Maria 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.
The room erupts into chaos.
Half a dozen men reach for their weapons, but before they can aim, Giacomo lifts a hand, blood dripping from his lip.
“Put them down,” he orders, his voice eerily calm. “Nothing but a greeting between old pals. Isn’t that right?”
They hesitate but obey.
He wipes the blood from his mouth and grins up at me, eyes gleaming with something dark, something twisted. “There he is. I was wondering when you’d finally show me your real face. Ladies, please make yourself scarce. I have a conversation to have with my friend over here.”
The half-naked women leave the booth, and Giacomo and I are the only two left. The room is still filled with a heavy tension that doesn’t seem to let up even as the seconds tick by.
My hands flex at my sides, my pulse pounding in my ears.
“You made a mistake coming here,” he continues, shifting back into his seat as if he isn’t still tasting blood. “Now, let’s talk about how you are going to pay for what you’ve done.”
I exhale sharply, rolling my shoulders. “I don’t owe you a damn thing.”
He lets out a low chuckle. “No?” He leans forward, his voice dropping. “You stole from me. My wife. My son.”
My jaw tightens. “Beatrice ran from you. She hated your guts, and she sought to seek shelter. I never stole anything.”
“No, Matteo. This is personal—between you and me. That bitch belonged to me, and I paid a hefty price for her. Then you go and take her away from me and raise my blood—my heir—as some kind of half-bred mutt. Cunt.”
A muscle ticks in my jaw. His insults roll off me like water but if he mentions my son again, I am going to lose my shit.
Giacomo exhales, his smile fading. “Tell me, did you like my little surprise? It’s unfortunate that Emily went a little rogue and fell for you. What she sees in you, I don’t know.”
“I didn’t take you for a man who would send some pussy due to his dirty work.” I am goading him. I want him to lose all sense and composure. The more unhinged he is, the better for me.
“Nice try, Matteo. But your playground tactics won’t work on me, I’m afraid. Using Emily was one of the smartest things I have ever done. She was the enemy from within—the Trojan horse.”
I grind my teeth together. But I don’t speak because the truth of the matter is that he is right. She did slip through the cracks.
“Enjoy the time you have left with your wife, Davacalli. Because the pain I’m going to inflict on you—on her—will be glorious.” His eyes gleam with quiet, terrifying promise. “Tell me, do you think she will ride my dick as well as she rides yours?”
I watch his eyes flick to my waistband, and I know instantly what he wants me to do. I won’t give him the satisfaction. He knows I am carrying, and he wants me to pull the trigger.
This is all about whoever shoots first and ignites the war.
“You are going to die, Giacomo, and when you do, it will be at the mercy of my bullet.” I turn and walk out, my hands still clenched into fists. I feel the eyes follow me as I exit out of the club.
The cool night air does nothing to calm the fury thrumming through my veins. My knuckles ache, the skin split and raw from the punch I landed on Giacomo. Not an ounce of satisfaction fills me.
I exhale sharply, running a hand through my hair just as a familiar voice calls out from behind me.
“Matteo.”
I turn to see Valerio standing against my car, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. His gaze flickers to my bruised knuckles before meeting mine. He’s pissed, I can see it but his body remains cool and collected.
“Do you feel better?”
“No.” I walk toward the car. I come to a halt beside him and lean against it too. “The asshole somehow always seems to be two steps ahead every fucking time. He used Emily, Rio. Emily, of all people. He was able to get that close, and I… I couldn’t do anything to stop him. If Ginny hadn’t caught the poison in time… Maria could’ve been gone.”
I didn’t even want to think of what could have happened today.
“I know,” is all he manages to say. Truthfully, there are no words that he can tell me to make any of this better.
“I should have killed him,” I mutter. “I should have pulled the trigger and killed him.”
Valerio exhales, shaking his head. “No, you shouldn’t have.” His voice is steady and holds the control I wish I had. “Not yet. We have a plan in place, and we just need to stick to it. I know it sucks that we have to wait, but patience is a virtue. You taught me that.”
I don’t argue, even though the need to spill blood is still clawing at my insides. He is right, and I am thankful that things didn’t escalate beyond what happened.
“Go home to your wife, Matteo. She’s been calling, asking for you.” He pats my shoulder. “After today of all days, she will need you.”
“She’s awake?”
He nods. “She woke up just after you left and started calling. She’s worried about you. Don’t keep her waiting.”
Crap. I sigh heavily and lean against the car even more. Yet again, I dropped the ball. She isn’t meant to be awake. I don’t want her to see me like this. Knowing her, she will try to take on my burden as her own.
Valerio studies me for a long moment, then tilts his head toward the car. “Go home, Matteo.”
I don’t need to be told twice.
By the time I step inside the house, the world is quiet again. But that doesn’t mean I am. I walk up the stairs, my body aching in ways that have nothing to do with the fight and everything to do with the rage simmering inside me.
I pass the guards, and they greet me and remain on their posts.
When I push open the bedroom door, I find Maria sitting up in bed, her hazel eyes filled with something I don’t deserve—concern.
“You’re back,” she murmurs, her gaze flickering to my hands. “Valerio told me what you were up to. First off, are you out of your mind? And second, don’t vanish without telling me where you’re going. You hate it when I go rogue, so don’t think you get a free pass to do the same. I’m your wife, you need to tell me these things.”
I exhale slowly, shutting the door behind me. “I’m sorry.”
The apology has a double meaning. I am apologizing for what I did and leaving her after the kind of day she endured. But I am also seeking forgiveness for other things I fear she may never look past.
I sit on the edge of the bed, flexing my fingers, wincing at the pain shooting through them. Maria reaches for my hand carefully, her touch hesitant but gentle.
“You’re hurt,” she whispers.
“It’s nothing.”
“If you’re bleeding, then it’s not nothing. Let me see.”
I watch as she studies the bruises, her fingers lightly tracing over the broken skin. She is soft, and her touch seems to offer me comfort that leaves my heart feeling warm. She creates this safe bubble where I am free to take off the armor I wear for the rest of the world.
She makes me feel safe and vulnerable. She makes it okay for me to let her see the things that pain me.
“Daniele isn’t mine.” The words come out rough, weighted with something I can’t quite name. It’s the first time I am uttering the secret that only a handful of people know. A secret I promised to take with me to the grave.
Maria stills, her eyes snapping to mine. “What?”
I inhale deeply, finally saying the truth out loud. “Daniele isn’t my son—not biologically.”
She stares at me, waiting, letting me take my time. So I do. I mull over my words in my head and try to think of the best way to explain it to her.
“Beatrice was engaged to Giacomo before me,” I continue, my voice quieter now. “He hurt her. He raped and abused her in the year leading up to their union. Her father had a debt he couldn’t pay, and Giacomo opted for her as payment. She was already pregnant with Daniele when she begged me to take her away from him.”
Maria’s grip on my hand tightens slightly. “So you did.”
I nod. “I married her to keep her safe. Giacomo lost his mind when he found out. He swore he’d kill me, swore he’d take them both back. And when he couldn’t—when he failed—he blamed me for everything. This entire thing is happening because he wants revenge—on me. That’s why he came after you.”
Maria doesn’t speak right away. Then, softly, she asks, “Did you love her?”
I stare at our joined hands, at the way hers fits so easily against mine. Like she is my perfect match in every way, and yet we are so vastly different—night and day.
“I did love her, so much,” I say quietly. “In the only way I knew how, back then. I thought she was it for me—my first real connection, someone I wanted to protect. And I did. I protected her with everything I had.”
I pause, searching Maria’s eyes.
“But then she died… and I met you. And suddenly, I realized what I felt before—it wasn’t the kind of love that scorches through your veins and leaves nothing untouched. It wasn’t the kind that consumes you, ruins you, and rebuilds you in its image. Not like this. Not like you.”
I exhale, my voice rough. “You broke me open, Maria. You showed me what it means to love so deeply it hurts. What it means to be terrified of losing someone because your soul wouldn’t survive it. What I feel for you… it rewrote everything I thought I knew.”
I swallow hard.
“I cared for Beatrice. I did. But I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.”
Maria nods slowly, absorbing my words. “And Daniele?”
I exhale, running a hand down my face. “He was never mine. But I raised him like he was. I held him through every scraped knee, every sleepless night, every heartbreak. I taught him to walk, to fight, to stand tall. He may not be my son by blood, but he is my son in every way that matters. He was raised through my hands, he carries my name, my values—he is mine.”
My throat tightens slightly. “And it will be a cold day in hell before I let Giacomo have him.”
Maria looks at me for a long time, something shifting in her expression. Then she moves closer, her fingers sliding up my arm, over my shoulder. She doesn’t say anything at all. Then she pulls me into her for a firm hug.
She just holds me. And for once, I let her, I allow her to hold the cracked pieces of me. I close my eyes, resting my forehead against hers, permitting myself a rare moment of stillness.
“I’m sure it wasn’t easy to share that with me.” She pulls away to look into my eyes. She presses her lips to mine briefly for a short peck. But that small kiss alone is enough to soothe many of the jagged edges in my heart.
At that moment, I make a vow that when this is all over, I will tell her about Antonio. After feeling the weight lift off my chest, I know that the right thing to do is to tell her. I just hope that when I do, she doesn’t walk away. Because if she does… I’m not sure I’ll survive it.
