Page 51 of Shadows of Steel

My gaze sharpens as I take them in.

They know each other.

How?

Does she attend the university? Have their paths crossed before? The questions churn, unwelcome and unanswered, a disruption I refuse to tolerate. I need clarity. I need control. And I’ll be damned if I let this slip through my fingers. Even as she turns away, engaging with the other two women, his attention persists. Watching her every movement.

Then, as if snapping himself out of it, he shifts his focus back to me. “You seem tense, zio.” He murmurs, his voice low enough for only me to hear.

Because he fucking can’t help himself, he leans in and adds. “Envious that Harlow belonged to me first?” The air between us tightens like a noose. The insult is intentional. When I finally speak, my voice is deadly.

“You want to test me tonight, Leonardo?” My stare doesn’t waver. “Go ahead. See how that plays out.”

My voice drops lower, the threat settling between us. “Say those words again, and I don’t care that we share blood, I’ll fucking end you.”

Leonardo exhales, before shaking his head with mock disappointment. The faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, the glint of satisfaction in his eyes. This is exactly what he wanted. “Relax, zio,” he drawls, his amusement unmistakable. “I’m only here to celebrate your big day.”

His hand lands on my shoulder. But before I can knock it away, he’s already pulling back, disappearing into the crowd, his presence slipping away like smoke.I shift my attention back to Harlow. The women nowhere to be seen. She’s alone now, watching me. Her eyes assessing and enigmatic, before she turns back toward the gathering.

By the time the cake cutting approaches, I’m so fucking ready for this farce to be over. The night has dragged, filled with men approaching me, talking business, fishing for openopportunities. Every handshake, every offer, every thinly veiled attempt at aligning themselves with me has worn my patience raw. If one more fucker addresses me again, I swear, I’ll choke him.

Mattia appears at my side, his face slightly flushed from running around all evening. He spent the night playing with the other kids, free of the weight that comes with our name.

It’s good to see him like this, for once.

He moves closer to Harlow, standing beside her, as he watches intently. An unrecognizable weight settles in my chest as I observe them.

She kneels slightly, meeting his height. “Did you enjoy the cake?”

Mattia shrugs, nonchalant. “It’s okay. I’ve had better.”

Harlow smirks. “Tough critic.”

He shifts nervously on his feet before glancing up at her. “Do you… wanna dance?” The organ I once believed incapable of functioning properly clenches tight in my chest.

Harlow blinks, caught off guard, but her expression softens almost instantly. “I would love to.”

I watch as she takes his small hand, leading him toward the dance floor. His steps are uncertain, but she guides him with ease, matching his pace, offering quiet reassurance.

The sight stirs something deep within me, a sensation I don’t have a name for, one I refuse to acknowledge.

The night winds down. Goodbyes are exchanged, Harlow offering quiet farewells to her family before scanning the room. “Mattia,” she calls softly.

He steps forward, and she offers him a small smile. “Let’s go.”

I don’t know why it affects me, why something so simple settles in my chest the way it does. But I like that she cares about my son, even if she hasn’t realized it herself yet.

The three of us move toward the waiting car. Mario approaches, his posture sharp, every movement crisp with purpose. “Everything’s secure,” he says, in a dry tone. “No disturbances. Not that I expected any, but you never know. A wedding without at least one attempted murder feels almost disappointing.”

I exhale, amusement ghosting through me. “We should aim higher next time.”

He smirks. “I’ll send out invitations.” Then his gaze flicks toward Harlow, briefly assessing, before returning to me. “You’re heading out?”

I incline my head. “Indeed. See to it that everything remains in order.”

Mario crosses his arms, his smirk shifting into something more knowing. “Of course, boss. Go enjoy your wedding night.”

I don’t dignify that with a response, just level him with a look that promises retribution. He grins, unfazed, as I slide into the car. The door shuts behind me, sealing off the night.