Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Matteo
She was gasping in my arms, face flushed.
"There's no arranged marriage. Never was. The whole thing's just those old bastards playing house. Samantha got shoved at me tonight—I didn't even know until I showed up."
She wouldn't look at me, just burrowed deeper into my chest.
I kissed the top of her head, couldn't help myself. "Come back. I miss you."
She didn't answer, so I slipped my hands under her arms and tickled until she was shaking with laughter.
"Matteo, stop! Please!" She spun around, grabbing my hands.
"Then come home with me."
"I can't. You know I have to be there when Leona comes back."
"Then I'm not letting you off easy." I made another move.
Her arms came up around my neck. She kissed me hard. "Is that enough?"
"All right. I'll take you home."
She nodded. I scooped her up.
"Matteo!" She grabbed my shoulders, voice low and panicked. "There are people downstairs."
"So we're not going downstairs."
I carried her through the hidden passage at the end of the second floor. When we reached the side exit, cold air hit us.
I was about to step outside when the sound of shoes scraping concrete came from around the corner. I shoved Rachel behind me, right hand already pulling my gun.
"Don't make a sound." I set her down, keeping her protected. She immediately covered her mouth.
Three men in baseball caps emerged from the shadows. They spread out—one with his hand in his coat pocket, another circling to get behind me.
They were here for Rachel. Ballsy fuckers.
The one on the right lunged. I blocked him, and the second one immediately reached for Rachel's arm. I caught his wrist, twisted it outward, drove my knee into his gut, and slammed him against the wall with my gun under his jaw.
The others bolted for the alley. Luca charged in from the other side with the security team and cut them off. The leader was still screaming at Rachel. "Bitch! Tell that whore Leona if she doesn't clear that debt, this ain't over."
I raised my gun to his head. Rachel's hand caught my wrist. I lowered it. Luca knocked him out cold and dragged him away. I turned and pulled her into my arms.
"It's over." One hand cradled her head, the other rubbed her back. "I'm here."
"They mentioned Leona..." She looked up at me, face white as paper. "Matteo, do they know where she is? Do you have news about her?"
My throat felt like someone shoved concrete down it. The trail went cold in New Jersey. Telling Rachel would only destroy her.
"I'm looking," I said. "Got a lead, but nothing confirmed."
"Is she still alive?"
I took her cold hand. "I'll find her." Tears spilled down her cheeks.
"Listen." I cupped her face, made her look at me. "What you need to do right now is stay alive, stay safe, stay where I can see you. Leave everything else to me."
I kissed her forehead. "I will bring her back. Trust me. But there's something more important now—you're moving in with me."
"But, Matteo—"
"Not negotiable this time," I cut her off. "I can't gamble on being there every time you're in danger."
She nodded, burying her face in my chest. I settled her in the back seat and climbed in beside her. Luca returned, jumped in the driver's seat, and took off.
The butler was waiting in the foyer when we got back to the apartment.
"Hot water." I guided Rachel inside. "Clean clothes, warm milk, and the first aid kit."
"Yes, sir."
Cassius jumped off the couch the second he saw Rachel, winding around her ankles.
"Hey, you little punk."
Cassius meowed, apparently fine with the nickname. I got Rachel to the master bedroom and unzipped her dress. I was gonna give her a bath, but she firmly pushed me out.
I headed to the study. Luca followed.
"Talk."
"They're middlemen. Cash deal, burner phone, meeting place was a junkyard in Queens. Orders were clear—grab Rachel."
I stared at the desk, fingers tapping twice. "Someone else holds Leona's debt."
Luca spat, face darkening. "Fuck. Knew it couldn't be this simple. Your exit route got leaked, and those guns they were carrying weren't street trash."
"I want a list of everyone tonight. Hotel staff, outside security, family rotation, everyone Ashford brought. Cross-reference all of it. Especially anyone who knew about the side exit."
"On it." Luca left, jaw tight.
Back in the bedroom, Rachel was already lying down, facing away.
I slid in beside her and wrapped my arm around her waist. She barely slept that night.
Every ten minutes, she'd jolt awake, and the first word out of her mouth was always Leona.
I pulled her back into my arms every time, told her I was there.
The next morning, before dawn, my phone buzzed. I glanced at Rachel, finally asleep, and carefully got up.
Text from Cynthia with the day's schedule. Board meeting, merger talk, dinner... I didn't have the patience. I called her. She picked up immediately.
"Cancel everything." I kept my voice low.
"Sir, do you mean this morning's appointments, or—"
"Everything."
"Yes, sir."
I hung up and shoved the phone in my pocket. Went back to pull the blanket over her shoulder, then headed to the kitchen. The butler was at the counter organizing breakfast. When he saw me roll up my sleeves and walk in, his expression suggested Cassius had just started singing opera in Italian.
"Sir?"
"Eggs, bread, bacon, coffee." I opened the fridge. "And milk."
"I'll have someone prepare—"
"I got it."
When I carried the tray back to the bedroom, Rachel was awake. She sat up holding the blanket, eyes still hazy.
"Baby, time for breakfast."
"Did you... make this?"
"Don't use that tone." I set the tray on her lap.
"Matteo, honestly, this egg looks like it survived a war."
"It did its best."
I handed her a fork. She stared at me, then finally took it and cut a small piece. She chewed twice, eyebrows lifting slightly.
"Not terrible."
"What a touching compliment."
"Don't get cocky." She bit into the bacon. "This one's like a shoelace."
"I'll improve next time."
She paused, looking up at me. "There's a next time?"
I pushed the warm milk toward her. "If you want."
The following days, I came home on time every night.
My cooking actually got better. Never thought I'd spend this much time in a kitchen.
But now, hearing oil sizzle softly in the pan, watching her stand on tiptoes reaching for spices on the top shelf—somehow that picture was more addictive than any territory I'd ever won.
Except for one thing that worried me—Rachel's nightmares never stopped.
That weekend, I woke Rachel early. She stood in the closet doorway, drowsily pulling on a sweater. By the time she finished, the suitcase was packed.
"Where are we going?"
"The Hamptons."
"Matteo, I'm not prepared at all."
"Two changes of clothes. Everything else is there." I handed her the bag.
"What about the company?"
"Company won't die without me for two days. George and the others can handle it."
She tried to keep a straight face for two seconds before laughing. "George is going to strangle you."
"Let him try."
Two hours later, we reached the beach house in the Hamptons. Rachel stood in the doorway, sea breeze tangling her bangs. She took a deep breath, shoulders visibly relaxing.
"This place is beautiful. I don't want to leave."
"Then don't."
"Depends on your performance." She tucked the windblown hair behind her ear. "If you keep murdering me with shoelace bacon, I won't last long."
I smiled, smoothing her hair. "For the record, that wasn't murder. That was an unsuccessful hospitality attempt."
She raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it.
"But if you're seriously planning to use that as an escape excuse," I looked at her, speaking slowly, "then I'm forced to improve."
"Forced?" She scoffed.
"Of course." I dropped my gaze to her lips, voice lazy. "After all, I now have a very clear goal—keep you here at least three days."
Her ears turned pink. "Sounds like unlawful detention."
"No." I leaned in close, forehead nearly touching hers. "This is called reasonable retention."
"Mr. Vitale, are your phrasings always this dangerous?"
"Only for you," I smirked. "And if you still want to leave—"
I watched with satisfaction as she held her breath. "I'll make something decent and win you back. Plus, if I can't keep you here, Cassius will probably disown me first."
She couldn't help laughing. Sea wind cut between us, carrying salt and moisture. I hooked my hand around her waist, pulling her closer.
The ocean glittered with sunlight. She kicked off her shoes, carrying them as she walked barefoot in the sand. Suddenly she bent down, picked up a tiny shell, and placed it solemnly in my palm.
"For you, Mr. Vitale. Your new oceanfront development project."
I glanced at the pathetically small shell. "The square footage is disappointing."
"But the location's unbeatable."
"What's the price?"
She thought about it, smiling a little slyly. "TV remote control rights tonight."
"That's extortion."
"Welcome to the free market."
"Fine."
She laughed and stepped into the water, gasping softly but insisting it wasn't cold.
"Get out. Water's too cold."
"You sound like my sister right now."
"Then Leona has common sense."
She splashed water at me. I narrowed my eyes. She backed up a step but tried to stay composed.
"You're not that petty, are you?"
I slowly undid my cufflinks. She immediately turned and ran.
"Oh no, Matteo, you can't—"
I caught up in a few strides and swept her up. She gasped with laughter in my arms, wet hem plastered against my pants, arms hooked around my neck, waves lapping at our feet.
I kissed her. When I finished, I carried her back to the house. After dinner, we sat on the terrace wrapped in the same blanket, watching stars. The ocean was pitch black, waves constant, but the night sky was impossibly clean, like someone had scrubbed the entire universe and laid it out fresh.
Rachel held her hot chocolate, leaning against me. "When I was little, I thought all those lights in Manhattan were stars." She pointed at a cluster of stars. "Then Leona told me that was the electric bill."
I chuckled quietly. "She's practical."
"She's always been practical." Rachel looked down at her mug, voice softening. "She'd definitely say this house is too much, that cleaning it would kill an entire crew. But she'd also definitely raid the fridge first to see if there's dessert."
I squeezed her hand. She was quiet for a few seconds, then looked up at me. "Do you really think she'll come back?"
"I'll bring her back."
She studied me for a long time, then exhaled softly and nestled closer. I kissed her forehead. Didn't say anything more.
She fell asleep in my arms. The blanket slipped off her shoulder. I tucked it back around her. Her face pressed against my chest, breath warm and steady.
I looked down at her, and suddenly felt that everything I'd spent years clawing for—territory, power, deals, gunfire, a name people feared—was like a cold, heavy key that opened many doors but never let me actually walk into anything resembling a real life.
But just some burnt breakfasts, movies I didn't really watch, an impulsive beach trip. Ordinary as hell. Nothing like my life.
Yet somehow it was exactly these mundane things that made me feel something close to greed for the first time—if every day ahead could be like this, with her cursing at me in the kitchen for not knowing salt from sugar, with her falling asleep on the couch, with her instinctively grabbing me during nightmares, with her looking up at me and smiling on the beach, then the whole fucked-up world out there didn't matter much.
Tonight there was no sobbing when Rachel woke from nightmares, no trembling as she called Leona's name, just sea wind, waves, starlight, and the weight of her in my arms.
Bringing Rachel to live with me was the best damn decision I ever made.