaps. "What's there to think about?"

"We need to end this. Soon. Who knows what else will burn if we don't?"

Ending the call, I slump into a chair, running my hand through my hair. Bella sits on my lap and wraps her arms around my shoulders. For all her talk about not accepting the dark side of my life, being close and intimate with this beautiful, talented, curvy, perfect girl feels so damn natural.

"Can I help?" she murmurs.

I shake my head. "It's war, Bella. It's all that nasty shit you don't want to think about."

"Maybe I have to think about it. I'm part of this now, whether or not I like it. Did I hear you say you have to host a public event?"

I nod. "Yeah. Call their bluff. They think they've got what it takes to hit us, but they're wrong. We can spring a trap inside their trap. If it's going to work, they'll need to know that most of the DeLuca higher-ups will be there. They'll need bait."

Bella slowly points at herself. "Well … bait."

I grip her hips, sitting up so suddenly I almost accidentally throw her out of the seat. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I want to make a deal," she says. "Let me help you … and you pay my mom's tuition."

"I'll pay her tuition anyway," I say fiercely. "Consider it done. You don't have to put yourself in dang?—"

"No, not for free," she cuts in. "These people are interested in me, too. They know we have something."

What is something , exactly? A few texts? Some heat? Some steam? The fact is, it's more than either of us has ever had before, and that means a damn lot.

"Hmm."

"Let me do this. I can help you; I can help Mom. It's a win-win."

"I can't stand the idea of you getting hurt."

She places her hand on my cheek. "Maybe that's the incentive you need to end this, huh?"

"I meant what I said, Bella. Consider your mom's college tuition paid."

"And I meant what I said—no handouts."

Leaning forward, I stare deeply into her eyes. She might be young, but I see so much experience, strength, and fire in her eyes. "Is this really about the college tuition?"

"I haven't decided how I feel about the other stuff," she says, but her voice wavers.

"If we're going to do this," I tell her, "we'll need to be seen together in public. We need the Gallos to know I'm serious about you."

"Serious," she repeats. After a pause, she says, "For the performance, right?"

"No," I say passionately, leaning forward even further. "Not just for the performance. This is more than that and more than music."

"It is?" she whispers.

"Don't pretend you don't feel it, too. Don't pretend you didn't feel it the first time we texted each other."

"Matt," she whispers, just my name, but how she says it, there's so much passion in the simple word. It's like she's declaring so much else. Before, I might've thought I was reading too much into it. I might've warned myself to calm down, but not now.

This time, when we kiss, it feels different, like there's an added significance to it. If I wanted to go full sappy romantic—which, miraculously, Bella makes seem somehow appealing—I'd say I've been waiting my whole damn life for Bella Rossi.