His Tesoro: An Arranged Marriage Age Gap Mafia Romance (Empire of Royals Book 1)

“I hear you’re avoiding your new wife,” Romeo said. He gave me a shit-eating grin as he collapsed into the leather chair across from my desk.

I knew I should have gotten that chair removed. I didn’t want anyone to be comfortable in my office. Now my number two was reclined back in the chair with his feet on my fucking desk.

“I’m not avoiding her.” I rubbed my jaw. I’d developed a tic with how hard I’d clenched it the past few days.

Romeo cocked a brow. “Sure. That’s why you slept at the Star last night.”

“It was more convenient,” I said. The Star was one of the luxury hotels I owned downtown.

Romeo hummed as he crossed his arms. “Pretty little thing must be getting lonely. Maybe I should go over and keep her company.”

I was out of my seat before I realized what I was doing, my hand moving towards the gun I kept hidden under my jacket.

Romeo laughed as he raised his hands in surrender. “Fuck, Matteo. Feeling a little possessive?”

My breaths were heavy, and I felt an inexplicable need to see Sofiya. The thought of any man being around her made me murderous, and I couldn’t understand why.

“We’ll talk about the drug run later,” I gritted out, grabbing my phone and keys and storming out of the office.

“Say hello to your bride for me,” Romeo called out after me.

“Report,” I commanded Angelo. He was stationed outside the apartment where I’d left him yesterday morning. Enzo was assigned to the night shift. They would have switched off a few hours ago.

Angelo shifted uncomfortably, putting me on high alert.

“She’s been in her room,” he said.

“So?” I barked. Angelo was hiding something, and it was pissing me off.

“I mean, she hasn’t left her room, Boss. This whole time.”

Angelo and Enzo were the only ones besides Romeo and me with access to the video feeds inside the apartment. While I had cameras in all the common spaces, I drew the line at having them inside the bedrooms.

“Since yesterday morning?”

Angelo nodded.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” I snarled. That strange feeling in my chest kicked up again. I resisted the temptation to rub it. What the fuck was she doing in there?

“You said you didn’t want to be disturbed, Boss. Unless she tried to leave.”

My fist clenched with the urge to punch him. Angelo had quickly risen through my ranks. I’d chosen him for my inner circle after he’d saved my life in an ambush. He was one of the best shots in the entire Family and had proven himself loyal. But right now? I wanted to kill him. He swallowed hard, but didn’t avert his gaze.

I would deal with him later. Right now, I had to deal with my wife.

I jerked my head, signaling him to open the door, and swept into the apartment. I glanced over at the kitchen as if Sofiya would be there, sweetly smiling as she tucked her hair behind her ear or pulled cinnamon rolls out of the oven. I would never admit it to anyone, but they were one of my favorite foods.

But the apartment was quiet.

I went to her room and knocked on the door. When there wasn’t an immediate answer, I strode in to find my wife curled up under the covers, facing away from me. That weird twinge in my chest started again. Maybe I needed to see the doctor to make sure I wasn’t having a heart attack.

“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice sounding loud and harsh in the silent room.

Sofiya jolted, and I realized she’d been sleeping.

“Matteo?” She scrambled to sit against the headboard. She kept her eyes averted, tension lining her shoulders. Her oversized black sweatshirt made her look pale, eyes shadowed by dark circles.

“What are you doing?” I asked again, this time trying to control my voice.

“I was sleeping. Sorry,” she added in a whisper. Her hands twisted in the covers.

“Why are you sorry?” I took a few steps towards the bed.

“You seem angry.”

I had been angry, but it was hard to hold on to the emotion when staring down at this frail girl.

I let out a loud sigh, unsure where to take this conversation. “I heard you’ve been in this room since yesterday.”

She nodded but didn’t offer an explanation for her absurd behavior.

“Have you eaten?”

She bit her lip, eyes briefly meeting mine before she looked away again. I clenched my jaw to stop myself from demanding she keep her eyes on me.

“I had a candy bar in my bag,” she mumbled.

“You ate a candy bar?” She’d holed up in her room all day and night with a single candy bar?

To my horror, her bottom lip started trembling and her eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do or what the rules are. I can do better. Just tell me what to do.”

I stood frozen as Sofiya curled in on herself, her shoulders shaking. Nothing in my training had prepared me for this.

“Stop crying,” I snapped.

Sofiya made a tiny hiccuping sound and pursed her lips together to silence her sobs.

I ran my hand down my face. Should I call someone? My sister would know what to do. But calling someone else right now would be to admit I’d been defeated by this girl.

Clenching my jaw to keep myself from lashing out, I sat down on the edge of the bed and put my hand on her shoulder. She stiffened, and my mood soured even further. I removed my hand.

“Will you tell me what I did wrong?” she asked softly.

I furrowed my brow. “Nothing. But you need to eat. Come on.”

I stood as she put her legs over the side of the mattress. She reached for her walker with shaky hands, fingers white as she clenched the handles. My scowl deepened as she tried to stand and fell back to the bed.

“What’s wrong?” For once, I wished I knew how to speak… gently or some shit like that.

“Sorry, I’m just a little shaky.” She bit her lip and took a deep breath, as if bracing for something. “Could you get my wheelchair?”

Her wheelchair was in the corner of the room. It would be easy for me to get it for her, but for some reason, I found myself leaning down and picking her up. Her front was plastered to my chest, and her arms flew around my neck, her legs cradling my hips. I knew now she could move them, but I clearly needed to understand her medical issue. For now, that could wait. One of my arms supported her waist and the other moved under her ass.

“I can really just use my chair,” she said. Her breath ghosted against my neck, causing me to tighten my hold. When was the last time I’d been this close to someone? I had fucked women while touching less of their bodies.

“Am I hurting you?” I asked, voice low.

“No.”

“Okay, then.” I walked out of the room, taking her straight to the kitchen. I hesitated before setting her down on the island. The thought of letting her go seemed unacceptable.

I braced my arms on either side of her. “Can you sit here?”

Sofiya’s eyes were wide, but she had stopped crying so I called that a win. She nodded.

“You’re not going to fall off?”

The tiniest smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “I’m not going to fall off.”

I just grunted and opened the fridge. The cold air wafted against me as I stared unseeingly at the shelves. I’d spent my entire childhood learning to keep a tight fist of control over myself and others. This had only intensified when I took over as Don, and it had been years since I truly felt out of control. But here, in my own fucking kitchen with a tiny girl sitting on the counter behind me, something began to unravel inside me.

“Um, do you need help?” The sweet voice behind me held an edge of laughter, and I realized I’d been staring at the inside of the fridge in stony silence for longer than appropriate.

“No.”

Yes. I couldn’t remember the last time I cooked something. Why wasn’t there any prepared food here?

I shut the door. “I will order something. What do you want?”

“I’m not picky.”

I fixed my gaze on her. “You will tell me what you want.”

“Pizza?” she almost squeaked.

“Assimilating to your new Italian life?” I asked, texting Angelo to get us pies from my cousin’s place.

“I like pizza.” She tucked a curl of her hair behind her ear, and I followed the movement. “And I could cook sometime…” She trailed off, a stricken expression on her face as she looked away.

I thought of the cinnamon roll recipe from yesterday morning. Maybe she liked to cook, although I wasn’t sure why that would make her look so upset.

“Why haven’t you eaten anything?” I asked, crossing my arms.

“I didn’t know if I was allowed to,” she whispered.

“Why wouldn’t you be allowed to?”

“You said I should stay in my room, so I just wasn’t sure…”

My brain whirred as I tried to understand what she was saying. When had I told her she couldn’t leave the room? The only conversation we’d had was yesterday morning…

Shit.

Fuck.

I put my phone down on the counter and stood in front of Sofiya.

“Look at me.” There, my voice sounded soft enough. To my confusion, she didn’t do what I said. When was the last time someone had defied me?

I gripped her chin with my thumb and forefinger and tilted her face up. Her skin was so fucking soft.

“I didn’t mean that you couldn’t leave your room.”

“Oh.”

“This is your house now. You can use whatever room you want. And if you want to cook or make cinnamon rolls, you can.”

Sofiya blinked, looking tired and confused. The urge to comfort her overcame me. I dropped my hands and stepped back to prevent myself from doing something ridiculous.

“Sofiya,” I said, a touch of exasperation in my voice, “you’re married to the Don of the Italian Mafia now. That makes you queen. You can’t just let people push you around.”

“You want me to fight against you?” She cocked her head, and an edge of sass entered her voice. Instead of irritating me, my lip twitched as though tempted to smile. I controlled my expression just in time.

“No.” Then I decided to push her a bit to see what response I would get. “You should obey me.”

Irritation flashed over her face, and this time, I couldn’t stop my amused expression. I found I didn’t mind a bit of fire in my new bride. I brought my hand to my face to hide my smile, but the slight widening of her eyes told me she caught it.

I cleared my throat. “You can ask me questions, Sofiya. This might not be a real marriage, but I’m not your jailer.” If we were going to convince the Family this was a real marriage, she couldn’t be afraid of me.

She bit her lip and averted her gaze before nodding. An awkward silence fell over us, and I glanced at my phone, willing the pizza to arrive to save me. Sofiya fidgeted, her legs bouncing against the kitchen island. I stared at them.

“What’s wrong with your legs?”

She froze at my harsh tone. “Oh, um, I have something called hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos.” She dug her fingers into her thighs. I had to physically stop myself from replacing her hands with my own.

“What is that?”

“It’s a connective tissue disorder, so my joints aren’t super stable. My hips and knees are the worst. They can dislocate or do something called subluxing, which is like a partial dislocation. I started using the rollator a couple of years ago, but recently it hasn’t been enough, and I’ve had to use a wheelchair.”

Her voice had quieted until it was almost a whisper, her cheeks turning bright red. In our world, image was power, so it wasn’t surprising that she carried shame. But I found I didn’t care much that this made her vulnerable. Did it really matter when I was here to protect her?

“Is it dangerous?” I got out through gritted teeth.

“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.

“I’ve never had consistent access to medical care, so I’ve just had to piece things together.”

I clenched my jaw, nodding for her to continue.

“I started having issues when I was little. I rolled my ankles all the time and my legs were always banged up from where I’d tripped and fallen. I had horrible growing pains, headaches, and other random symptoms. As I got older, things got worse and I had a series of bad dislocations. I finally convinced my parents I wasn’t making it up. They took me to see several doctors before one finally diagnosed me, but I never saw him again after that.”

Fuck. I wouldn’t have been surprised if Rustik had the doctor killed just for knowing about such a weakness in his family. Sofiya and I had both grown up in top organized crime families, but it was clear our childhoods couldn’t have been more different. My father had been strict with me, rarely showing affection as he prepared me to be the next Don, but I had never doubted his love. I had never doubted that everything he did was for our family’s benefit. Whereas Rustik obviously didn’t give a damn about his daughter.

“What’s the treatment?”

“I don’t think there really is any. I mean, pain medication and heating pads can help, and I think some people do physical therapy. And, of course, the mobility aids. But there’s no cure or anything.”

A knock at the door prevented me from responding. I pulled up the hallway camera on my phone and saw Romeo with our pizza. I opened the door just wide enough to grab it from him.

“What, you’re not going to invite me inside?” he asked with an infuriating smile.

I ignored his question. “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. You know Franco could have found them if they were just hidden.”

This had Rustik all over it. Bastard.

I gave Romeo a curt nod before shutting the door in his face.

I set the pizza down on the kitchen island and grabbed two plates. At least I knew where those were.

“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, and I busied myself by grabbing a few slices of pizza. “Eat your lunch. I have work to do.” I started towards the door but stopped when Sofiya called my name.

“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.

I got her wheelchair, pushing it to the kitchen island. Then I lifted her off the counter and helped her get in.

“Do you need anything else?”

She shook her head. “You have to go?”

“Yes.”

She nodded slowly. “I hope you have a good afternoon.”

Her sweet words followed me as I strode to the door and slammed it shut behind me.

Angelo gave me a nod as I got in the elevator to my office. I had work to do, an empire to oversee, and I couldn’t let anyone get in the way of that.