Page 23 of Bellini Bound
Matteo eyed me from over the rim of his glass. “Did you forget I know what it’s like to be in an arranged marriage?”
He was referring to his marriage to his late wife, Allegra. Their match had been brokered between his father, my uncle Dominic, who was the don of the Bellini Mafia before his death, and Emilio Santoro, head of one of the Five Families in New York. It created a powerful alliance that strengthened our family’s position in Chicago.
“There’s no world in which Allison and I become ‘friends.’” I emphasized that last word with air quotes. “She fucking hates me, and having her shackled to me is nothing more than a hindrance, making my life exceedingly difficult.”
“Now, when you say difficult, do you mean hard, like your dick is when you’re around her?” A snicker came from my cousin.
My fist came down on the polished wood of my desk with a deafening crack. “Enough!”
Matteo nodded slowly like he’d just been let in on a secret. “Ah, I get it now. You’ve never experienced sexual frustration before, so these types of outbursts are to be expected until you learn how to cope. Pro tip: a little self-love in the shower goes a long way.”
The wink at the end had me itching to punch him right in the face. Honestly, he was too damn attractive for his own good, and a broken nose would fix that problem.
“Drop it,” I growled. “There is no attraction now, nor will there ever be.”
Good luck getting him to believe that, when you spent last night tossing and turning because you couldn’t stop wondering what she tastes like between those thick thighs.
He lifted his chin. “Then explain why you’re here, hiding from your wife.”
I snorted. “Why would I bother hiding when she’s locked herself in her room?”
That information had Matteo’s eyebrows climbing high on his forehead, and he let out a low whistle. “I mean, you did call her fat in the middle of the wedding. Dick move, by the way.”
While that had been the entire point, it made me sick knowing that particular act of degradation was partially to blame for her hunger strike.
“I don’t remember asking for marriage advice.”
Standing, he placed the empty glass tumbler on the coffee table and buttoned his suit jacket. “Fine. Since you seem to know everything, I’ll leave you to it.”
When he was finally gone, I dropped my head into my hands and let out a pained groan. The situation with Allison was meant to be a punishment for her father, but somehow it had turned into one for me as well.
I wasn’t sure how long we could keep living like this. One week already felt like an eternity, and there was simply no way she would survive much longer without consuming food. While I wasn’t happy about the circumstances that had brought us together, I couldn’t bear the idea that her rebellious acts—because of me—would cause her harm if allowed to continue.
Desperate and at my wits’ end, I grabbed my cell and dialed a familiar number.
As soon as the line connected, I blurted, “I need help.”
Chapter 7
Allie
Knockknockknock.
I groaned into my pillow before rolling over and shouting, “I said I’m not hungry!”
“Then I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t bring any food,” a feminine voice called back.
A flicker of hope lit up in my chest that this might be the rescue I’d spent the last week praying for, and I scurried toward the door. Throwing it open revealed a petite blonde around my age who flashed me a warm smile.
“Mind if I come in?” she asked.
“Uh.” I shifted on my feet, peeking over my shoulder to where there was dirty laundry scattered across the bedroom floor.
By the time I turned back around to politely decline, the woman had lifted a glass bottle and made a show of shaking it gently. “I come bearing wine for a Bellini bitch session.”
A sound that could only be described as a moan slipped past my lips, and all my conjured excuses to bar her entry went up in smoke.
“Wine sounds amazing.” I stepped back from the threshold, making room for her to come inside before latching the door. “But I have to confess, on an empty stomach, one glass will probably be enough to knock me on my ass.”
