His Tesoro (Empire of Royals, #1)

by Emilia Rossi

A lump formed in my throat, and I felt beyond stupid. Why should I be upset that my husband stayed out all night, obviously in the company of more interesting women? He had made it clear we were nothing to each other. I just thought he might wait at least a week after our wedding to take a mistress.

“Thank you. But what do you mean, a wheelchair appointment? I already have a wheelchair.” “Boss said it’s no good,” Angelo said with a shrug. “He was very insistent that you deserve the best.”

“He’s a confusing man,” I finally said. “Not half as confusing as women,” Angelo said. I rolled my eyes, scooting forward so I could snag the container of cookies out of his hand. “Sexists don’t get cookies.” “No, bella, please don’t be like that.” His lip jutted out in a pout.

A smile tugged at Angelo’s lips. “I’m decent.” “Can you teach me? Maybe I can come to poker night if I get good.” He shot me an incredulous look. “A woman at poker night?” But at my scowl, he cleared his throat and quickly added, “It’s about time.” I crossed my arms. “Don’t take the cookies away from me,” he pleaded.

“Do you have a gun range you use to practice?” Angelo took a right turn and parallel parked on a busy street in Midtown. “Why?” “I thought maybe we could go sometime. I need to keep my skills sharp.” My bodyguard snorted. “Your skills?” “What, you don’t believe me? My brother taught me to shoot when I was younger.”

A box of cookies rested on the counter and I snagged one. I took a big bite and stopped in my tracks. It was the best fucking cookie I’d ever had. I usually stayed away from desserts—it didn’t seem right for the Mafia Don to eat sweets—but I needed to figure out where these were from.

I didn’t want to trap her. I just needed her to be within reach at all times.

I didn’t want Sofiya to know I was here. I wasn’t even sure why I was here. The only reason I’d even set up this appointment was because as the Don’s wife, Sofiya needed the best. And I would always give her the best. I ignored the satisfaction I felt at the thought of providing for her.

This wheelchair looked much lighter and better fitting than her stolen one. The back and bottom were cushioned, and my wife’s smile was fucking radiant as she spun around. My chest ached as I watched her.

I bristled at the anxiety in her voice and braced myself for how the staff would answer. If they said anything to upset her…

Sofiya’s shoulders softened as if a weight had been lifted. I hadn’t realized she was concerned about this, but I should have after hearing how her father treated her when he found out about the wheelchair. But she lived with me now, not him.

The more I watched her, the more I wanted to be close to her. For the first time in years, I felt the urge to take time off from work. I imagined spending the day with Sofiya, going outside with her how she wanted.

“It will be ready in a week,” I said. “Wait, a week? I thought it took forever to get a custom wheelchair made.” Angelo snorted. “You don’t get it yet, do you? You’re married to the Don. Normal rules don’t apply.” A pretty blush spread across her cheeks, and I felt like puffing up my chest.

Sofiya took my offered arm to get into the armored BMW, and it filled me with a sense of satisfaction. Almost as much satisfaction as seeing her in my passenger seat when I rounded the car, her cheeks pink and lips smiling like she was happy to be with me.

I didn’t know whether to laugh or scream at his short response. “Are you being charged by the word? Because I was under the impression you’d be able to afford some sort of unlimited speaking plan.” Matteo glanced at me, brow furrowed. “What?” “That probably cost you another ten cents,” I muttered.

It sounded like they were speaking Russian, so I was wondering if you could see if you understand them.” I stared at him, lips parted. Not only had he spoken multiple sentences in a row, he was letting me get involved in Mafia business. But the part I was most fixated on was the fact that last night, he was at a safe house, not with a mistress.

“That paragraph probably cost me a dollar fifty,” Matteo said. “Oh. My. God.” Did he just make a joke? I stared at my husband in befuddled awe, which only grew as his expression transformed into a smirk. It was almost a real smile.

“Stay there,” Matteo said, getting out of the car and rounding to my side. He opened the passenger door and leaned in toward me. His large frame caged me in, imposing but somehow comforting.

My eyes traced over his strong, square jaw, his lips that looked impossibly soft, the little scar under his eye I’d never noticed. We seemed to both be taking the other in, and then our eyes met. Were we leaning in closer to each other?

Would he kiss me? Our kiss at the ceremony had been too brief, and I wanted another. Matteo straightened abruptly. “I’ll get your chair.” My heart sank and I squeezed my eyes shut for a second before opening them again. I was being stupid.

“Can you not do that?” “Do what?” “Push my chair. I don’t really like people touching it.” I braced myself for his anger, or at least his frustration, but he just released the handles. “But you’re tired,” he said. I cocked my head. “How do you know that?” He crossed his arms. “I know everything.” He sounded so grumpy I couldn’t stop myself from smiling.

“So, if you’re tired, why can’t I push you?”

“I guess it would be okay. If you ask first.” I must have had a death wish, but I did get some enjoyment at seeing Matteo’s eye twitch. Even if it was the last thing I ever saw.

“Sofiya’s decided to be a nuisance,” Matteo said, but there was no bite in his voice. “As she should be,” Angelo said. His expression immediately sobered when Matteo glared at him. I rolled my eyes. “Oh come on, he’s not that scary.”

“I will warn you before I touch your chair. That’s the best I can do.” Then he turned to my bodyguard. “You’re not to push her in the wheelchair without asking her permission.” Angelo looked down at me and nodded seriously. A warm fuzziness filled my chest.

I snorted but sat back as my husband moved me to the elevator. Having him at my back was strangely comforting.

Matteo moved close to my side. “You alright to do this?” he asked. I looked up at him with a frown. “Yes, I’m fine. Are you okay?” He scoffed. “I’m always okay.” I just hummed. He seemed tense, but I had no idea why.

“One of them is my husband, Matteo.” Saying husband out loud made it feel more real. “He gave us candy because I said I liked chocolate,” she said softly. She pulled out a large paper bag from behind her and tipped it to show me—it was absolutely bulging with candy bars.

“Come on, let’s go home,” Matteo said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. “And I will push you.”

“This marriage is about the alliance. You know that.” “But…” Sienna was, for once, at a loss for words. “You are being nice to her, right?”

Sofiya sat down on one of the kitchen stools, but her movements were stiff, jerky. There were dark shadows under her eyes. Was she in pain?

She reached out and grasped Sofiya’s hand, but her smile faded as she took in the plain gold band. Her disapproving gaze landed on me. “Where’s the engagement ring?” “We weren’t engaged,” I said, finishing the last of my coffee. It was true, but as Sofiya gently removed her hand from my sister’s grasp, her smile falling, an uncomfortable tightness settled in my chest.

My eyes were wide as Matteo stormed out of the apartment. Had I done something to upset him? After how we left things yesterday, I’d been hopeful about things going forward. But now, the uncomfortable feeling in my stomach was back. Whenever my father got mad, it always meant worse things later.

It had been years since I went shopping. Once I started using mobility aids, the Pakhan forbade me from leaving the house. He said it was because his enemies would target me, but I knew it was really an effort to hide his dark shame—the head of the Bratva with a disabled daughter. Matteo didn’t seem to have the same reservations about me being seen in public, although maybe that was why he’d been angry at the idea of Sienna and me going out. I clenched my jaw as a wave of overwhelming emotion washed over me. The urge to make myself small, to hide away, was strong. I had to be stronger.

“Before we go, is there anything specific you need? Or that would be helpful to you?” My chest grew tight at her concern, and especially the way she asked, as if it were no big deal.

I’d never worn something so pretty. I sat down on the seat of my rollator, but instead of feeling awkward and frumpy, a high slit parted to reveal my thigh, making me feel almost sexy. My EDS made my skin especially sensitive, but this dress fabric was silky soft and didn’t cause irritation.

“I just… I can’t afford it.” Sienna’s face fell. “It’s totally fine,” I rushed to say. “I’m happy to watch you try things on and get to know you.” “Sofiya, you’re married to my brother.” She spoke the words slowly. I cocked my head, confused. I’d never had any sort of allowance from the Pakhan, and Matteo hadn’t said anything different.

“What are you doing?” I asked quickly. “Texting Matteo, the idiot.” “Wait, no, don’t do that.” Sienna must have heard the panic in my voice because she looked up from the phone, lips parted. “I don’t want him to be mad.”

“Good. He’s not like that, Sofiya. He protects the ones close to him, I promise. But we can wait to address the credit card issue if it makes you nervous. I’ll just pay for today.” She already had her finger held up to ward off my protests. “No, I insist. I’ll buy you things whether you want me to or not, so you might as well choose what you want.”

Angelo rested a gentle hand on my shoulder. “We’re going home after this.” He cocked an eyebrow as if daring me to argue, but I just gave him a small nod.

Papà loved my mom so much. It almost makes me glad they both died, because I couldn’t imagine them living without the other.” She took a sip of water and cleared her throat. “It made me certain I would never settle for less in marriage. I’m practically a spinster in Mafia years, but I can’t settle. I made Matteo promise he would never force me to marry.”

He thinks the only way to be a good Don is to cut himself off from his feelings.”

“Aww, so young. She needs to come visit. There’s far too much masculine energy in our building. We need more girls so we can overpower them.” I laughed at her disgruntled expression. “Overpower them?” “With our feminine energy,” she said with a wink.

I didn’t have the energy to get up, so I curled up on the floor, tears streaking down my face. I was being a baby, but I’d always had Mila with me during bad flare-ups, and I missed her desperately. My bedroom door crashed open and I cried out.

My heart pounded in fear until I realized it was Matteo. He flipped on the overhead light, and I shut my eyes as the brightness sent a dagger through my head. “What the fuck is happening?” he growled.

“Shit. Did you fall?” I cracked my eyes open to find Matteo crouched over me.

“Okay, let’s get you back in bed.” Strong arms surrounded me as he lifted me off the floor and gently laid me on the mattress.

He stayed silent as he set a glass of water on the nightstand and plugged in the heating pad. I winced as I sat up, and Matteo quickly moved to help me, arranging a few pillows behind my back.

“I was stupid and left my wheelchair too far away. My joints are hurting and my ankle just gave out while I was trying to get to it.” Matteo glanced at the few feet between my chair and the bed. “You’re in pain?” I must have imagined the strain in his voice.

“What else helps?” I blinked. “Oh, um, I don’t know.” At his stern expression, I huffed. “A hot bath with Epsom salts can sometimes help.” “Okay.”