Chapter 85
MIRABELLA
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When my eyes open the next morning, I find my husband sitting beside me, his lips stretched out into a grin, his face glowing with happiness while he watches me aweâstruck.
I yawn, stretching my limbs with a deep groan while I push myself up so that my back is resting against the headboard.
âGood morning, baby.â Matteo says, his smile growing bigger. âI made you breakfast.â
With a roll of my eyes, I whisper underneath my breath, âof course you did.â
âAre you mad at me?â He asks, his fingers gently moving wild strands of hair off my face and tucking them into the back of my ear. I shake my head. in disagreement. He shifts closer, his thumb stroking my cheek. The action warms my face with a tint of red.
I move to look away from him, but he grasps at my chin, keeping my face forward. âWhen did you start growing so shy, princess, hmm?â He asks, his words drawled. He leans forward, placing a soft kiss on my lips.
âIâm not shy, just flustered.â I whisper my answer, my chest rising and falling with quick breaths.
Matteo drawls a hum, his lips dragging down my neck, âyou donât sayâ¦â His teeth nibble at my skin.
I hoot with laughter, smacking his chest playfully. âYou need to stop, Matteo, we have so many things to take care of today.â
He grumbles underneath his breath, âIâll be quick.â
A scream elicits in my throat when I am swiftly lifted onto his laps. âMatteo!â I laugh, playfully smacking his shoulders.
âYes, mama,â he chuckles, âdo you want me to stop?â
My lips pull apart, wanting to provide him an answer when my stomach rumbles. I bare my teeth, snorting a laugh. âThereâs your answer, big man.â I kiss him on both cheeks.
He heaves a breath, âthe baby must really be hungry.â
âAnd distressed.â I add. âI mean, it wouldnât surprise me, considering everything you did to me last night.â
Matteoâs brows raise into a playful arch. âSo you remember last night, huh?â
âI sure do.â I answer on a sultry tone.
Sighs of satisfaction wracks through both of us at the same time, our lips holding smiles of compassion, gentle love swimming in our orbs. We lean forward and fuse our lips, shaky breaths leaving us. The kiss, although lasting only but a few seconds, is filled with burning passion and love and devotion.
When our lips part, Matteo whispers, âI love you, Mirabella, with all my heart.â
âI love you more, amore mio.â I hush, my arms hugging him tighter. âBut Iâm hungry and we need to go and see my father. I need answers.â
âWhatever you want, love.â
When I walk into my fatherâs holding cell hand in hand with my husband, a
feeling courses through my spine.
The old man, although miserable looking, bruises decorating his face, stares me down with a condescending look, his eyes filled with threats.
âI had a talk with Helen,â I start, trying so hard to keep my voice down, to perhaps give him an opportunity to explain himself.
My father raises a brow, âso? What has that got to do with me?â
âI just want to know why you hate me so much youâre working so hard to see that my marriage breaks apart.â I grit through clenched teeth, anger rising to my chest.
He snorts a laugh, his eyes moving from Matteo to me, âMe?â He points a finger to his chest, shaking his head. âI am the one whoâs working hard to break your marriage apart?â His tone sounds incredulous. âI donât even need to lift a finger in that regard, Mirabella, seeing how husband do a very good job at it.â
you and your
Anger seizes my bones, causing my eyes to form into a vicious narrow. âI have given you so many opportunities to come clean, Marcelo, but youâve chosen your path. Iâll leave you to my husband, Iâm sure he has the best ideas for how to take care of you.â
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My fatherâs lips curve into a smirk, his eyes darkening with anger. âSo what? You came here, all smiles and giggly to prove a point? To show me that you and your husband still have the hots for each other?â
HUN
âThatâs exactly what I came here to do. And also to give an opportunity to redeem yourself.â I shake my head in disappointment. âI guess you do not desire to be redeemed.â
âYou must really think youâre special,â he retorts.
I turn to face him, my eyes squinting into a glare. Matteoâs firm hands massage my shoulders soothingly. âI donât think it, I know it.â
N
âWhy?â My father asks with a tut. âDo you think youâre something special because the Godfather of Italy keeps you under his roof and professes love to you? You think youâre anything special because you have his children and warm his bed?â
âMarceloâ¦â Matteo growls, charging for him, but I grasp his wrists, pulling him back to my corner.
way with
you the
way they
âYouâre nothing!â He roars a laugh. âAbsolutely nothing. If you were anything special, those men wouldnât have had their did. They wouldnât have taken turns in fucking you like a dirty fucking whore. They wouldnât have taken turns in plunging their blades into you while you had their cum dripping from your cunt.â
A sharp breath leaves me, my skin trembling, pain crawling underneath. Tears brim my eyes, threatening to spill. I donât let it.
Iâll not break apart in front of this man anymore.
But my father sees through my struggle and decides to taunting me.
âYou want me to sit here and talk about your mother and how special she was?â A scoff breezes through his parted lips. âShe definitely was no special woman. She was a fucking cheat who brought her loverâs children into my home and made me bear the responsibility of being their father.â Surprise pull my eyes to widen, my heart pounding aggressively against my ribs.
My father rumbles with a mocking laugh. Matteoâs skin tightens underneath my touch and I hold him tighter, keeping him from losing it on my father.
âAre you shocked?â My father asks. âYou think you and Annabella are my biological children? Thatâs fucking ridiculous.â
I thin my lips into a smile, anger evident in my voice when I begin speaking. âYou are a mentally unstable man, Marcelo. And as ashamed as I am to admit this, you are my biological father. Look at us, do you not see the resemblance?â
âThen am I the only man on earth with these features?â He retorts.
âSo youâre saying that my mother had a fetish for men who looked just like you?â A small laughter vibrates in my throat. âYouâre evil. You killed your wife and your daughter, but all you can do is sit there and point fingers?â
âYour sister died of her own choice.â
âWhat?â
âShe was better than you, special. I took care of her, trained her to become something,â he tsks. âBut that ungrateful bitch let her mind be swayed by something as stupid as regret. That is not on me.â
âYou groomed her!â I yell, my voice raging with anger. âYou were sleeping with her! She was carrying your child!â
âWhat a shame that child couldnât make it into this very perfect world.â He comments, seeming reluctant.
âYouâreâ¦youâre unbelievable.â
âI am,â he agrees, immediately shifting his gaze to Matteo. âHas she told you about the confession her little boyfriend made?â
Matteoâs brows pull into a furrow, âwhat confession?â
My father laughs, âdidnât I tell you that the secrets you both keep from one another will ruin you before any one of your numerous enemies has the opportunity to?â
âWhat the fuck are you talking about?!â Matteo roars and I bite down my tongue, my heart beating faster.
âDonât listen to him, Matteo,â I attempt to plead him into calmness, but he doesnât seem to be listening. His curiosity has peaked and nothing can be done until he hears the answers he craves.
So before my father is able to say it, I beat him to it.
âWhen you were unconscious, Ares confessed that he was inâlove with me. This means nothing, Matteo, okay? Itâs in the past, he said he was past those emotions and-â
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11:04 AM
Chapter 85
âAnd youâre telling me now? Because your cunt of a father mentioned it?â
âDonât you trust me?â I ask, holding his hand.
âItâs not about trusting you!â He yells angrily, âitâs about you earning my trust and you seem to be failing woefully at it lately.â
A small gasp escapes from the depth of my throat, a muscle feathering in my jaw. âI apologize.â I say, my voice barely above a whisper, shame clouding my features when my father snickers.
Regret morphs on Matteoâs face and he steps closer, sorting to hold me. I slap his hand away.
âMirabe-â
âDonât.â I grit, quick steps leading me out of the holding cell as the tears at the brim of my eyes make their way down my face.
That man I call my father just needs to go. Permanently.
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