“Liar!” she shouts.
“I am not lying. I love you, Heaven.” I choke on the words, because for as much as I do love her, I have been lying to her…just not the lies she seems to believe.
“My father was acting strange today before we went into the church, then Conor told me all of that crap about my dad wanting me out of his hair…” her voice trails off, her cheeks pink with anger. “I don’t think I could take it if you’re holding back, too.”
“I’m not,” I croak. “But there is an issue with Dominguez. He knows for sure it was Conor who killed Santos Rojas.”
Heaven gasps. “Are you sure?”
I nod, rubbing the back of my neck. “That’s why I’ve been distant. He approached me outside of the church. I’m just trying to figure out how to hold him off. We’re married now and that should be enough to tell him your family is off-limits, but…” I swallow hard. “He’s made insinuations that he isn’t afraid to take us on.”
A big, fat, steaming pile of bullshit.
And the first lies I’ve told my brand-new wife.
The problem is, the lies are about to swallow us all whole.
“We have to tell my father,” she says, an angry edge to her voice. “If Conor’s complete lack of concern for our family is about to erupt into a war, he needs to know! We have to take action!”
“Easy, killer,” I say. “I will handle this, okay? It’s why your father hired me in the first place.”
“Yes, but what about everyone else? How can we not tell them the risks? I mean, that crazy asshole can be stalking us right now!”
“And that’s why you have to trust me,” I murmur, trailing my fingers down her injured arm. She jumps when they graze her wound. “I’m sorry. Did that hurt?”
She shakes her head. “No, it’s just a reminder…you know, of everything. What he did, what he got away with. I hate him,” she seethes. “Is it horrible to admit that I just want Dominguez to ice him?” Heaven manages a small smile. “I mean, we’re not in church anymore.”
“I don’t think it’s horrible at all,” I say, grasping her hands and bringing them to my lips. “And for as sadistic as you are, you’re also gorgeous. You look stunning, babe. I’m sorry for not saying it sooner.”
Her lips curl upward and she slides closer to me on the seat. “Just please promise me that this will end, Matteo. That the people who deserve to pay, do.”
I nod. “They will.”
And that’s the truth.
But it’s the how that remains to be seen.
Chapter Nineteen
Heaven
We pull up to The White Dove a few minutes later. It’s one of my family’s more upscale restaurants. I always loved cooking here with my mother when she was alive. We made up new recipes all the time — always fancy, always exotic.
I gaze up at the discreet sign once I’m standing on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant. I remember when we put it up, so many years ago. We had no idea at that time if this restaurant would take off since it’s basically the worst investment you can make.
But with my mother’s magic touch, the restaurant exploded in popularity, and to this day, it’s near impossible to get a reservation. Patrons book weeks out for a table, and with the first-class chefs we have running the kitchen, it’s no surprise.
Still…none of them are my mom.
And none will ever be.
Matteo joins me and drapes an arm around my shoulder. “What are you thinking about?”
I look up at him. “My past,” I say. “And my future.”
“Our future, I hope,” he quips.
“Time will tell.” I smirk, linking my arm with his. I gather my skirt with my other hand so it doesn’t drag on the pavement. “You know, having our wedding dinner here makes me feel like my mother is with us. So many of the recipes we still serve are hers. It’s nice to know she’s kind of hosting the party for us.”
Matteo gives me a squeeze. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now.”
“Me, too,” I say. “Although, I can’t say I’m not excited to go home with you later.”
“That’s when you’ll get your real wedding present.”
I open my eyes wide, a mock look of shock on my face. “Wait, so you’re not the real gift? I get more?”
“Oh yeah,” he murmurs, nuzzling my ear. “Lots more.”
“I can’t wait.” And with that, we walk into our reception. I force all Conor-inspired rage to the far corners of my mind, instead focusing on what I actually can control.
We walk into the restaurant, which has been closed off to the public. I love the vibe in here. It’s so chic and sophisticated with creamy white walls and décor with carefully curated pops of bold color that add life and exuberance to the space. It is so much like my mother. She was always so calming and even-tempered despite the Irish blood.
But every once in a while, she had a point to make and she made sure everyone heard it. Those were the only times I’d see hints of her powerful alter ego.
The rest of the time, she was cool as a cucumber. The fact that she was married to a mob boss might have had something to do with that.
I didn’t get the calm gene, unfortunately — for me and Matteo.
We walk into the main dining room, greeted by tiny white lights wrapped in tulle and draped across the ceiling. The crystal chandeliers are dimmed, casting a soft glow over the space. The finest bone china and most delicate crystal graces the tabletops, along with small, tight bunches of white calla lilies. Each bunch is wrapped around one single red lily.
Tranquil…with coiling passion at the root.
Yep, it’s almost as if my mother guided the hand of the florist.
I smile, breathing in the fresh floral scent.
She’s not here, but I can feel her.
Both of them.
Mom, Molly…
For years, I suffered the losses of two of the women in the world who mattered most to me.
I buried myself in my work, trying to compensate for everything I’d done wrong and prove out everything I could do right.
Today I am more certain than ever that I will succeed in my goals.
I can fix us.
I have the power and the love of a man who makes me feel like I can take on the world, even when I’m secretly afraid I can’t.
“Matty!” A loud voice bellows from the front entrance, and I spin around with a grin on my face as Matteo’s brothers barrel into the restaurant.
Roman gathers me in a bear hug, stepping aside so that an older man I take to be my new father-in-law kisses me on both cheeks before giving me a tight hug. He pulls away, a smile on his aged face. “Bellisima, I am Matteo’s father, Paolo,” he says, squeezing my hands tight. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” I say. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” I look up at his other brothers. “All of you.”
“Matty, Romo sure was right when he said you were marrying up,” the tallest of the guys says with a movie-actor smile.
“Oh, did you, Matty?” I mimic with a grin, nudging Matteo. I hold out my hand to his brother. “Heaven.”
“Fuck yeah, you are,” he says, waving away my hand and pulling me in for a hug. “We’re family now. And this family doesn’t do handshakes. Got that, sis?”
“Sure do…uh, who are you, again?” I say with a chuckle.
He grins wider. “Sergio. The only name you really need to remember.”
Matteo rolls his eyes and introduces me to the other brother, Dante. After more hugs and well wishes, we’re surrounded by our families, holding flutes full of champagne.
“Always thought it’d be a cold day in hell that Matty got hitched,” Dante drops his voice and whispers with a wink. “Pretty ironic that he ended up in Heaven.”
I nearly spit out my champagne. My cheeks flame red as my new brothers-in-law hoot and catcall. Jesus, I’ve got my hands full with these Italians.
It isn’t long before my brothe
rs edge in on the action.
Looks like we’re all one big happy gangster family now.
My father finally looks relaxed, although his ruddy complexion tells me it’s courtesy of a lot of whiskey. He and Matteo’s father are chatting politely, which is always a good sign. After all, we’re united now. All for one, and one for all.
Aunt Maura fusses over my hair, makeup, and dress. “You look like a princess.”
“Thanks, Aunt Maura,” I say, wrapping my arms around her. “And thank you for everything. For all of these years. When Mom died, I was so lost. Thank you for helping me to find myself.”
She gives me a squeeze. “What kind of world would this be without our own little slice of Heaven?” she says, making a play on my name.
“Well, it’d probably be a quieter one,” Patrick chimes in from behind me. He and Quinn and Niall bring over shots of whiskey and hand them around. “Now that we’re done with the chick booze, let’s get to the hard stuff!”
“I resent that,” I say, gulping down the fiery, amber-colored liquid.
“Just like a champ,” Matteo snips, sucking down his own shot.
The shots keep coming, but Patrick pulls me away from the group, his expression curious and maybe a little incredulous.
“Heaven, is it me or do you actually like your husband?” he asks, a smirk on his face. “Because the way you guys are acting makes me think that tonight won’t be the first time…” he clears his throat. “Matteo is in Heaven.”
I give his arm a whack, chortling loudly. “Patty, it’s kind of crazy to me, too.” I look back at Matteo, smiling at him as I watch him get harassed by his brothers. “It just, I don’t know, happened. So fast, too. I’m still kind of in shock myself.”
“You took one for the team, that’s for damn sure. I just never expected you’d fall for the ginzo.”
“Me either,” I muse. “But it’s the best of both worlds, right? Everyone is safe, and things worked out for me and Matteo.” A nagging feeling in my gut reminds me that all is definitely not well and that Dominguez is still a threat. But I also know Matteo will do everything he can to make good on his arrangement with Dad. He has a network, and if Dominguez wants to battle, Matteo can just call in the troops.
I take a deep breath.
Yes, everything will be fine.
And once Dominguez is out of the way, there won’t be any other roadblocks littering my path.
I’ll take care of Conor myself when the time comes.
“I’m really happy for you, sis. I mean, you married down, but you know. He’s got money, so…” Patrick shrugs, his blue eyes glittering with mischief. “There’s that. Plus, Italian guys are supposed to be, ah, kind of a big deal in the bedroom, yeah? So don’t feel too bad about things.”
I giggle. A big deal in the bedroom? That’s a gross understatement if I ever heard one. But I don’t need to discuss the size of my husband’s member with my baby brother. That’s just way too much information to dish. “I feel quite…satisfied. In all regards. And we can just leave it at that, okay?”
Patrick makes a few gagging sounds and clutches his throat, pretending to stumble backward.
“You’re the one who brought it up!” I shriek with laughter.
“Brought what up?” Matteo says, grabbing me from behind and spinning me around to plant a kiss on my lips.
“Oh, um, our honeymoon plans.”
“Shit. The honeymoon.” Matteo flashes a guilty smile. “In all honesty, I didn’t know if we’d get anywhere alive considering where things started between us.”
“A fair assumption.” I wink at him.
“But maybe now’s a good time to talk about what we can do,” he murmurs, pulling me close to his broad chest.
“Okay, I don’t really need to hear about what you are going to do to my sister, so this is probably my cue to exit,” Patrick quips, darting around Matteo after clapping him on the back. “Welcome to the family, bro. Best of luck to ya!”
The evening…the dinner to celebrate our sham-turned-heartfelt union…passes by in a flash of laughter, dancing, and chatter.
It’s perfect.
And everything I never thought I’d want in a million years.
At some point during the night, I gaze around the dining room, noticing that one grimacing face is missing from the party.
Conor.
I guess I’d been too focused on floating in my blissfully married bubble to notice earlier that he wasn’t around.
Can’t say that it bothers me much, either. Seeing him just makes my stomach roll. I can’t believe I questioned Matteo because of some bullshit Conor spewed in his drunken and probably drugged-up stupor at the church.
A tiny part of me hopes he chokes on his own vomit when he passes out.
Wait, no!
I can’t think that. It’s my wedding day.
I refuse to wish death on my brother today.
I smile at my husband.
I’ll leave that for tomorrow.
Chapter Twenty
Matteo
“I know it’s not as glamorous as the wedding night you probably envisioned for yourself, but it’s the place I can keep you safest,” I say to Heaven as we walk up the stairs leading into my townhouse. “I promise once I take care of this whole Dominguez mess, I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”
“Anywhere?” she asks, a seductive smile tugging at her lush lips.
“Anywhere,” I murmur, scooping my arm under her legs and hoisting her up before we cross the threshold together as husband and wife.
“Wow, so romantic,” she says as I place her high-heeled feet on the polished wood floor in the foyer.
I shrug, closing all of the locks and setting the alarm. “I can be traditional.”
She gazes up at me, trailing a finger down the side of my tuxedo jacket. “I like the other things you can be, too.”
I pull out hairpins one by one, her long, wavy red hair cascading slowly over her shoulders. “That hairdo looked painful. Does that feel better?”
She places her hands on my hips, swaying into me. “So much better.”
“So, honeymoon,” I say again. “You deserve one. Any ideas about where you want to go?” That is, after I figure out how to disable a powerful drug lord whose hit list I now top because I told him to stand down for a minute.
I’m gonna need a vacation after pulling off that kind of miracle…the one where I don’t get myself killed in the process. Otherwise, my beautiful bride will be a widow before she gets to take said vacation.
She drops her head back, a dreamy look in her eyes. “I’d really love to go to Bonaire.”
“Never heard of it,” I say. “Where is it?”
“It’s an island in the Caribbean Netherlands off the coast of Venezuela. Big for scuba diving.”
“Oh, you dive?” I smirk. “I didn’t think you had any hobbies besides cooking and maiming.”
“I’m certified, but I’ve never done a real trip before. Molly and I…” She pauses, her forehead pinched. “Molly and I got certified together. It was a few months before she was taken. We’d always promised each other that we’d go to Bonaire together to see the ostracods. That’s why we got certified in the first place. We’d seen pictures of these tiny crustaceans that light up the ocean every month, a few nights after a full moon. I can’t even imagine what they look like in person. They cast this crazy bioluminescent glow over the water and when you’re underwater among them, it looks like you’re floating in space amidst the stars.” A small smile tugs at her lips. “I’d love to experience that with you, if you’re open to it.”
“Well, I don't love the idea of being stuck miles deep down in the ocean, I’m not a strong swimmer, and I have a pretty serious fear of suffocation,” I say with a smirk. “But, sure, I’ll get certified and become a scuba diver. We can go see the ostracods. If it's gonna make you happy, I'll suck it up.”
“It’s only about thirty feet deep. And trust me to do plenty of th
e sucking to return the favor,” she says in a coy voice. Her eyes widen. “Oh, I forgot the best part! They glow because they’re mating! Isn’t that so amazing? Like lightning bugs but under the water! And how perfect for a honeymoon?”
She clasps her hands together and I can’t help but laugh despite the fact that there is probably a Mexican army staking out my townhouse right now with Christ only knows what kind of firepower.
“It would be perfect,” I murmur. “But since we can’t exactly fly to Bonaire tonight, we need to come up with a Plan B. Any ideas?” I gaze down at her, dragging my finger down the side of her face. Her porcelain skin is so soft and smooth, her crystal blue eyes glittering with pent-up desire in the overhead light.
“I want you to take me to your room,” she whispers.
“Okay.” I bend down to pick her up and walk her toward the main staircase, but she shakes her head.
“No, not that room. The other room.” She points toward a door, a closed door down the hallway. My cock jumps. She’s obviously been making herself comfortable in her new home, seeing all of the amenities it has to offer. I pass the stairs and follow the hallway to the closed door. With one hand, I twist the knob and push it open, carrying her inside. Her white dress is a stark contrast to the deep blood red color of the walls surrounding us. I wanted to drape the room in a fiery, passionate color to match the tone of the carnal acts to be committed within these walls. The beaded white train of her wedding gown gathers around her feet, the shimmer of the crystals sewn into the fabric catching in the light. She glitters and glows as she sashays over to me, lacing her fingers with mine and winding my arm around her waist as she settles her back against me. I watch her scour every corner of the room until her eyes settle on the Texas king bed in the center of the space. The large mirror hanging on the ceiling over it doesn’t escape her attention, either.
“Kinky fucker,” she murmurs.
The comforter is thick red satin, a shade that exactly matches the walls. Heaven pulls me over to the bed, fingering the restraints, wrist and ankle cuffs. She narrows her eyes at me.
Savage Ruler: A Dark Italian - Irish Mafia Arranged Marriage Romance (Sinfully Savage) Page 17