Chapter 087

Matteo's Pov

I sit patiently behind my desk, waiting for when my wife will decide to make the wise decision of beckoning my call.

An hour sweeps by quicker than I expect, and when I am in the middle of putting away the documents I am working on, my office's door creaks open and Mirabella peeks her head through.

A smile attempts to stretch at my lips when her eyes meet mine, but I bite down the inside of my cheek to hold it down.

I get off my seat and round my desk, settling my ass on the edge of the center. "Come here," I flick two fingers at my wife, my tone commanding.

She gives her eyes a roll. "You don't get to make demands, Matteo."

A humorless chuckle escapes from underneath my breath. "If I have to ask again, dear wife, you wouldn't appreciate how quickly this escalates."

Mirabella is skeptical at first, but soon after, slow steps start moving her towards me. She heaves a breath and stops walking when she's at a close proximity with me.

"Closer," I whisper.

She takes two short, insignificant steps forward.

"Closer, Mirabella," my voice thickens with anger. And when she starts to tease me again, my hand circles her throat, pulling her between my legs with a force that draws a sharp gaspe out of her throat.

For a few seconds, we do nothing but stare at one another through heated eyes. She goes to struggle, my grip on her tightens, my teeth grinding.

"I'm highly upset, Mirabella." I breathe.

Her brows jerk up, her mismatched orbs blinking innocently at me.

"W-why?" She chokes, her hand grasping at my wrist as a way of pleading that I loosen my hold around her neck.

I don't heed.

"Why?" I repeat, my tone malicious. "You kept something as important as your friend confessing his feelings away from me. How about that?"

"You've said it yourself, he's just a friend."

A gasp elicits in her throat when I jerk her closer, pulling her face closer to mine.

"Friends?" I chuckle underneath my breath. "There's nothing friendly about your relationship with Ares and you know it."

"Matteo. . ."

"Did you fuck him?" I growl in her face, my eyes tightening.

Mirabella's eyes widen as she chokes a, "w-what?"

"We were apart for five years, Mirabella, and he was the only trustworthy man around you. So, did you fuck him? Did you reward him with your pussy for being such a loyal friend?" My tone is colder than expected.

"How fucking dare you?!" She yells, her hand jerking up and meeting my cheek in a slap. My grip around her neck loosens completely. "How dare you insult me by comparing me to a whore?"

"I never-"

"Shut the fuck up, you bloody asshole!" She yells in my face. "Ares. . . that man. . ." She heaves a shaky breath, "that man is the best thing to ever happen to me. And right now, in this moment, I'm seriously wishing he's the one I'm married to and not you."

My brows deepen into a frown. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It simply means that he'd never insult me!" She seethes.

I mimic a laugh-a humorless one. "I never insulted you, I only asked a simple question. But the fact that you're wishing him to be your husband instead answers my question perfectly."

She groans, "you've got to be kidding me."

"Well what do you want me to say!" I retort with a scream.

Silence.

For long minutes, silence takes over the space. Mirabella looks away from me, her breathing turning into sharp heaves as she cradles her stomach with one hand and with the other, she wipes her face.

And when she looks back at me, my heart thunders with regret. I move forward, intending to hold her. She jerks away from me.

Through her sniffles, she says, "what I want you to do is trust me and trust that Ares is just a friend."

My hard tone softens when I whisper her name. "Mirabella. . ."

"No," she shakes her head. "I did not fuck him. And I've never thought about fucking him. There's your answer."

She turns, intending to walk away but I grasp at her wrist, pulling her back. Her back collided with my chest and I immediately wrap my arms around her.

She struggles with me, yelling for me to let her go. I don't. I hold onto her until her resolve weakens and she melts into me.

"I'm sorry," I whisper into her hair, kissing it softly.

"Don't say that to me anymore if you don't intend to tame your wild fucking tongue!" She fumes.

"I am sorry. . ." My voice drops to a lower frequency, my eyes holding plea, and yet, my wife is still feral.

"Stop it, Matteo." She grits.

"I was angry," I breathe.

She shakes her head, "and I don't give a fuck."

"And jealous." I add.

She draws her head back, a scoff breezing through her parted mouth.

"Jealous?" She asks, incredulous. "Jealous of what?"

I breathe shakily. "Of what you have with him. It feels different from what we have."

"Because it's different!" She yells. "It's different, because you're my husband and the man I love and the man I cohabit with and the man I give access to my body and my heart and my soul. It's different because you're my family and the father of my children. It's different because I chose you, because I am here with you and not him."

Tears pool from her eyes. She wipes them aggressively.

I bring her closer to me, "I'm sorry, baby."

"You always say that." She counters, her lips curving downwards.

"But you know I'm sorry. I do trust you, Mirabella, but like I said, I cannot deny the fact that I feel threatened by your relationship with your so-called best friend."

She breathes a sigh, "and like I said, Matteo, I love you, and I'm married to you, and I have your kids, there's absolutely nothing to be jealous of here."

"I know. . . I know," I say on a whisper, groaning. "God, I'm such a fool. I'm sorry baby. . . I am happy, sated with you. I love my life with you. So please forgive me for making very careless assumptions, okay?"

She nods, "okay."

"Good." I affirm.

"Good." She replies.

A mischievous smile curves my lips.

"Now, your punishment."