Page 38

MATTEO

M aria is wrapped in the sheets beside me, her breathing soft, steady.

One of her hands rests near my chest, fingers slightly curled, as if even in sleep, she’s reaching for me.

I kiss the top of her head, and she stirs a little and moves in to capture more of my warmth.

She sighs and settles back into her sleep.

After the debrief, I took her to our room and lay beside her until sleep finally took over. I held her while she stared at the windows that looked out to the skyline. She didn’t speak. She didn’t cry. She just allowed me to hold her.

She is struggling. I know that much. She trusted this woman, and I believe, to some extent, she was friends with Emily. It hurts to feel so betrayed by someone, to have them come into your life and then try to tear it all apart.

My blood seethes again as I think of the lengths Giacomo has gone to. He’s the one who sent her—Emily. The woman I’ve known for years—the one Beatrice trusted and hired—is the one who did this. Not only did she kill Beatrice, but she tried to kill Maria.

There will be hell to pay for what she did.

I am livid. How could I have been so blind?

The conversation from earlier replays in my mind, vivid and sharp as a blade. I had stormed into the study, and Dario and Valerio were already there, grim-faced, waiting.

I had barely stepped two feet into the room when Dario grabbed me by the collar.

I remove his hand and shove him away. “Watch it, Dario. You’re here because I let you be.”

Dario has always been a hothead. “How the fuck do you let this happen? The help? Really, Matteo? You used to be more vigilant than this.”

“Do you think that I don’t know? This caught me off guard, but make no mistake—I will have her head on a silver platter.”

“Not before I feed her to my dogs. The bitch pulled a knife on my wife. Someone will have to answer for that.” Dario is fuming, and for good reason.

His wife was also caught in the crossfire.

“First, you have your Giacomo mess, and now this? What the fuck is going on in your life, Davacalli? Were they working together?”

“It can be assumed so,” Valerio speaks up for the first time. “We went to her apartment, and we found some wire transfers on her computer from Giacomo.”

The rage scorched my muscles. I feel it take over every inch of my body. I feel like I am seconds away from exploding, so much so that I feel the steam coming out of my ears.

“Beatrice…” Her name leaves my lips, and I go still.

Valerio looks at me solemnly. “He planned her death, Matteo. Everything seems to point to that. It all makes sense. He said he was going to take everything from you that you took from him. Beatrice and—” He cuts himself off before he can say my son’s name.

Dario clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “I know that he’s not your son. Talk.”

“What? How?” Valerio looks at Dario suspiciously.

“After you warned me about Giacomo and what he is peddling in the streets, I decided to do my due diligence. I uncovered a lot of shit that you all tried to keep hidden—like the fact that Beatrice was sold to Gia and you saved her from the abusive bastard and married her to place her under your protection.”

“Well shit, can no one keep a secret these days?” Valerio throws his arms up dramatically. “I don’t need to remind you that what you just said is extremely private information that should not be divulged to anyone, including your wife.”

“She already knows; in fact, she is the one who made the deduction when she saw Giacomo at the gala. She said that you look nothing like your only heir, while Daniele carries very similar features to Giacomo and your wife.” Dario looks at me like it’s the most obvious deduction.

To be fair, he isn’t wrong. “The only question that remains right now is what the fuck are we going to do about this?”

“We?” I cross my arms over my chest.

“You are out of your depths here. Giacomo is unhinged and on a rampage for revenge. Now, with my wife taking a liking to yours; that means I have a vested interest in this because if your wife dies, mine will be sad, and I hate when my wife is sad.”

I blink. “Charming.”

Dario steps toward me, the tension in the room as thick as tar. “Look, Giacomo came after my wife today. I don’t take lightly to her life being in danger, and I will make sure that he pays for what he did.”

The silence stretches on. Neither Dario nor I blink as we stare each other down. We’ve never needed friendship to understand each other—but he’s one of the few men I respect in this world.

“To war?” I hold my hand out to him.

He takes mine into his with a smirk playing on his lips. “To war.”

The memory slips away, and I’m back in our room—back beside her.

But before the anger pushes me too far, I take one last look at the woman sleeping beside me.

Beatrice, my son, and now my wife. It has gone on for too long. Giacomo has taken things too far, and he will answer for this.

I have always been a cool and collected man, but right now, my mind is moving on pure instinct.

That is the only thing on my mind. I don’t know exactly what my plan is, but I do know that it involves causing pain to Giacomo in some way, shape, or form.

I finally remove myself from under my wife. I can’t stay when my blood is bubbling the way that it is. I have a thirst for blood—his blood—and my gun has been itching to be shot.

Carefully, I shift away, peeling her fingers from my skin one by one. She stirs slightly, murmuring something incoherent under her breath. Her features contort into a frown before they smooth, and she is back to sleeping peacefully.

I push back the covers and rise from the bed, moving through the room until I am at the door. I glance back one last time. She looks so peaceful in that bed, and I would do anything to not see her in pain the way she was when those elevator doors opened.

I tighten my jaw and force myself to step into the hallway, shutting the door softly behind me.

Two of my men are already standing post outside the bedroom. Tony is running point with Valerio. I need both of my finest at the forefront of this job. Their backs straighten as I approach, their hands hovering near their weapons.

“At ease. No one gets in or out,” I say quietly. “Not until I return. And if anyone tries to force their way in, shoot first.”

They exchange a quick look but don’t question me. They have one task and one task alone—keep my wife safe.

Satisfied, I pull out my phone as I make my way downstairs, dialing Valerio. If I am going to do what I’m about to do, I need to at least alert my second just in case I don’t make it back alive.

He picks up immediately. “Matteo?”

“I’m going to Giacomo’s club.” There is no need for pleasantries at 1:00 a.m.

He is quiet for a moment. I think that maybe he hung up. Then I hear some rustling before he speaks again. “Are you out of your goddamn mind? Are you high right now?”

“I need to do this. Emily likely reported back what she did, which means he likely expects me to try something tonight. He has been goading me into making a move for weeks now—well, here it is.”

“Matteo, we spoke about this with Dario. We need to wait for the most opportune time. You can’t just decide that you want to go rogue all of a sudden. We stick to the plan.” Valerio is in a bit of a panic. “Fucking hell, don’t let your heart make you reckless.”

He is trying to be the voice of reason, and maybe that’s why I called him. Maybe I want someone with logic to talk me out of this. The only problem is that my anger is louder than my logic. I won’t be satisfied until he is bleeding at my feet.

“I will be at his club downtown. He won’t kill me, I know he won’t. This isn’t about killing me; if he wanted to do that, he would have pulled the trigger. This is about making me suffer the way he believes I made him suffer.”

Valerio curses under his breath. “Boss, listen to me?—”

I hang up before he can say anything else. I already know this is reckless. But that doesn’t matter. He’s been waiting for me to break, to blink first. Well, here I am, motherfucker. Staring you down.

I storm out my door and make sure my gun is loaded. If tonight is the night I end it, then so be it. My phone buzzes in my pocket, but I ignore it. Valerio knows where I will be, and he will come. I know he will.

I drive for twenty minutes, moving through the streets of New York like a man possessed. I park my Range Rover right out front, and when the guards see me, they aren’t moved by my presence.

Of course not. He is expecting me. Normally, they would have jumped me at first sight. This is enemy territory, after all, and their motto is shoot to kill.

I walk to the door, and the bouncers don’t even bat an eye. They open the door for me and let me in. They’re not stupid—they know who I am.

The gentleman’s club is exactly what I expected—loud, dimly lit, and a knock-off version of The Vortex. Pitiful. The man has the originality of a brain-dead vegetable. The scent of sex and whiskey clings to the air, masking the stench of blood and sweat beneath it.

As soon as I step inside, every set of eyes in the room snaps to me, a ripple of tension spreading through the space. Some recognize me instantly. Others glance toward the VIP section at the back, where Giacomo sits pretty, surrounded by half-naked women moving their bodies sensually to the music.

Giacomo raises his whiskey glass in the air and beckons me over. That little shit. The metal of the gun digs into my skin. I have an itch to reach for it, but not yet.

I walk straight toward the man I came for.

Giacomo sits at the head of a long, private booth, a cigar burning between his fingers.

“Matteo,” he drawls, exhaling a stream of smoke. “Right on time.”

I don’t speak. I don’t even fully think. I simply swing.

My fist crashes into his jaw with enough force to send him sprawling across the booth. His cigar tumbles to the floor, landing in a pile of spilled whiskey.