Page 133 of Brutal Revenge

Chapter 42

Matteo

I’m days into what I thought would be worse than a bullet to the head, and somehow, things keep getting better and better.

I didn’t think I’d ever get married, yet here I am, waking up every morning with a heaviness in my chest that isn’t associated with dread, responsibility, or duty.

I’m clueless what to call it, but I’m reasonably sure it has everything to do with Azra—my wife.

I’m obsessed with her. Wholly and without apology. Every day, I find something new to fixate on. Just watching her brush her teeth thickens me below the belt, and when she gives me lip, annoyed that I used her things for anything but their intended purpose, my obsession grows tenfold.

I am reluctant to leave her side, even for a second, but today I have to.

I requested this meeting, so if I don’t show up, my brothers will assume I’m dead, causing trouble, or too lovesick to function.

Only one of those is true.

I’ll leave you to guess which one.

Voices boom out of the games room when I round the corner.Giovanni continually checks his watch. Dante restocks the stationery cupboard as if it isn’t brimming with supplies. Nico is eating something that smells like it died twice, and Elio is studying a surveillance image like he did his first Playboy centerfold—head angled and lips pursed.

They all look up when I walk in.

Giovanni smirks. “Look who finally remembered he has a family and responsibilities.”

“Shut up,” I mutter, taking a seat. “You’ve been eating Valentina’s pussy every day at a minimum of twice a day for seven months straight, but I bet you still whined like a bitch when I called this meeting.”

Dante grins. “Don’t be jealous, Matteo. A healthy appetite is in the Caruso bloodline.”

“Tell me about it.” I rub my hands together but keep my many,manystories to myself.

Azra… our sex life…fuck.Why did I have to remember so soon into the honeymoon phase that I won’t be the man my wife needs if my head never leaves the comfort of her legs?

Not going to lie, my woman is a nymphomaniac. I’m struggling to keep up with her demands, and I love sex as much as I do her eagerness to suck my dick.

“Married lifethatgood?” Nico asks, his tone a little too high for his liking. He sounds like a dweeb who has never had his cock sucked. I know that’s a lie. Back in the day, we shared a girl or two. Even when she was being filled by one of us, she was required to suck the other’s cock.

That’s all done with now. I thought that was the life.

Again and again, Azra continues to prove me wrong.

I don’t answer Nico. I don’t need to. My silence says everything.

Elio whistles. “He’s so fucking gone.”

He’s not wrong, but I didn’t come here to talk about how whipped I am.

I came here to keep my promise to Azra.

“Azra doesn’t believe Antonio’s first wife’s suicide was a case of mental illness. She believes Antonio orchestrated her death.”

The room falls silent before Giovanni breaks it, “Why would she want to marry him if she thought he killed his first wife?”

“Hattie was Azra’s best friend.”

“Hattie?” Dante asks, lost.

“Hatice Bayar.” Elio spins his laptop screen to show him Hattie’s social media profile. “Azra and Hattie grew up together. From what I can see from her social media posts, they’ve known each other since they were two. Azra caught a severe case of influenza just before her second birthday. Since her mother was pregnant, Ada, the ?ahins’ long-term housekeeper, took Azra to her house until she recovered.”