Mafia's Final Play (Mafia's Obsession #3) - Summer Cooper Page 0,19

belonged to her.

He bent his head to inhale the scent left behind by her shampoo. It was always something that smelled of apples. He loved it, he loved her.

Fuck. He was in trouble in a way he’d never thought possible. Despite his shock at the realization, he stayed close to her. Another sign of just how deeply he was in love with her. He’d never needed to hold anyone before, not like he did Marie. For now, he was comfortable admitting it to himself. Maybe one day he’d tell her, but not now. Not when he needed to stay focused.

Maybe when this was all done, he’d take her somewhere nice, on a warm vacation to the tropics perhaps, and tell her exactly how he felt. Until then, he’d just hold her, keep her safe, and make sure his heart didn’t get trampled. As long as he was the only one that knew how much he loved her, his heart was safe, locked inside the cage of his chest where it belonged. One day, when he could, he’d tell her.

7

Marie pushed her hand under her pillow and felt her body relax as she absorbed the cool sensation between the sheet and the pillowcase. Why was that so soothing, she wondered but was soon distracted when Matteo slid in beside of her. They’d spent the day hauling wood into the house, for the two fireplaces downstairs and the one in their bedroom.

It had been a long job, one that Matteo insisted on doing alone, but she’d put her foot down, literally. She’d stomped her foot she was so mad when he told her he didn’t need any help. She smiled at the memory now, at the way he’d laughed before he’d given in and let her come out.

In truth, she’d felt tired and wanted to curl up on the couch and read a book, but it was an opportunity to go outside, so she’d helped him. He’d put his own foot down when she tried to help him carry wood upstairs and had reminded her that she’d had a major surgery not that long ago. She needed to be careful.

She hadn’t wanted to admit it, but she was even more tired by then. She’d felt like her arms were about to detach from her body and her feet were frozen solid, she was sure of it, so arguing was pointless. She’d gone into the kitchen, put on a pot of coffee, and waited for him to finish before she made them both a cup and took the mugs into the living room.

It had been a nice day, despite the work, or maybe because of it. She’d had a nap after lunch, and they’d made dinner together. Those were the only times she saw Anton, at their meals; otherwise, he stayed up there in the attic, keeping watch. He had come down long enough to install cameras on each side of the house before he’d gone back up to watch everything on the television up there. Surely, he must be bored up there? But he didn’t complain, he only came down, answered Matteo’s questions, ate, then went back upstairs.

Now, she was in bed with her husband and the night was eerily dark. She’d explored the house, although bedrooms and a study weren’t that interesting. She’d also found some old books, both fiction and nonfiction, that looked promising. Exhaustion pulled at her, made her yawn as Matteo pulled her close to his warmth. He was like a radiator and she snuggled close to absorb some of his heat.

There was still a chill in the air, even with the fireplace roaring at the other end of the room. A cast-iron screen protected them from sparks or stray pops of overheated wood. The sound of the fire crackling at their feet was kind of soothing.

“We never had a proper fire in our house in Louisiana. There were fireplaces in the bedrooms upstairs, but we never used them. I think because Momma had no idea how to light one.”

She was talking now so she wouldn’t think. Throughout the day the tremble in her pinky finger had come back time and time again. Her arm had twisted with each tremble, something new that utterly terrified her. That, along with everything else, had her in a quiet but panicked mess that she didn’t want to talk about.

Her mother’s illness had been masked for years by her drinking problem. Everything that had gone wrong with her, the slurred speech, the