The Dons Siren

Chapter Twenty-Three

Sofia

"I'm more than capable of moving around by myself. You don't need to keep carrying me." I scolded Matteo who just ignored me as he walked down the stairs of his ridiculous mansion with me in his arms.

"Matteo, I can walk. Please, it's embarrassing."

"You haven't been cleared yet, and I'm not taking any fucking chances of you ripping open your wounds. Until you are cleared by Dr. Artino, you will not be lifting a finger. Understand?"

"No," I muttered.

"Good."

"I can walk on my own," I repeated myself for the hundreth time.

"I said no, Sofia. Now stop fucking arguing with me."

We finally reached the end of the stairs, and I hid my face in his neck to avoid the stares of the men inside along with all the workers he had.

There were so many and every time they saw me I could hear them whispering. They all spoke in Italian so obviously; I didn't understand a thing.

"Capo," Leonardo, his secondhand man, said. "Our guests have been asking about you."

"What guests?" I pulled away from his neck to ask.

"No one important. Occupati di loro, ma ricorda, vivo." (Take care of them, but remember keep them alive)

I rolled my eyes. "I told you to stop speaking in Italian around me."

"Maybe you should just learn it since you're so curious."

"Or maybe you shouldn't keep secrets from me." I countered, and I hated the underlying hostility in both of our voices.

His brows knitted together in confusion. "It's not a secret."

"You said it in Italian. Leonardo speaks English too."

At the mention of his name, Leonardo ducked his head and all but ran away from the foyer, leaving us alone to argue.

"Sofia, stop. If I wanted you to know something then I would tell you."

"So, what? You don't trust me."

"That's not what I said."

"You didn't have to say it. It's written on your face."

He didn't speak or even spare a second glance at me. Instead, choosing to walk down to the kitchen. He set me down on the chair and called out for someone to make him some coffee.

There was every type of breakfast food laid out in front of me, yet I wasn't appetized by any of it. I gazed up at Matteo who was sipping on his coffee, while he read the newspaper. Casual.

As if anything about his life and now my life was casual. I was furious with him. I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to hit him. I wanted to hug him and kiss him as well.

I couldn't even walk away or be alone because Matteo refused to leave me be. Ever since I got home from the hospital two weeks ago, he's coddled me. We haven't spoken about anything.

Not about our last argument. Not about when I was kidnapped. Not about a single fucking thing. I don't know if he was waiting for the doctor to clear me or if he didn't want to bring it up at all.

I wouldn't know. Because again, we don't talk. It was awkward since he was suffocating me.

Whenever the doctor came by to clean my wounds or check on my healing process, Matteo was over his head like a hawk. Watching him and making sure he didn't touch me or hurt me too much.