Page 40 of Wicked Bloodlines

“Extra baggage?” My voice came out rough. I didn’t recognize it. “Is that what you think?”

She didn’t answer. Didn’t even look at me. Jesus Christ. She actually believed what she’d just said.

I caught her chin and made her look at me. “Don’t ever say that again. You are not baggage, Sofia. You’re everything.” My thumb caught on the bruise starting to bloom under her eye, and I saw red all over again. “You hear me, woman? You’re my fucking everything.” She opened her mouth to speak, but I kissed her. I needed to taste her, to take the fear and doubt away but now wasn’t the time. I’d have her back in our bedroom soon, and I’d explain everything to her. And we were most definitely getting married at the earliest possible convenience.

“I trust you’ll explain things to her when you get her upstairs?” Dario gave me a pointed look.

I grinned back at my brother. “Absolutely I will. Right after I spank her for putting herself in danger.”

As I hoped, Sofia gave a little half laugh, half sob, but she no longer tried to push away from me. She clung to me and I breathed out a sigh of relief. We’d be fine. She was mine and always would be.

“It actually makes sense,” Dario continued. “By removing Cesare from the picture, by marrying Sofia he’d have more legitimacy than just being pissed Cesare didn’t come through with a business deal. Not strictly necessary, but if she’s there for the taking, why not?”

“Man’s definitely got a plan. What it is or how it will affect us remains to be seen, but nothing that happened here tonight, other than possibly the old guard taking exception with Cesare’s actions will prevent the other families from accepting Antonio’s power grab.”

I sighed, a grin tugging at the corner of my lip, though there was nothing humorous about the situation. “You have to admire the simplicity of it.”

“Yes,” Dario agreed. “No matter how it’s spun, the fact is, everyone will believe we executed Cesare. Not Antonio. We had a good reason, so the cops won’t care. The families won’t fuss…”

“And Antonio gets control of the Rossi enterprise.” I shook my head. “That’s a masterful stroke. You have to admire it.”

The conversation wound down. My brothers gave their final orders for the cleanup crews. The house would be scoured, the blood washed away, the broken glass swept up. The men moved out, their footsteps fading as they went about their grim work. Soon, the great hall was empty again.

I took Sofia home and helped her wash in the bathroom off of Dario’s study. Once we’d finished, and I’d dressed her in a pair of my gym shorts and a T-shirt one of the staff brought me, I sat with her in Dario’s office on the couch across from Dario’s big, ornate desk. I held her in my lap while she curled up against my chest. I wrapped a blanket around her and breathed in her scent, thankful she was here in my arms instead of one of the many unpleasant alternatives in the recent scenario.

“Do you think he’ll come after me?” Sofia spoke for the first time. She sounded stronger than she had earlier, but we still had a lot to talk about later. Sofia was my woman. The sooner she realized that the better off she’d be. Not only was I never letting her go, but I planned on making her so fucking happy she never wanted to leave me.

Dario met my gaze steadily as he answered Sofia. “No, I don’t. Antonio’s on borrowed time.” To say Dario didn’t like to be played was a vast understatement. And I would hate to be Anthony Rossi.

“Matteo,” she said, her voice raw, stripped bare. “I still want to marry you.” She paused, the weight of her next words hanging in the air. “But only if it’s real.” She glanced over at Dario, lowering her gaze but not backing down. “I don’t want to be a burden on anyone and I couldn’t bear it if —” She cut off, sucking in a breath.

“If I took other lovers because our marriage was one of convenience instead of love?” A little sob escaped her, and Sofia buried her face in my chest. “I think that’s my cue to take her back to our suite.”

Dario grinned at me. “I agree. You lock her down, brother. You both deserve to be happy and I think you have a very, very good chance of making each other happy.”

Our arrangement, born from both our wicked bloodlines and necessity, had become something I hadn’t anticipated. She challenged everything I thought I knew about my life, about what I wanted.

As I carried her upstairs, I remembered the words she’d whispered in the Marchesi estate, just before she’d brought Cesare crashing down. Words I hadn’t expected, hadn’t earned.

I lay her on the bed and sat beside her. Leaning down, I kissed her gently, stroking her cheek with my thumb as I cupped her face in one hand. “I love you, Sofia,” I said. The words simple yet held so much weight. “I’ve never said that to another living soul and I doubt I ever will again. Except to you, Sofia. You own me.” I shook my head as I looked down at her. “I can’t explain it any better than that. I’m yours, honey. Now and always.”

Outside the storm still lingered, but had tapered off, leaving the night cool and damp. The first gray streaks of dawn began to paint the room through the large windows off the balcony. Sofia tugged me down closer so she could kiss me again. This time, I tasted the salt of her tears.

When I pulled back, the smile she gave me was nothing short of glorious. “I love you, too, Matteo. Always.” The first time in my life, I felt a quiet certainty I’d finally found true peace.

Chapter Fifteen

Sofia

Ilay against Matteo’s chest, his heartbeat a slow, steady drum beneath my ear. Though the storm had died down, the rain still lashed against the windows, a rhythmic roar that somehow muted the world, made it intimate. The bruise on my temple throbbed, a dull ache that anchored me to the ugly reality of what had happened, but here, in Matteo’s arms, it felt distant. Like a scar I was learning to live with.

His arm was heavy across my waist, holding me close. I could feel the rise and fall of his chest, the slow, deep breaths that meant he was asleep, or close to it. I traced the line of his jaw with my finger, feeling the rough stubble.

“Matteo,” I whispered, my voice thick from the night, from exhaustion.

He grunted, shifting slightly, but his eyes stayed closed. “Yeah, baby?”

“Why did you agree marry me?” The words felt small, raw. I needed to know. No more lies, no more dancing around it. Not after everything. I knew what he’d said before, but I needed to hear it where I could study him and really assess his reactions. I needed this.