My Masters' Nightmare Season 1, Episode 4 Poisoned (8 page)

He let go of my
hand and walked
over to Alberto. My eyes widened as Matteo pinched my husband’s
rear. Alberto jolted, resulting in Matteo laughing, his shoulders
shaking with mirth. I looked down at my hand then back at Matteo.
He … he didn’t look gay, but that pinch ... a heterosexual man
wouldn’t have done that.

I watched as Alberto moved away
from Matteo, taking a seat by the old don. Matteo went to sit next
to Alberto, Lucky barking at his son to move. Matteo gave his
father a glare, but instead of arguing he headed to the other side
of the table where his Uncle Nino was sitting. He took the seat
directly opposite Alberto, looking as though he was mentally
undressing my husband, the way he was biting his lip definitely
sexual. I shook my head, stunned that someone was actually
interested in the brute, and someone as delicious as Matteo. I
wondered whether Matteo had been hit over the head harder than
Frano, because he was obviously brain damaged to want Alberto. Nor
did I understand why Alberto was acting so coldly toward him,
because there was definitely more to that pinch than met the... My
eyes widened, knowing in that instant that Alberto had slept with
Lucky’s son, the cold shoulder Alberto was giving him
something
I’d
experienced.

The don started talking. I walked over to
Alberto and placed my hands on his shoulders, the touch repulsing
me, but something he had told me to do. Matteo’s gaze moved to me
for a second, then he looked back at Alberto, the leer that
followed making him look wicked. Alberto touched my hand, probably
to annoy Matteo, because there was a definite lovers’ tiff
happening.

I refrained from yanking my hand away.
“The servants are busy preparing a feast for you all,” I said to
the men, “but while you wait for supper would you like drinks to be
served?”

Alberto waved his free
hand
in the
air. “Of course, bring out our best
vino
.”

I headed for the cellar, retrieving a
bottle of wine from the racks, then went to the kitchen. The cook
and her helper glanced at me as I entered, then resumed working,
only Thierry and the little girl still paying me attention.
Jagger’s brother was huddled in the far corner, filling dessert
dishes, making me wonder whether he’d tried to hide from me. The
little girl was sitting on the floor next to him, hugging his legs
and giggling.

“
I need you to take the wine out
to the men,” I said, walking over to him. I placed the bottle on
the bench, then bent down to detach the little girl from Thierry’s
legs. “Let go, sweetheart.” She did, taking off to her mother, who
shooed her outside.

Thierry
glanced over at the women busy
cooking. “Please don’t make me do this,” he whispered.

“
I don’t have a choice,” I
whispered back. “So, fill the glasses now.”

He stared at me, then jumped as the cook
barked at him, the woman so brusque. “Do as you are told, Thierry!”
she snapped, making me nervous that she could’ve heard
us.

“
Sorry,” he said softly.
He
opened
the fridge next to him and pulled out a tray of ice-cold glasses,
the temperature set to Frano’s standards. He placed the tray on the
bench, then opened a draw and retrieved a bottle opener. After
uncorking the bottle, he poured the red wine into the glasses, his
hands shaking badly. I placed a hand on his as he went to pour a
sixth one. “We only need five,” I said. “And calm down, this is my
doing, not yours.”

He nodded and re-corked the bottle, then
placed it on the bench. “What do I do now?” he asked, looking down
at the glasses.

I glanced over at the cooks, both of them
facing away. Turning my back to them, I pulled out a tiny packet
and tipped it into the glass on the far right-hand side. I then
disposed of the packet in the rubbish bin and pulled out a spoon
from the drawer, giving it a mix. Once done, I tapped the glass,
whispering, “Make sure Alberto is served first.” I leaned closer to
his ear. “It will look like a heart attack. No one will know. We
will get Jagger back, and you won’t have the monster called my
husband touching you ever again.”

Nodding, Thierry
picked up the tray
of glasses, his expression still terrified.

I ran a hand down his
back
,
whispering, “Breathe in, breathe out, you are not doing anything
wrong—I am. Remember, this is by my hand not yours, you have
nothing to feel bad for.”

He nodded again, although he looked as if
he wanted to cry. Without a word, he sidestepped me and headed for
the door. I opened it for him. We walked together to the table,
stopping behind Alberto, who was in a deep conversation with the
don, discussing business matters, something about a shipment of
slaves.

“
Alberto,” Matteo said,
interrupting the conversation. “Will you be visiting our House of
Whores again?”

Alberto’s back stiffened.

“
Son!” Lucky snapped, next to
Alberto. “You are here to observe, not to cause
trouble.”

“
There’s no need to get mad with
me,
I just
wanted to know if Alberto enjoyed his time there,” Matteo said,
turning his angry glare back to Alberto. “Well ... did
you?”

Alberto dropped his gaze.

“
How ironic. Silent now,
but when you were fucking me you couldn’t keep your mouth
shut.”

“
Son!!”

Matteo ignored his father, his
eyes blazing. “Just one warning: If you
ever
call Jagger’s name out again I WILL KILL
HIM!”

A roar went through the room,
coming from the frail don.
“Matteo! LEAVE. NOW!”

Matteo got
to his feet, flinging his chair
back. He pointed at Alberto. “He is my lover, grandfather, and I
will not abide by him coming to my place of work and fawning over
another man!”

The frail don pushed up. “He is NOT your
lover! He is Bianca’s husband, and you don’t disrespect a man in
front of his wife because of your vile jealousies. Go back to the
house now, or you will be packing your bags and leaving for America
tonight! And if you harm Jagger in any way you will have to face
your uncle’s wrath.”

Ma
tteo swore, then stormed toward the
door, the guard following him out.

The frail don turned to me. “I apologize
profusely for my wayward grandson. What he said was horrendous, and
for him to say it in front of you is unforgiveable, so please be
assured that he won’t go unpunished for this.”

“
You have nothing to apologize
for,” I said, “nothing at all. If my husband wishes to take comfort
while I am otherwise occupied, I am not one to judge
him.”

The don’s eyes widened. He
appeared temporally
stunned, then he barked out a laugh, his gaze moving to
Alberto. “How were you so lucky to get such a wonderful woman as a
wife? My Gaby would have made me a eunuch for such an
infraction.”

Alberto laughed, although it sounded
forced. “Luck.”

“
You should take my name then,”
Lucky said, “because right now I am not living up to it. That son
of mine really is going to be the death of me.” He turned to his
side, looking at Thierry who had been standing there stiff during
the argument. Lucky waved at him to come over.

Thierry stood frozen, his face
betraying his terror.

“
Boy,” Lucky said,
“g
ive me a
drink.”

Thierry
moved forward stiffly. He
handed Lucky a glass of wine, then placed a glass in front of the
other men, getting the correct one for Alberto. Lucky swallowed his
down in one go, while the others ignored theirs.

Thierry skittered off, looking as if he
couldn’t wait to get out of there. I concentrated on Alberto,
massaging his tense shoulders. “Have a drink,” I said, “it will
make you feel better.”

“
S
ì
,
listen to your lovely wife,” the don said, picking up his glass.
“Let’s drink to our families’ new alliance.”

Alberto picked up his glass in response,
then put it back down, shaking his head. “I cannot.”

The don put his drink down. “What did
you say?”

“
I’m sorry, don, but
I cannot drink to
this new alliance until you stop your grandson from sexually
harassing me. He threatened my cousin’s life today if I didn’t bed
him. I am
not
that kind of man, and I do
not
want Matteo, and if you wish for this alliance to
continue, you will make sure he is kept away from me and my own.
You will also make sure that your brother ceases torturing Jagger.
When I went to see Jagger today he was not capable of…” he breathed
out, “…he was too damaged to do anything. I understand that
the
Padre
has his needs, but he will have to make sure he doesn’t do
anything to Jagger that requires more than an hour to recover
from.”

“
It is not my place to
tell my brother what to do with the man who mutilated
him.”

“
It
is
your place if you want us to stay allies,
otherwise I will tell the Black Russian about what has happened to
his guards,
and
what your brother is doing to his lover.”

The don’s eyes widened. “What do you
mean: his lover?”

“
Oh, did I fail to tell you that
the blond guard you took is the Black Russian’s lover?” Alberto
smiled at the don’s silence. “Which means: if you don’t want that
crazed lunatic to wipe out your
famiglia
, I suggest you rein in your brother,
otherwise I will be on the phone to him tonight detailing
everything that is happening to his lover.”

“
How
dare you threaten my
famiglia
!” the don yelled.

“
I am not threatening them; I am
protecting my own
famiglia
. And don’t think you can kill me over this, because if I
don’t phone the Black Russian back every night he will descend upon
this island like the plague that he is.”

The don’s face paled, but he nodded,
Alberto’s calculated mind impressing me, but not enough to stave
off my desire to kill him. I patted his shoulder. “Shall I bring
Thierry back to refill the glasses so we can re-toast?”

“
No,” Alberto waved a hand.
“There is no need for a toast, the don and I have an
understanding.” He pushed the wine glass away, making my stomach
drop.

“
You shouldn’t waste such
beautiful wine,” I said, willing myself to stay calm. “So, drink
up.”

Alberto shook his head.
“
After
Matteo’s performance, I want whisky. Get me some.”

Lucky snorted.
“
Whisky over
this fine wine? That is sacrilegious.” The don’s son leaned over
and grabbed Alberto’s glass, making me stiffen. Before I could do
anything, he gulped it down in one go, then placed the glass down
on the table. “It’s such a waste of talent that your
famiglia
doesn’t work
full-time making wine. You are better wine makers than slave
traders, though I am impressed with your bargaining skills,
Alberto, you might just make a good don—just as long as you don’t
go threatening my
famiglia
again, because we are not so weak as to cower to the Black
Russian.”

With my heart pounding, I
watched Lucky closely, the man not reacting to the drink. He
continued talking, telling Alberto that he would sort out his son
as well as the
Padre
for him
.
After several seconds, I moved my gaze to the other
brother. Nino hadn’t drunk his wine yet, his fingers only toying
with the long stem of the glass. My heart started racing faster,
now realizing that Thierry must’ve mixed up the drinks, then a
second later that theory came crashing down as Lucky grabbed his
chest and let out a loud grunt, looking as if he was having a heart
attack. The don screamed for Nino to help his brother. Nino jumped
up, along with Alberto, who pulled Lucky from his chair and laid
him down on the floor.

Lucky’s eyes went round, then he let out a
loud gasp, the man going still a second later, making me want to
cry out that this wasn’t meant to happen! I gripped onto my head as
Nino started performing CPR on his brother. After a few minutes,
Alberto placed a hand on Nino’s back, saying the words that I was
dreading, “He’s dead.”

Nino continued to pump at his
brother’s chest, ignoring
Alberto.

Alberto squeezed his
shoulder.
“He’s dead,” he repeated.

Nino yanked free.
“No!” he yelled,
his face twisted in sorrow. He went back to performing CPR on his
older brother. His father, the don started wailing, calling out
Lucky’s real name, “Marco!”

Alberto placed a finger to
Lucky’s neck. “H
e’s gone.”

Nino stopped and leaned over his brother’s
dead body, his shoulders shaking, his sobs breaking my heart. Lucky
was an evil man, but I had still caused pain where it shouldn’t
have been laid. No one but Frano would’ve grieved over Alberto, but
a whole house would be grieving over the death of Marco “Lucky”
Donatelli.