Taken by the Mafia Boss

by Chloe Fischer

  “That’s why I thought…ah, never mind. It’s stupid,” Cara rushed on.

  Again, she turned away but Matteo grabbed her, drawing her quickly back into his arms. He was as surprised by the act of tenderness as she seemed to be but he couldn’t release her, not when he wanted to know what she was feeling.

  What is wrong with you?! You’re making this harder than it should be.

  “You were so young when she died,” Matteo recalled, staring down into Cara’s grimacing face. “You remember she liked these movies?”

  Cara shrugged, seeming uncomfortable by his personal question, but she moved closer to him, laying her head against his broad chest.

  “I was four when she died,” she agreed. “But it’s one of the only memories I have of her. I mean, I barely knew her, you know? But I can still hear John Wayne’s voice in the background and Papa howling at Mama to turn it off. She didn’t care, though. She was never intimidated by my papa, no matter how much he screamed and trashed the house. I think the movies brought her some kind of weird peace. Maybe she was waiting for her cowboy to ride up one day and sweep her away. I don’t know. Or maybe she just liked the way they pissed off Papa.”

  Matteo’s grip around her tightened and he didn’t speak, letting Cara envelop herself in the memory of her mother. There was a hidden meaning in her words, a deep anger toward her father and Matteo felt a spark of admiration for Cara and her passive/aggressive mother.

  I wasn’t much older when I thought my mama was going to die, he recalled. I remember what that terror feels like, thinking your mother is gone.

  “Al diavlo!” She pulled back slightly and shook her head once more, the tears disappearing from her eyes. “Come on, let’s get out of here before we get fleas.”

  “No.”

  “No che?”

  “Let’s go inside for a drink at least,” Matteo replied and Cara sighed.

  “Now you’re taking pity on me,” she complained. “I didn’t tell you that for your sympathy.”

  “I don’t have any sympathy for a woman who can orgasm four times to my one,” Matteo replied, grabbing her hand and starting toward the entrance. Cara whooped with laughter.

  “And whose fault is that?” she asked, turning adoring eyes upon him. A combination of guilt and pleasure seized Matteo. He knew he had her right where he wanted her, watching him with love in her eyes, her heart exposed to him.

  She won’t see it coming, he thought grimly, conjuring the image of Vito’s lifeless body in his mind. He was having a hard time letting go of Cara’s face, as he tried to gather the bits of hate and rage that seemed to get weaker every time he was with her.

  The inside of the bar was worse than the exterior but Matteo found he wasn’t studying the décor. His eyes were fixed on Cara as she stared around the establishment in wonder. It was surprisingly similar to everything he’d seen in old Westerns, including the rambunctious rednecks playing pool in the corners and the old timers drowning their sorrows in their beers.

  Cara looked around the dive with glee, her eyes glowing with pleasure. How can she possibly be enthralled by this? he mused, tickled by the idea that she loved every scent and sight of the stale, filthy joint.

  “Can we sit at the bar?” she asked, her eyes wide. Matteo felt every set of eyes was on them as they moved toward the chipped wooden bar and sat.

  The bartender grinned toothlessly at them.

  “We don’t get much class in here,” he whispered loudly and the other patrons grunted in response. “You’ll have to forgive the stares, Red and Slick.”

  Matteo snorted, wondering if he was paid to speak like that. But if possible, Cara seemed even more awed.

  It’s the nicknames, he realized. She feels like we’re in a movie.

  “What’ll it be?”

  “Can we have whiskey?” Cara mumbled in Italian and Matteo laughed in spite of himself.

  “We can have whatever you want,” he told her and signalled for two shots of whiskey.

  “How do you keep getting away from your brother?” Matteo asked when the barkeep wandered away to get their shots. “I thought he had you on a tight leash.”

  Cara eyed him slyly.

  “He likes Ariano,” she replied and Matteo instantly felt his back go up defensively.

  “He thinks you’re with Arian?” he demanded, his voice sharper than he had intended, but the bout of jealousy jabbing through him was unavoidable. Cara giggled.

  “Of course not!” she chided him. “He thinks I’m with Celine. She’s been covering for me a lot lately. Haven’t you noticed I’ve been riding around in her car?”

  Matteo’s shoulders did not settle and he stared at her for a long moment. He really had not given it much thought, his vendetta fueling him more than his common sense. He had been so consumed with exacting his revenge, he’d failed to notice major details.

  She’s getting inside me, he thought, mustering a familiar bitterness inside him. He knew that he was getting too involved with Cara, that she was distracting him more than he wanted to admit.

  I need to put a stop to this before it gets any worse. I can’t wait any longer.

  He took a deep breath and willed himself not to falter on what he was about to do. He couldn’t think of Cara’s legs clenched about his waist, or the scent of her lilac shampoo in his nostrils, or the delicious sounds she made as she came in his arms. He couldn’t remember her tinkling laughter that lit up her whole face, or the way she always brushed his wayward hair off his brow when they were in bed together. She was still the enemy, no matter how attracted he was to her. No matter that she had shown him sides of herself that he never thought existed. Good ones. Affectionate and caring ones.

  Fuck! They’re probably all lies anyways. A fake front she puts up to make herself seem nice. He knew better, though, right? He had to pull it together and expose her for the bitch he knew she was.

  “Celine knows about us?”

  Cara’s smile faded slightly.

  “Is that a problem?”

  The bartender returned with their shots and placed them before the couple at the bar.

  “Cheers!” he called before turning to leave them alone but Matteo barely noticed him leaving, his mind on what she had just told him.

  This is your out. Take it and don’t look back. What else are you waiting for?

  “What did you tell her about me?” Matteo asked casually, reaching for his drink. He didn’t bother to toast Cara, a fact which didn’t escape her.

  Cara’s smiled vanished completely.

  “What difference does it make, Matt? She isn’t going to tell Salvatore about us.”

  “What did you tell her?” he asked again, his voice growing coarse. “What did you say about us?”

  He spat out the final word with contempt and Cara’s face dropped in worry.

  “Are you in love with Celine or something?” she demanded. “Why are you so angry?”

  Anger raced through his blood and he reached for his glass, finishing it in one shot.

  “I’m angry, Carolina, because this was supposed to be our secret. You ruined it, just like you ruin everything.”

  Shock colored her face and even Matt was pained by his words. He needed her to feel the brunt of his anger, even if she didn’t understand it.

  “It is our secret!” she protested, her face perplexed and panicked. “Why are you acting like this?”

  Matteo slammed his fist down on the counter and drew his face close to hers.

  “Because I’ve always known you were evil,” he snarled. “Everything that comes out of your mouth is poison. You think because I fuck you that I’ve forgotten who you are? You are sadly mistaken.”

  Confusion and anger filled her face at his obscene overreaction to what she’d told him.

  “Matteo, what are you—”

  “Just stop!” he snapped. “I’m done with you.”

  He reached in his pocket and threw a few bills on the worn countertop before turning bac
k towards her stricken face.

  “I was never in it for you, babe. You were just a means to an end.” The words burned like lave in his throat, but he forced himself to continue. He needed to do this. He couldn’t back out now. It wouldn’t be worth all the time he had put in if he didn’t do it right. He flicked the tip of her nose almost playfully, looking at her with pity and contempt. “Oh yeah, and you were a decent fuck too.”

  Then he turned and stalked toward the door. His legs felt like they were weighed down with cement but somehow, he managed to make his way outside. As he reached the bright sunshine, he finally allowed his breath to escape in short gasps. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him to turn around and tell her that it was a bad joke, that he wouldn’t leave her. The image of her face, the shock and hurt would surely haunt him for all time.

  “Matteo!”

  He ignored her, sliding into the driver’s seat and pulling away as she ran after him into the parking lot, her expression twisted in anguish and alarm.

  There, puttana. It doesn’t feel so good to be humiliated in front of everyone, does it?

  He raced away from the roadhouse, trying to ignore the burning in his chest and the wild flipping in his stomach as he did.

  She didn’t deserve that, a voice yelled at him. What’s wrong with you? How could you say such terrible things to her?

  He pushed it aside and tried to relish in the completion of his plan with Cara. It had been the point all along, after all. Get her to adore him and then casting her aside.

  Too bad Salvatore didn’t catch us together, he thought grimly, his knuckles whitening against the steering wheel. But that’s fine. She got a taste of her own bitter medicine. Hopefully she’ll go crying to her brother. That would work too.

  His foot touched the gas harder and he geared up, flying across the back roads toward the city as if trying to escape the image of Cara’s devastated face.

  He knew that he wasn’t truly leaving her behind, but rather the anguish she had caused him as a child.

  I had to do it, he told himself firmly. As soon as I realized I was developing feelings for her – my nemesis, and the sister of my enemy.

  No, he told himself firmly, the countryside whipping by his window. No, I don’t care what happens to Carolina. She can go to hell.

  But as he raced toward his house in Alameda, the feeling of nausea did not settle in his stomach. If Matteo didn’t know himself better, he would believe that he was falling in love with her.

  Chapter Nine

  Salvatore slammed the bedroom door open and Cara jumped at the unexpected arrival. The doorknob cracked into the wall, undoubtedly denting it.

  Before she could open her mouth to protest, Salvatore unleashed a tirade of angry words.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” her brother growled furiously. “You mope around the house all day long like some grieving widow. Get outside. Take a damned shower!”

  He strode inside the bedroom and flung open the drapes, allowing the sunlight to stream through in a blinding glare.

  “Close those!” she yelled, yanking a pillow over her head. “I have a headache.”

  “Then take a fucking Vicodin and get on with your day, Carolina. You’ve been laying in here for two weeks. You won’t even see Celine. What’s wrong with you? She’s going to think you’re purposely avoiding her if you keep this up and then you’ll have no friends at all. Or maybe that’s what you want—to scare off everyone.”

  “I’m sick,” she called weakly. “Go away.”

  Salvatore stood over her bed and glowered, his eyes telling her that he didn’t believe a word she said.

  Even though it happened to be a fact.

  Despite the fact that Matteo had left her feeling foolish and angry, she had been sick for days. At first, she’d been certain it was the aftermath of being tossed aside like she was nothing, but as the days dragged on and the vomiting began, Cara knew she was in big trouble.

  Trouble I can’t possibly bring to Salvatore. He’ll flip his fucking lid. God, Papa is going to kill me! What are they going to do when they find out?

  “You do look like shit but that’s because you haven’t seen the sun in two weeks. Get up. I’m sick of making excuses for you. And you’re unnerving the maid. She keeps on me about you. I really don’t have time to hire new servants. And imagine how it will look to Giovanni if you scare off the help?”

  Cara was surprised to learn that Ginny gave a rat’s ass about her well-being. She only saw the girl when she popped in to clean up or leave food. Ginny had barely spoken two words to her and Cara suddenly worried that the girl might have figured out what was wrong. Fear blossomed in her chest.

  She wouldn’t say anything to him, would she?

  Cara had no way of knowing. It wasn’t like her and Ginny were friends from way back. They hadn’t exactly started things on the right foot and technically, Salvatore was the “man” of the house in Giovanni’s absence.

  Shit, maybe Salvatore is right—I have to get up and face the world before someone puts two and two together.

  By her calculations, she was probably only a month along but she wouldn’t know for certain if she didn’t go to a doctor. She hadn’t even done a test to confirm her suspicions but Cara wasn’t stupid. She was Italian—knowing she was pregnant was in her blood.

  “Carolina, I am not going to tell you again.” Her brother’s voice left no room for argument. “If you don’t get up, I’ll call a doctor here to your bedside and you can explain why you’re laying around like a fat housewife.”

  “Christ, you’re an ass!” Cara protested, bolting upright. But the blood drained from her face as she wondered how much time she might have left before her secret became obvious.

  “You’re going to be fat if you don’t move your ass,” Salvatore jeered. “If you’re not in the shower in ten minutes—”

  “Okay!” Cara barked. “Get out so I can shower.”

  “There,” her brother smirked. “I knew all you needed was a little motivation.”

  He spun to leave as Cara threw a paperback toward the doorway but she missed his head by several feet. Only the sound of his mocking laughter remained.

  Slowly, she ambled out of bed, a wave of dizziness overwhelming her and for a terrifying second, Cara thought she might vomit on the floor.

  She steeled herself and sauntered toward the vanity, gaping in shock at her reflection. Staring back at her was a set of dull green eyes, encircled by dark rings on a too-pale face. Her mouth was pinched into an expression of discontent and her hair hung dull and lifeless around her face.

  I look worse than I feel, she thought, trying to bolster her spirits. A shower will do me a world of good.

  “Miss Vinucci, do you need help with something?”

  Ginny had appeared at the threshold and Cara noted the relief in her face. The redhead started to refuse her help but she realized just how much her body had atrophied laying about for two weeks and she turned, nodding.

  “Will you run me a bath?”

  Ginny seemed stunned that Cara had asked her for anything. After all, she had dismissed the girl for weeks.

  “Yes, of course,” Ginny said, spinning toward the bathroom. “Are you a scalder or luke-warm kinda girl?”

  Cara had no idea what the question meant, the translation in her head meaning nothing in Italian. Her blank look spoke volumes to Ginny who quickly rephrased the query.

  “How hot do you like the water?”

  Cara thought about how long it had been since she had bathed at all.

  “Hot,” she sighed. She was going to need all the extra effort she could get to become clean.

  She began to disrobe, uncaring of the maid in the ensuite.

  She studied her naked form in the mirror, biting on her lower lip. From what she could see, her body had not changed much. Certainly, her breasts seemed larger but she was already so naturally busty, it would be impossible for a casual observer to notice. She reasoned that Ma
tteo might if he ever saw her naked again.

  Have you no self-respect? What do you mean “if he sees you naked again?” The man strung you along in some warped vendetta and dropped you like a hot coal, purposely humiliating you at the same time. Even if he begs and pleads and goes down on you for six hours, you are NOT letting him see you naked again.

  She grinned slightly at the image of what her mind thought would maybe make up for what he had done. Yes, the man definitely had a talented tongue. And hands. And cock. But nothing could erase the feeling of devastation he had caused. She was glad he was gone.

  And yet, the past two weeks had been agonizing without him. Cara hadn’t even realized how attached she had grown to Matteo. She reasoned that it was because he had shown her kindness when she had felt most alone, but that was such a small part of it. The attraction she had to him surpassed anything she’d ever known before. Even then, the thought of his storming grey eyes and full lips sent her into a rush of shivers. She had to admit there was a small part of her that just wanted to curl up in his arms where she had finally felt safe for once in her life.

  Dammit! It just goes to show that ALL men are the same. All they care about is themselves and they don’t care who they hurt or why.

  But then an image of Matteo as a small child floated into her head, of him lying on the ground after he had been beaten down. Not by her, but by her order. He was looking up at her with absolute hatred in his eyes. Impotent hatred, but hatred nonetheless. Damn, she had been a colossal bitch as a child. Shame overwhelmed her at the memory of how she had taken out her difficult upbringing on those around her.

  Nothing could excuse what she had done to others. Matteo in particular. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to forgive him either, she thought grimly.

  Her rational voice called her a fool. How could she have been so blind? He had seemed so genuine; his tender affection had felt so real. But it had all been a lie.

  And now, I’m pregnant with his child.

  A wave of nausea followed the thought although if it was because of morning sickness or due to the thought of what an idiot she’d been, Cara didn’t know.