Mariella grew up in the foster care system, abused every day until she found solace in the most unexpected form; Mateo, the son of an Italian mob leader.
Fate brought the two together, but when it tears them apart, how is she supposed to cope? Espe...
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Mateo's POV
Waking up next to Mariella was like waking up next to an angel. It was the type of thing to make you rethink your entire life like, how did I ever go without this feeling? Hell was supposed to be fiery, and red with flames everywhere and the devil fucking you in the ass.
For me, it was a world without her and I would gladly take anal with Satan over missing another second of being in her life.
And those kids. My kids. They had me wrapped around their tiny little fingers. How the hell did I even have kids?
Of all people to be parents, why me? I mean, I'm basically still a child. I have no qualifications whatsoever to be a father to two kids who deserve the world served to them on a silver platter. I don't think a murderer of a father matches up to that.
Mari's hair was splayed across my bare chest, and her beautifully innocent face made me wonder why she was even with me in the first place. She always has been and always will be better than me, even when she was just a teenager with bruises all over and no trust for anyone but the guy smoking behind the school with anger issues.
God, I miss those days. Convincing her to skip school with me and go sit in a park, teasing her about her shy, awkward interactions with our peers and inviting her to stay at my place for a night, though the night always turned into weeks.
I did my best to keep her out of that goddamned townhouse with those pieces of shit. Occasionally she'd get her way, going back to 'keep the peace', as she would say. Keeping the peace always meant coming back with a split lip and huge bruises. Somehow, until we were graduated I couldn't convince her to stop visiting.
She just wanted parental figures to love and acknowledge her, even if it came in the form of fighting.
Those fuckers had been gone for years, and yet she was still fighting. Lately I had noticed that she'd been falling asleep long after I did. I'd wake up in the middle of the night to her hyperventilating and just hold her, although she never seemed to remember in the mornings.
Mariella had been acting perfectly fine, but I saw right through it.
She shot up like a rocket suddenly, interrupting my hand from running through her silky golden hair. Her eyes immediately found mine guiltily, like I'd just caught her snorting cocaine.
Silently, I sat up and held my arms out to her. Being interrogated was probably not what she needed after months of restless nights.
Falling into me, Mari rested her head on my chest. We sat in a tense silence for a few minutes before I finally blew out a breath of air, causing her to look up into my eyes.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
She shook her head, looking down at her lap. Pinching her chin between my index and thumb, I tilt her face back to mine.
