His Tesoro (Empire of Royals, #1)

by Emilia Rossi

“I don’t think so?” It came out as a question. “How do you not know?” My stomach swooped when Sofiya flinched at my harsh tone.

“Did you get her medical records?” His expression sobered. “I’ve been meaning to update you on that. Franco can’t find anything.” Franco was my top hacker and had never failed to get me the information I needed. “What do you mean?” “If she had medical records, someone destroyed them. And I mean destroyed.

“We’ll schedule a doctor’s appointment to see what they say.” I was sure there was a treatment for her disease if only she saw the right person. “Thank you. That’s… that’s really nice.” My chest grew tight,

“Would you be able to get my wheelchair?” she asked. I scrubbed my hand down my face, my irritation at myself growing. First, I’d made her think she was trapped in her room, and now I’d stranded her on the counter. Some fucking husband I was. This was why I couldn’t allow myself to get close to people. It left me unfocused, scattered.

This morning, she was wearing tight black leggings and a top so small it was closer to a bra. My heart rate sped up even as I set down my weights. “Is it okay if I’m in here?” she asked. Her eyes crept down my bare chest before snapping back to my face, and I felt the inexplicable urge to lift something heavy.

She grasped the weights clumsily and started doing shoulder presses. I gritted my teeth at her shit form. She was going to hurt herself. I dropped my weights again and stormed over. “What are you doing?” Her lips parted as she tilted her head up to look at me. “Umm, lifting weights?” She looked so fucking adorable it made me irritated. I crossed my arms. “You’re doing a terrible job.”

I let my eyes wander down her arms, taking in the expanse of smooth skin, before forcing myself to look at the wheelchair she was using. I hadn’t paid much attention to it before, too focused on the beautiful woman in it, but it was black and clunky. It looked too big and heavy for her. “Is that the best wheelchair for you?” I blurted out before I could stop myself.

My father refused to allow me to get a wheelchair. He said I just needed to be stronger and try harder.” My hands flexed. “My sister and I were trying to figure out how to get one for me, but they’re really expensive, and we didn’t know what to do.” “What do you mean, they’re expensive?” Sofiya gave me a confused expression. “They cost a lot of money?” “Your father is head of the Bratva. He has almost unlimited money.” “Mila and I don’t, though,”

“Please don’t judge me. I know I’m a horrible person, but we were getting desperate. I hadn’t been able to leave my bed for weeks and Mila was panicking, so she convinced our bodyguard to help her break into a medical supply store and steal this.” I waited for her to say more, but she remained silent. “And?” “And what?” Sofiya responded, her voice rising. “This is a stolen wheelchair.

Her eyes snapped to mine and she reached out to touch my hand. “It’s not Mila’s fault. I made her do it.” Her voice carried an edge of panic, as if she thought I was about to whip out my phone to report a crime. My lips twitched. My innocent little wife.

you had to steal a wheelchair that clearly doesn’t fit you because your father wouldn’t give you money for one, and you thought I’d be most upset about the theft?” “Stealing is wrong,” Sofiya said seriously. I gripped her chin. “You were a Bratva princess, and now you’re a Mafia queen. You’re surrounded by much worse criminals than wheelchair thieves.”

“He wasn’t happy when he saw it, though. That’s why he refused to walk me down the aisle.” A muscle ticked in my jaw. I was a cold man. It was who I’d been created to be, who I had to be. But it was hard not to feel something when staring into Sofiya’s big blue eyes.

I picked up the two dumbbells and handed them to Sofiya before pushing off the bench and standing behind her. I caught her reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror covering the back wall of the gym. She was all light—bright hair, bright eyes—to my darkness.

My fingers itched to move, to touch, to figure out why she had such an effect on me.

I needed to get laid, or I was in serious danger of making a move on my wife.

Reading about love just made me feel empty right now.

I didn’t dare try to start a fire—I’d probably burn the entire building down—but as I snuggled deeper underneath my fleece blanket, I imagined being up here with Matteo with a fire going. We could make s’mores—it was one of the items on my Dream List.

I’d spent the past few years practicing being invisible and making myself small. It made me less of a target. But maybe it also made me less of a person. Like I’d slowly stripped myself of all humanity.

These days, my primary emotion was fear, but I wanted to feel more. This new life with Matteo, this sham marriage, wasn’t what I would have chosen, but I needed to make the best of it. And that required taking inspiration from Mila’s bravery.

“Hmm,” was his only response before he sat down across from me. My chest was bursting with relief and excitement. I was starved for company, and he was choosing to be here with me.

“Why are you up so late?” he finally asked, sipping his drink. I chewed my lip, wondering what to tell him. “A nightmare,” I finally admitted. “Something we have in common.” I blinked, shocked that he had revealed something personal about himself.

My mind flitted to my most recent dream. They were always the same—me, helpless and unable to move while the people I loved were harmed. I’d watched Dimi get shot, Mila sliced to pieces more times than my heart could take. No matter what I did to save them, I could never move. I was always stuck, trapped inside a frozen body that couldn’t even crawl to them. Tonight’s nightmare had been the same, except this time, it was Matteo in front of me.

We would never be lovers. He had made that clear. But maybe we could be friends.

What would it be like for him to join me on the couch, to wrap his arms around me and warm me with his body? To feel the press of his lips against mine, but this time without an audience? A pang of sadness squeezed my heart at the thought of what I’d never have.

He stood, glancing back over his shoulder at the fire escape. “I’ll carry you down.” “I can manage it.” I didn’t know what I wanted more—to assert my ability to handle a flight of stairs or to be pressed tight against my husband’s chest again.

My blanket slipped, and Matteo moved it back up my shoulder. His touch lingered, and then he inhaled sharply and turned away, heading back to his room.

I sat down on my bed, my head in my hands. I’d followed my wife up to the roof, and then I’d run away like a coward at the sight of her bare shoulder. Fuck, I was such an idiot.

I’d been in my office since three o’clock this morning, throwing myself into work to distract myself from thoughts of Sofiya. Had she gotten back to sleep? How often did she have nightmares? Did she have everything she needed?

I’d locked my heart away behind impenetrable barriers to become Don. Along the way, I’d lost the ability to be a brother. Sienna was a constant reminder of my failures—my failure to save our parents, my inability to love her the way she needed.

“I just want to meet her. We live in the same building. It’d be nice to, I don’t know, be friends.” “She’s not here to be your friend.” A flash of hurt crossed my sister’s face, and that uncomfortable feeling in my chest intensified.

“What’s she like? Is she nice? Is she pretty?” “I don’t know her.” I wasn’t about to admit that I found my wife rather… captivating.

“Come over the day after tomorrow. You can meet her.” The smallest smile tugged at her lips, and I hoped I was forgiven. “You deserve to be happy, you know,” she said softly.

The kitchen was fully stocked. I grinned as I decided to do some baking and cooking. Only to pass the time, of course. Not to secretly impress my husband with the one skill I had.

“Good morning. And please just call me Sofiya.” “I’m not sure the Boss would like that.” I cocked my head. “But you’re my bodyguard, right? So I don’t know… don’t I get a say?” Angelo chuckled. His laugh was warm and deep and instantly put me at ease. “The Boss has his work cut out with you, doesn’t he?” He winked at me. “Alright, Sofiya. As you wish.”

“Am I allowed to call other people? Like my sister?” “Of course.” “And… can I go on the internet and stuff?” Mila and I’d had a phone the past couple of months—an old model that Nikolai had smuggled in. I’d left it with Mila and had hoped I’d find a way to contact her, but I never expected to just be given a phone. His brow furrowed. “You’re not a prisoner here, Sofiya.”

“You’re married to the Don. That gives you power, status. Do you understand?” He took in my bewildered expression and sighed. “I see you don’t, yet, but you will. You’ll get used to your position and I’m confident you’ll play your role beautifully.” “Thank you,” I whispered. It was one of the nicer things anyone had said to me, not that there was much competition. Although it was another cold reminder that I was just here to play a role.

“Dinner and dessert. It sounds like you’re trying to impress your husband.” I stayed silent as my cheeks burned. “Sofiya!” Mila gasped. “You are. I knew it.”

“I bet he’s more than nice to you. He’s too freaking hot to be your roommate.” I huffed. “He’s not interested in me that way.” “You can’t possibly think that I’d believe that.”

Our father had never hit Mila, and she didn’t know he’d ever hit me. But now that I was out of the house, I was terrified he would turn his anger on her.

“I’ll always worry about you because I love you, Sofiya. I wish… I wish you could let other people love you. You’re so convinced you have to do everything for everyone, but the people who really love you don’t need you to do or be anything for us.”

You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. You’re kind, talented, and you have this energy that draws everyone into your orbit. I think that’s one of the reasons he hid you away. You outshine us all.”

“Very good. I’ll send her up right away,” Giuseppe said. “And, might I say, congratulations on your new bride.” I clenched my jaw, but the doors closed, saving me from responding. I adjusted my sleeves. I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I had every right to be here, to do what I wanted. But the strange, tight feeling in my stomach didn’t go away as I entered my private penthouse suite.

She trailed her fingers down my jaw. My wedding band weighed heavily on my finger.

He always said, “The Family’s life revolves around the Don. The Don’s life must revolve around his wife.” It was no secret he’d allowed mamma to have an opinion on Family matters.

My father had also come down hard on husbands who abused their wives.

My father’s devotion to my mamma had destroyed them. Almost destroyed Sienna and me. But now, faced with the opportunity to cheat on my wife, I found I couldn’t do it.

My father was the man I’d admired most in the world—steady, strong, and loving in his own way. It was a hard thing for a Made Man to raise his heir because he could never fully be a father—he would always be Don to his firstborn child. But my papà had been a husband first, above all else.

“Get out.” My voice was harsh, but I didn’t care. Her touch felt like poison.

“Oh, he’s practicing his comedy routine now,” Romeo huffed.

“Let me get it,” he said, eyeing my wheelchair with concern. “I can move around the kitchen, Angelo.” “But why do that when I’m here, Mrs. Rossi?”