Scorned Heir: Chapter 32

I walked into the kitchen and stopped.

Matteo’s broad back was hunched over the stovetop sautéing a mix of greens and reds, but I smelled onion and garlic and my mouth watered. He had on an athletic shirt over gray sweatpants and his favorite high-top sneakers.

“Didn’t expect you home,” I said.

He glanced at me and flashed me his megawatt smile. “Oh, hi, baby. I decided the office could do without me. It’s a Friday night after all. How did it go at St. Catherine’s?”

“It went well.” I peeled off my jacket and went to the fridge to get a bottled water.

“I hope you don’t mind a healthy dinner tonight,” he said to the pan. “The pot roast last night made me feel heavy today.”

A whiff of alarm snaked up my spine. “Are you all right? Do you feel nauseous?”

“I’m fine.” He winked at me. “Thanks for asking.”

Matteo had been acting strange ever since that day Renz sent him the invoice of the first two days we’d spent at St. Catherine’s. We provided artisanal sandwiches or bread to the soup kitchen twice a week, Mondays and Fridays. I expected my husband to confront me that night, but his broodiness seemed to disappear and he’d been smiling at dinner that evening with his parents.

That was two nights ago.

When I tried to pry information out of Renz, he refused to reveal what the brothers discussed.

I knew Cesar and Ava were catching a premier of a new movie tonight, so I hurried home in hopes I could beat my husband back to the house and in the kitchen to grab what I needed and hide in my room. It was a bit immature, but it hadn’t been two weeks since I discovered his subterfuge, so I felt justified in making him stew in his sins.

I’d done my duty of inquiring after his health this morning, and since obviously he just returned from the gym, he was okay.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll just…”

He turned to me. “Sit.”

I didn’t care for his tone at all. “Excuse me?”

“I do not excuse you. This has gone on long enough and we’re going to discuss our marriage like adults.”

A steeliness sharpened his voice to a honed edge and it cut right through me, so I parried, “I don’t know what you have to say that would change the fact that you married me under false pretenses.”

“You know what? I’m getting tired of hearing that excuse of yours just to avoid talking to me.” He pointed at the barstool behind the kitchen counter. “We’re not getting formal with this. So sit down.

“I don’t have lobster,” he added. “I have broiled chicken breast which should be about…dammit.” Smoke billowed out of the oven and he turned the kitchen exhaust to high before it reached the smoke detectors.

I sat on the barstool and poured myself a glass of wine from a bottle that was already uncorked. I whipped out my phone. “Should I order pizza?”

He glared at me.

I burst out laughing.

I checked the app for Neapolitan pizza. I was in the mood for it for sure and it went with the wine.

Matteo dumped the charcoaled chicken into the trash. “There goes lunch tomorrow too.”

“You’re really going for this healthy food after being on a bland diet so long?”

“Nico told me I needed clean food to gain back muscle mass.”

“It hasn’t even been a month, Matteo. You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.”

His head whipped to mine and I could have kicked myself. It wasn’t the words, but the tone. And I couldn’t help it. I really cared for the bastard. I’d admit to even still loving him.

I allowed myself to peek into the jumbled emotions leaving scars holding my heart together. It still hurt like hell.

My eyes teared up before I could stop myself.

His face looked stricken.

“Baby…”

“Don’t.” I held up a hand.

“I’m really sorry for not being honest with you.”

I grabbed a paper towel from the holder. “It’s just that…I don’t know if I can trust myself or my emotions for you.”

“Are you crying because you love me?” he asked.

At first I was outraged that he expected me to love him after what he had done, but then the look in his eyes knocked me over…figuratively.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I whispered.

He came closer, dragged the other barstool close to me, and sat face to face. “Like I love you?”

“Matteo.”

“Because I do, baby. I’m madly, helplessly, and totally in love with you.”

“Why do you do this?” I shrieked at him. I tried to slide off the stool but he somehow caged me in with his legs and with his arms gripping the backrest of my chair.

“Let me go.”

“No.”

“Matteo.”

“You love me too,” he insisted. He grabbed my hands and put them over his chest. “What I feel for you is real.” Then he transferred our hands to my chest.

His eyes closed. “Your heart beats for me.”

“That’s very romantic.” I yanked my hands from his, my practiced mantra of resisting Matteo repeating in my head. “But I’m not that gullible.”

His eyes opened, the determination in them unmistakable. “I know you’re not.”

“If what we indeed feel is love, it’s not going to last because we built it on a messy foundation.”

“Agreed.” He stated calmly, staring at me for a long time, which made me nervous and confused. He rose to his full height and strode to the corner counter where he extracted a folder.

Anxiety curdled my insides. Matteo wasn’t smiling anymore. The playfulness of earlier was gone. This was his business face.

I took a nervous sip of wine for internal fortitude. “What’s that?”

He laid the folder on the countertop and he flicked it open.

My stomach dropped when I made out the words. “Divorce papers? You’re giving up?”

“Me?” he growled. “You’re the one who’s freezing me out and insisting on sleeping in another room. Not to mention you rigged the locks so I couldn’t enter.”

“All I asked for was space to think about this. It hasn’t been two weeks and you jump straight into divorce?” I was so angry I could spit. No. I was hurt as hell and my chest felt like it was caving in. “Where’s the pen? Should I sign it?”

“You’re not going to read it?”

“What’s the use when apparently you’re a man who gives up easily. I don’t want you!”

“Read the fucking words, Sera,” he growled.

I blinked back the tears and focused on the document. I blinked again, not quite comprehending the strange condition on the document. “Why the hell can’t I date another man for six months?”

“Try never,” he snapped.

I flipped the folder closed and glared at him. “Then what is this? Just another form to control me?”

He scrubbed a hand over his face in a gesture of frustration. Well, boohoo, I was more than frustrated. I was hurt, I was humiliated, I was furious enough to shred the divorce papers and throw them at his face.

He leaned in. “Understand this, wife.” His voice was sharp, like a razor’s edge. “The divorce gives us a clean slate. I want a do-over.”

I reared back. “Explain.”

“I want a do-over to a time before we said our vows. That’s the fucking issue, isn’t it?” he said. “Any time before we said our vows is re-workable. We just didn’t get a chance to know each other enough.”

“I have nothing else to hide from you,” I said. “You’re the one who hid things from me. I was an open book.”

“You were.”

“Are you saying you’re willing to share what you were unwilling to tell me before?”

“I am.”

I studied his face. “Renz said he talked to you.”

“He did.” His face relaxed a bit. “It was high time we talked about that shit. But Dad made a good point.”

I cocked my head, not sure where he was going with this.

He brushed my cheek with the back of his hand and I wanted to lean into it. The rest of my body was crying for his touch, even my battered heart, but the core of my survival that lived in my brain cautioned me to tread carefully. I listened blindly to my heart before, disregarding all the warning signs. High on that emotion was affection that turned to love with a whole physical manifestation of lust.

“He said I wouldn’t fully understand Renz until I found someone I love as much as he did.”

Words. They were just words. But I’d be lying to myself if I denied I couldn’t see it in his eyes. Matteo was an open book. I’d seen enough of his shifting emotions to tell that his eyes were etched in desperation, hope, and love.

“And have you?”

He smiled in a way that melted the icy fortress surrounding my heart, but the hurt was still too deep to fold and give over easily no matter how much I craved his comfort.

“Baby,” he said. “If you doubted our feelings before our vows, you won’t be when I’m done. I’m going to ask you to marry me again.”

I wasn’t sure if I was irritated or awed at his arrogance. I went for a combination. “That’s very egotistical of you.”

Of course he had to use that chuckle that made me weak in the knees.

“I don’t want to drag out this uncertainty between us, Sera. I don’t want you to endlessly mull over what I did for weeks.”

“It doesn’t automatically erase it.”

“I know it doesn’t, but this divorce just shows you how desperate I am when all I want to do is take you back in my arms, in my bed…and it’s not about the sex…”

I raised a brow.

“Of course that too. I miss the taste of your pussy on my tongue and its grip on my cock. Jesus…” he groaned. “Don’t make me hard when all I want to do is bury my face between your thighs.”

“I’m not doing anything. You’re doing it to yourself.”

His smiled briefly, a hint of self-derision in it. “True.” Then he surprised me by getting down on his knees.

“What are you doing? Are you begging me to divorce you?”

“Say yes.” He glanced up at me, intensity in his eyes. “Say yes so I can ask you to marry me again. Say yes so I can show you how much you mean to me without a shadow of doubt. If I thought this would have ended up in you questioning what we shared back in Maine, I would have told you, baby.” He gripped my knees together. “Let me prove that what we have is worth fighting for.”

“I need to tell Luca.”

His hands tightened around my knees. “I’d prefer it if we keep this between us.”

“It’s more complicated than that, Matteo. If you divorce me, I’m his responsibility again.”

He was already shaking his head. “That’s not true. If you read the divorce legalese, you will remain under De Lucci protection.”

“How is that your decision?”

He rose and towered over me. This time bracing his hands on either side of me and locking me to the chair. “Any wife of mine, ex or otherwise, will be my responsibility.”

That was a stab to the heart. My nonno had three wives. Could I stand to see Matteo with another?

“Since my wife and my ex are the same woman.” This time a smile curved his mouth as though he liked what he saw on my face. Damn him. I couldn’t even hide my jealousy of a nonexistent woman, could I?

“I want to give you the wedding you deserve,” he said. “And the honeymoon where I can have you all to myself. No family. No mobsters. Just us. Maybe I should start looking for an island getaway.”

Hold strong, Sera. He was doing a full-court press. A divorce made sense, but still.

“I need to go over this.” I pushed the folder aside. “You’re trying to fast-track my forgiveness for your deception.” My chin tilted up. “I don’t think you’ve been penalized enough yet.”

“Ten days without you in my bed, knowing you’re just across the hall from me, is not suffering enough?”

“I’m still here. I haven’t abandoned our vows. I just want to wallow in the mess we’ve found ourselves in so I’m not likely to make the same mistake.”

“I’ve learned my lesson.”

“See, you haven’t,” I retorted. “This is not about you. This is about me deciding when I’m ready to forgive you.”

He winced when he realized he walked into a wall he’d set up himself. Matteo needed to learn humility. To empathize with others and not try to bully it over everyone.

The doorbell rang.

The pizza was here.

A pivotal moment was on the horizon, but I wasn’t ready to walk into it yet.

Matteo

“Tell me why I’m here with you again?” Nico didn’t question me this morning when I told him we needed to drop food from Jabbin’ Java at St. Catherine’s. He thought we were heading into the office afterward for the board meeting. He helped me carry the loaves from the back of the SUV into the church’s kitchen in preparation for the wave of homeless.

“Because simply writing a check is the coward’s way out,” I told him. “This is important to Sera and Renz. Giving our time would show how much we support them with what they are doing.”

“Got it,” he replied. The expression on his face told me he wanted to say something more, maybe along the lines of I was the one who fucked up with Sera, but there was no point in rehashing that because I had taken full responsibility.

Our youngest brother had worked out details with the chef and nutritionist of the St. Catherine’s soup kitchen so they could bump up the service from just once a week to twice. I asked Renz if he could manage an extra day. I would have told him to make it five, but he was at capacity at the bakery. He did tell me he had contacts in the industry who we could work with. It had taken the breakdown of my relationship with Sera to see my youngest brother for the admirable entrepreneur he was. For so long, I only saw numbers and spreadsheets, not the people behind the company and land we were developing or selling. I thought I had compassion, but this was on a different level. We were born with the proverbial silver spoon, yet Renz turned up his nose at it and accomplished something for himself.

Sister Agnes recognized me when Nico and I entered the building. She smiled and gestured for us to follow her. “Your brother and wife were here the other day. I cannot thank you both enough for the generous donation and the time.”

“It’s our pleasure, ma’am.” My heart clenched at the word wife. It had been five days since I asked Sera for a divorce, but she hadn’t said anything yet nor had she signed the papers. Each day she stewed over the documents, was one more day I got antsier. I guess I deserved this torture. But I wasn’t waiting to prove to her that I was in this for the long haul. That she meant everything to me. I had my own shit to figure out so I could be worthy of her.

We met the kitchen staff and the chef who put Nico and me immediately to work. We had passable knife skills and prep work was tedious, but they needed all the help to feed an expected two hundred people. It was double the amount Sera and I had served together in this very same venue.

After our kitchen duties, Nico and I were sent to assist with packaging the food. I was scooping mixed vegetables into a Styrofoam container when I felt her. I glanced up.

Sera stood at the entrance and she was staring at me.

“I’ll be right back,” I told Nico.

My brother mumbled something, but I ignored him. All my focus was on my wife who had turned around and walked out of the building.

I hurried after her, thinking she would leave, but she just stood right outside the steps of St. Catherine’s.

I spotted Trevor and two other Arrows who were her bodyguards. Sera must’ve hated the added security, but Dom told me Santino had been going after supporters of Vincenzo and they couldn’t reach Gustavo. Luca had already called me and offered his soldiers.

“How did you know I was here?” I asked.

“Jonas. I went to your office.”

“Oh, was there something you needed?”

“What are you doing here, Matteo?”

I looked at Trevor. He tossed me the key to the Patrol I spotted parked on the street. I grabbed her elbow and guided her to the vehicle, not answering her until we got inside it.

She wasn’t pleased. I would even say she was irritated at me.

“What are you doing here?” she repeated her question while crossing her arms and leaning against her side.

I wasn’t sure what was pissing her off. “I thought it was obvious. I’m helping out.”

“They don’t have Thursdays. I was surprised when Jonas told me you were here.” Her face turned from pissed off to conflicted. “I don’t know what to think.”

“I’m not doing this to score points with you,” I told her. “This has nothing to do with what you feel about me. I’m not doing this so you will forgive me.”

“Then I don’t understand.”

“I’m doing this because it’s important to you. It’s important to Renz. It’s important to the people I love,” I said. “I wanted to support you but not in a way to manipulate you.” I looked back at the church. “Not like this at least. This is more for me. For understanding you and my youngest brother.”

“Oh, Matteo.” This time all suspicions fled from her face and I had the strongest desire to kiss her. I didn’t want to see conflict on her face. I wanted to see acceptance, to finally see me as someone who would love every part of her. Coming here to the charity and doing this was really for me. I didn’t want her to dissect my intention.

This reminded me of something I did want to do for her. “Now, that’s not saying I don’t want to score positive points in some other way.” At her dubious expression, I smirked while I reached into my pocket. I extracted her St. Rita bracelet I had kept.

She gasped. “I lost that. I didn’t know when.” I didn’t know how much I was in a deep freeze of misery until I saw the glow of happiness on her face. Still, I needed to tread carefully. I intended to win the long game.

“I found it in our closet the day you moved out of the room.” She offered me her wrist and I obliged by clasping the bracelet around it. “They had to change the chain, but the coin is the same.”

“That’s fine,” she whispered, her gaze on her wrist as she twisted the bracelet around. She smiled at me. “Thank you.”

The initial happiness on her face slowly morphed into sadness and regret.

My chest tightened when I saw tears forming in her eyes. “Was there a reason you came to the office?”

Exhaling heavily, she reached behind our seats and brought into view a folder.

The folder that held our divorce papers.

I swallowed. “You signed it.”

“That’s what you wanted, right?” she said, gravel scratching her voice. Then her face crumpled. “This is so fucked up.”

Her fingers were white against the folder.

Emotion pressed up my throat. It was easier at that time I told her, but getting a glimpse of the old Sera was a royal mind fuck that maybe I was too rash in suggesting divorce and should have waited her out.

You fucked up, De Lucci, you’re going to see this through.

“Baby…” I rasped and reached for the folder.

Her eyes met mine, the well of tears finally falling down her cheeks. “Are we doing the right thing?”

“Are you past what I did?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Then we’re doing the right thing.”

“Damn you for suggesting it.”

I chuckled in self-deprecation. “I’m already damned in hell, baby, burning every night you’re not beside me.”

She let go of the folder and swiped the tears from her cheeks. “You say the sweetest things at the wrong time.”

I tipped her chin up. “We’ll get there.” I hated seeing the doubt in her eyes and this firmed up my resolve that I was doing the right thing. She would believe and trust in me and there would be no resistance when I asked her to marry me again.