"You too. This is my fiancé, Ivory," I introduced, holding out an arm and inviting my angel into my side. She accepted, gladly pressing herself into me.
"Fiancé?" Rev raised an eyebrow in surprise with a huff of laughter. "I didn't think it'd been that long since we spoke."
"It hasn't," I agreed. "I suspect you'll understand one day."
"It's nice to meet a friend of Teo's," Ivory murmured, pressing a kiss to my cheek and gathering her things. "But I suspect you came to talk business. I'll get out of your hair. Would you like to stay for lunch?" she asked, bringing a smile to my face.
"You're an idiot if you say no," I informed Rev, and he chuckled in that easy, laid back manner he learned from his Southern daddy.
"She a good cook?" he drawled, and Ivory smiled at me smugly.
"A chef actually. The best, but I might be biased."
"Then shit yeah, I'll stay. Won't pass up a good, home cooked meal."
"Great," Ivory agreed with that smile that made my breath catch. She retreated from the office, closing the door behind her and letting us get down to business.
"So, what brings you by?" I asked, sitting down behind my desk and leaving Rev to get comfortable in a chair in front of it. He steepled his hands over his knees, leaning forward to look at me intently.
"I'm retiring."
"Okay," I nodded. Thirty-five wasn't an unheard-of age to retire from pro-sports, and I wasn't an unreasonable man. While Rev's contract with my father had ensured a small cut of Rev's pay came to me, I by no means required it.
I had plenty of money of my own.
"That's it?" he asked, and I chuckled.
"You've more than paid off your school loans at this point. Out of curiosity, what prompted the retirement? I thought you'd play until you dropped dead."
He sat back in his seat, a smile of disbelief flitting across his face. "My kid's in high school, man. My ex just moved to this new town in Colorado, and I ain't gonna miss another minute of his life, you know? Time to settle down."
"Admirable," I agreed. "I wish you the best of luck, Rev. You deserve it. Let's go see what my woman is cooking up."
I wasn't a good man. Was far too hard most of the time. But for a man who did everything he could to hold up his word? A man who worked his ass off and just wanted to spend time with his son?
I could pretend for an hour or two.
Twenty-Nine
Ivory
I was going crazy.
Literally.
I could feel my sanity slowly slipping away the longer I spent in that house. The more days I spent cooped up like a prisoner.
I hated feeling like the world wasn't a safe place and wondering if I'd ever look at it the same. How could I? When I was set to marry a mob boss of Chicago.
Fuck, that still sounded insane.
I shook my head, snapping out of my trance when my engagement ring clinked against the mixing bowl I pulled from the cupboard. I slipped it off my finger, setting it on the bottom shelf of the cabinet for safekeeping while I cooked.
Wearing jewelry was one of those things that I couldn't overlook, even if I rebelled against my culinary training in a lot of ways. Because it was unsanitary and made me feel gross.
Matteo had a sick sixth sense about when I took that ring off.
If I didn't think it would make me paranoid, I'd suspect him of putting a sensor in it.
But that was crazy, right?
Sure enough, he stepped into the kitchen and snatched my ring out of the cupboard in favor of shoving it back onto my finger. He stared down at me, eyes full of rage that we were about to have that damn conversation again.
Yeah, well, I was sick of it too asshole.
I tore it off my finger, shoving it back into the cupboard. "It bumps into everything," I protested. "Not to mention it's gross. Do you know what germs get on rings like that? Nope. Not happening."
Matteo's eyes narrowed on me, studying my face. "You're pissed off today. Are you feeling okay?"
I squinted back, daring him to comment. I'd been hit with sudden spells of nausea the last couple days, at the most random moments. Nothing severe, and the moments passed almost as quickly as they appeared, but I could see the control freak in Matteo rebelling against the notion that something could be wrong with me.
"I told you, I'm fine. I just need fresh air. I need to run, but you won't let me leave the fucking property!"
"Christ, Ivory. The property is huge, you act like you can't run out there."
"It's not the same," I whined. "Please, Teo."
"Not yet," he sighed. "I haven't heard shit about Adrian in over a week. I don't trust it."
"Fine," I groaned, turning back to the counter to mix. If I couldn't exercise, maybe dark chocolate brownies could fix it.
"If you're looking for a workout, I can help with that," he chuckled, stepping into my back and running his lips behind my ear.
"Oh how convenient," I laughed. "I don't think sex is safe anymore. I mean, I could get hurt, you know?" I mocked him, testing his limits. He and I both knew that sex with him wasn't such a workout for me. He put me where he wanted me and took it.
"You can run the show," he whispered, and I froze, turning to face him.
I narrowed my eyes in suspicion. "For how long?" He twisted his lips in thought, and I fought the rising chuckle. "Don't hurt yourself."
"Ten minutes," he offered.
I chuckled, "thirty."
"Fuck woman, what the Hell are you going to do to me that will take thirty minutes?"
"Should we find out?" I whispered, giggling when he turned for the stairs to our bedroom.
✽✽✽
Matteo lasted thirty minutes on the dot before he hauled me up from between his legs, rolled me underneath him and slid inside me. He fucked me until I came on a scream, only then finally letting himself find his own release.
"I wasn't done," I protested with a pout.
"Woman, thirty minutes was up. You were done."
"What were you, counting the minutes?" I giggled, but the serious look he leveled me with made me roar with outright laughter.
"How the fuck else do you think I managed not to come down your throat?" I bit my lip. I never liked blowjobs, never enjoyed swallowing, but something about Matteo was intoxicating, and I wanted him everywhere I could get him.
His gaze darkened, and he cursed. He rolled off me, muttering about how I would drain him dry as he went to the bathroom. I got dressed, deciding that while my jaw had been the only thing to really get a workout, I would make those brownies, anyway. By the time I made my way back to the kitchen, a tiny, delicate trinket dish sat on the counter. I bit my lip, resisting the urge to smile. Gilded in gold around the edges, it was hand painted in a marbled pattern of icy blue and sea green.
Slipping my ring off, I dropped it in the bowl before washing my hands and starting to work on my brownies. When Matteo emerged from his office a few minutes later, he whispered in my ear briefly. "Back on your finger as soon as you finish, yeah?"
I nodded with a smile.
It wasn't about the dish.
It was about him listening to me, respecting my wishes on something, even if it might seem small.
First, he let me be in charge for sex, at least for a little while, then the dish.
Matteo was learning to compromise, and I knew our relationship would be all the better for it.
✽✽✽
The funny thing about boundaries is that they constantly fluctuate.
I should have known Matteo would let me leave the house if it suited his needs.
Evidently, informing my parents of our pending nuptials qualified as important enough to venture off the estate. With two bodyguards anyway.
I'd wanted Matteo to stay home. Knowing my parents' hatred for him, it seemed like the most natural solution to delivering what they would never consider to be good news.
So when I knocked on the front door, it was the only sign that my parents might
get that something was off. Usually if they were expecting me, they'd leave me to let myself in. And I would.
I'd wanted to take off the engagement ring, give us some time to settle them into Matteo's unexpected presence before they were blindsided with the sight of the massive rock on my finger. Matteo had put his foot down, claiming that the woman who would soon be his wife wouldn't be hiding her engagement ring ever.
"Ivory, honey, what are you doing knocking—" My mother broke off, staring wide eyed at Matteo. "Mr. Bellandi."
"Matteo, please." He smiled, and I watched my mom melt in the face of it. When we'd been in high school, my mother had adored Matteo and loved the way he doted on me.
She'd been nearly as crushed as I was when he broke my heart. My father had always disliked him, as most fathers hate their daughters first real boyfriend, and the way things ended set the tone for every other relationship in the future. No one would ever be good enough for me in my father's eyes. Men only used and abused and hurt.
It was why I'd never bothered bringing anyone else home to my parents.
"Of course," my mother smiled. "Would you like to come in?"
"Please." There was no hesitation in his voice, only the slightest edge of victory. He knew as well as I did that, he'd be able to win mom over again. She was the easy one.
"Martim?" Mom hollered, stepping back to let us move into the small home they'd lived in all my life.
"What, woman?" Dad yelled back, and mom rolled her eyes at me.
"Ivory brought a friend!" We moved into the kitchen, following mom to where she was finishing up with dinner. "Can you test the pasta for me, sweetheart?"
I stepped away from Matteo, moving to the stove and scooping out a piece of spaghetti to taste. I felt mom's eyes on my finger nearly immediately and tried to ignore them. She reached over, snatching my hand in hers. "Ivory," she gasped. "You're getting married?" I nodded shyly, preparing for the tirade. Instead, she wrapped her arms around me and clung to me tightly. "Oh, my baby. I'm so happy for you!"
I gave Matteo wide eyes over her shoulder, wondering what the Hell kind of twilight zone I'd landed in. "You are?"
"Oh, sweetie, I know he hurt you. But no one else ever made you happy the way he did, and that's all I want for you. Besides, I'm ready for some grandbabies." She turned her excitement to Matteo. "You will give me grandbabies, right?"
He grinned happily. "As soon as I can manage it, Mrs. Torres."
I choked on my spit, hacking up my lungs like the lady I was. "We haven't talked about kids yet, mom."
"Well, that's all right. You have time before the wedding to work those things out." She waved us off and the other reality sat heavy on my chest.
"Actually, Mrs. Torres, we're getting married July 6th."
"But that's like a month away," she whispered, and my father chose that moment to step into the room. He narrowed his eyes on the ring on the hand my mom still clutched in hers, his face turning red.
"No offense, ma'am, but I've spent too much of my life without Ivory as my wife. I plan to remedy it as soon as possible."
"Like Hell you will," my father growled.
"Martim!" Mom hissed.
"You broke my daughter. I won’t let you do it again."
"With all respect, that's not your decision to make," Matteo said calmly, matter-of-factly. He knew as well as I did that my father's approval was not something he would have for years.
"Daddy," I whispered. "I'm not broken. I never was. Broken-hearted, yes, but I wasn't broken."
He hung his head. "I watched you. For years I watched you keep every man at a distance, because of how he hurt you."
I stepped away from my mother, touching my father's shoulder affectionately. "I didn't do that because I was broken," I admitted, saying the words I had never even dared to speak to myself. But they were the truth, regardless. "I knew, even back then, that what I had with Matteo was special. I knew that I'd never find it again, because I was only capable of falling in love like that once. Not looking was just easier than being disappointed constantly."
"He hurt you," Daddy whispered.
I nodded, feeling tears sting my eyes. "He did," I agreed. "But we were just kids, Daddy. If I can forgive him, why shouldn't you give him a chance to show you why I did?"
My father nodded slowly, turning to Matteo and holding out a hand for him to shake with a sigh. "You hurt her again, and I'll have Adam make sure they never find your body."
Matteo nodded solemnly. "I'll die before I let anything hurt her ever again."
They released hands, helping mom carry things to the table while I checked the pasta.
And we settled into our slightly awkward, first-of-many family dinners.
✽✽✽
There were two more people who needed to know about the wedding, and one of them needed to be the one to approach me.
No matter how things may have turned out, what Sadie had done in calling Matteo to inform him of my date had been a betrayal.
It was one I knew I would forgive her for, but not before she apologized for it at least. My two best friends not knowing that I was getting married, when I'd always seen them every day, was proving to be too much for me. I was an emotional mess, the isolation mixed with the frantic questions from the wedding planner at odd times throughout the day, were going to my head. I needed a brief reminder of someone who had always been a constant in my life.
So naturally, I took to harassing Duke like a maniac. I called him five times a day, even knowing I looked like a crazy person. He'd ignored my calls and texts for long enough, and it was time for both of us to grow up and face the conversation like adults so we could work on mending our friendship.
He'd finally caved, relenting to my emotional plea over the phone for him to come to the estate. I'd completely expected him to refuse to meet me here, but given the security threat from Adrian, Duke seemed more concerned with my safety than with his pride. I figured that had to be a good sign, coming from my hotheaded friend.
Still, when Donatello escorted Duke into the kitchen where I stood wringing my hands in nervousness, the cool expression on his face made me flinch. His normally perfectly styled dirty blond hair was a mess, his smooth face covered in stubble. He shrugged, glancing down at the work clothes he didn't normally wear out of his studio. "I've been working," he explained. "Turns out getting your heart stomped on is good for the muse."
I winced, stepping around the island to stand directly in front of him. "I'm sorry," I said, throat tightening with the threat of tears. "I don't want to hurt you."
He stared down at me, cornflower blue eyes tormented. "Then don't. We can leave town until things die down. Go somewhere Adrian can't touch you." He reached out a hand covered in cuts and scars, calloused and rough, to touch my cheek. I leaned into it briefly, drawing in a deep breath to try to gather my strength to deal with the outcome of my admission.
"We're getting married," I said, steeling my spine.
I watched as his brow furrowed, realizing that given his offer to run away with me, those words had been insensitively vague, but I didn't know what else to say as he stared at me. I stretched up my left hand, taking his hand in mine and squeezing it supportively. I knew the moment he felt the band around my finger, watched as the confusion melted off his face. His eyes landed on the ring, his lip trembling briefly as shock widened his eyes. "You're marrying him?"
"In July."
"Ivory." He croaked, leaning down to press his forehead to mine. "How am I supposed to deal with this? I can't watch you marry him, sweetheart. You're making a mistake."
"Then it was my mistake to make," I whispered back, hating the way his eyes hardened at my words. He pulled his hand back, taking his face from mine and stepping away.
"You don't know what he's capable of. He's—"
"I know everything," I said shortly. I might not have been privy to all the details, but I knew more than I ever wanted to know about Matteo's businesses.
"
You what? Do you hear yourself? The Ivory I know would never be okay sharing her body with a criminal! He hurts people for a living," Duke rasped, staring at me in a way I'd never felt from him.
Judged.
Less.
Somehow, he'd built up this fantasy in his head where I was perfect.
I wasn't. I was a mess, a shell of a woman too afraid to love, because no one would ever live up to the real deal.
No one would ever be Matteo Bellandi.
"You're one of my best friends, Duke. I don't want to lose you, but I won't let you treat me like there's something wrong with me. I love him. I have always loved him, and you know that. What he does for a living"—I paused, shrugging and flopping my ass onto one stool at the island.—"It's not ideal, but I'm not doing it. My part as his wife is just to love him, and I'd be lying to myself if I said that having his love wasn't enough for me."
"Christ, Ivory. I've never been your friend. I've always been waiting for you to come to your senses and see me."
I closed my eyes, drawing in a ragged breath. "One day, you will meet someone who makes you feel the way I feel with Matteo, and suddenly you'll understand. Finding that is what you should have been doing all these years, not waiting on someone who'd already found her person."
"I'm so sorry I wasted my time then. Hopefully this other woman is too smart to fall for some guy's bullshit. Are you so naïve to think he loves you? Christ."
"I do," Matteo's voice announced from the hall that led to his office. I looked to him, watching as Duke spun quickly to face the man he'd always treated like an enemy. In high school, I hadn't really understood.
But hindsight was everything. Duke had been jealous, chasing a relationship he'd never have for over a decade.
"If you did, you'd let her go. She's better off without you," Duke accused.
"Hmm," Matteo mused. "And why do you think I spent so many years without her in my life?" Duke's head jolted, like me, he never could have guessed that Matteo might have been anything other than a cheating dog back then. "As much as you might hate me, I understand it. Losing Ivory is like losing the sun. You had a decade to claim her, Duke. A decade with me out of the picture where you could have made Ivory yours. You could have been married, started a family in that time. But you never told her how you feel, and that's because you knew she didn't feel the same."
Bloodied Hands: A Dark Mafia Romance (Bellandi Crime Syndicate Book 1) Page 20