31. Matteo
Matteo
I’m hungover, grouchy, and one wrong breath away from putting my fist through the conference room table, and the worst part is that none of this is anyone’s fault but my own.
My brothers are doing something honorable.
I should be proud of them, supportive, even, but instead, I sit here with a pounding skull and a stomach full of regret, annoyed at myself for how catastrophically my plan to force Azra into honesty backfired.
My brilliant plan to make Azra tell the truth blew up in my face so spectacularly that I should win a medal for self-sabotage. I thought pretending I wanted Isabella would shake Azra enough that she’d admit she didn’t want to marry Antonio.
She barely flinched.
I must have tickets on myself, because I truly thought she’d react. Maybe not to the degree she did the blonde earlier this week at the gala, but anything would have been better than the silence she gave.
Dante leads the meeting by explaining the situation with Gabriele, the boy Lucia believed was her son for years. She loved him and protected him as if he were her own, and even after the truth came out, she continued to prioritize his best interests.
It’s been an uphill battle. Gabriele’s biological father was a low-ranked member of the Cosa Nostra. This complicates everything because, even though the man is dead, his bloodline ties Gabriele to rules we can’t ignore—rules I’d happily sidestep if it meant Azra could be honest with herself.
“We need to secure custody before a rival thinks they can use Lucia’s love of Gabriele against us,” Dante says, rubbing his temples. “Lucia loves that boy as if he were her own, so I don’t care how much it’ll cost to secure him.”
“Do you think this could end up being about money?” Giovanni asks.
Dante nods. “We took care of Carmela, but we don’t know how deep her lies run yet. We’ve got tabs on her family, but…” His worry won’t let him finish his reply. The thought of disappointing Lucia is as potent as the worry that he’s a deadbeat dad.
“If anyone takes him, we’ll intervene.” Giovanni thrusts his hand between himself and me. “And we won’t be gentle.”
I purse my lips, finally on board with this meeting.
I have a fuck ton of anger to dispel, but no fool willing enough to slip up.
Antonio almost did when he curled his arm around Azra’s waist, but Giovanni quickly reminded me through the speakers in my helmet that my deal with Azra became void the instant he replaced my name with Antonio’s.
“We need to move fast,” Nico says. “We should bring in a legal guardian who can protect him until the court has decided on custody.”
The court he mentions differs from the standard family court where people typically file custody disputes. Henry Gottle Sr. governs this one. The boss of all bosses.
“We’ve already taken care of that. Now we need to build the case carefully.
We need to show Lucia is fit to raise him without making her look weak.
” Dante would gut a man for even insinuating Lucia can’t take care of herself.
“And we need to keep any long-lost family members from stepping in before we’re awarded custody. ”
It’s a chaotic, fragile situation. My brothers are managing it so it will have no negative impact on our family, but I can’t focus. My head is pounding, and my thoughts keep drifting to Azra.
She sat in the SUV for an hour. An hour!
I thought she was having second thoughts.
Shows how much I know.
“Can we hurry this up?” I mutter, rubbing my temples. “I’ve got shit to do that doesn’t involve babysitting a minor.”
Don’t misunderstand me. I’ll be there with bells on and my bat if anyone dares to lay a hand on Gabriele, but this, the plotting and the planning, is not my part of our business.
Four sets of Caruso eyes snap toward me.
Giovanni raises a brow before he acts as if I don’t do everything in my power to piss him off a minimum of ten times a day. “What crawled up your ass?”
“Clearly not the same hand puppeteering your every move.” I’m a prick.
No kinder word exists, but this is how a man acts when someone has played him for a fool.
“We used to discuss drug shipments, prostitutes, and tactics to ensure we didn’t sample the same cunt within an hour of each other.
Now we talk about weddings, babies, and bedtime stories that don’t get close to a PG rating. You’ve gone fucking soft.”
Giovanni pushes back his chair, the legs scraping loudly against the floor. “Do you want to try that again?”
I stand too fast and too aggressively.
“Try what again?” I shoot back, glaring at him.
Dante rises too, jaw tight. “Sit down, Matteo.”
“Or what?” I ask, my voice low, dangerous, and stupid.
The tension spikes so fast that the air crackles.
Giovanni steps forward, unconcerned that I’m a head taller than him and a fuck ton heavier. “Either sit down or I’ll put you in the fucking chair myself.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
We’re a breath away from swinging at each other, but Nico and Elio move faster than our fists. Nico plants a hand on my chest, shoving me back a step, while Elio grabs Giovanni’s arm.
“Enough!” Nico shouts, his head bobbing like a spectator at a tennis match. “What the fuck? This isn’t us.” He grips my shirt firm enough to pop several threads. “This isn’t you.”
He stares at me as if he doesn’t know me. I’m not surprised. I don’t recognize myself. I respect my brothers. I love them. They’re not whom I’m angry at, but I’m too drug-fucked and hurt to remember that right now.
Nico pushes me back with more strength than I knew he had. “Go spend time with some ladies instead of coke. You’re fucking unbearable when you’re using and not getting any.”
The room falls silent. Not just because they had no idea I was using again, but because I didn’t even face a day of abstinence when I had my appendix removed. The nurses were hot, and I was horny. Sue me.
But now, his comment stirs something ugly inside me.
I’ve tried to move on, but I have no interest in anyone else.
None. Zero. I was so uninterested last night that before the woman at the private event could get her sloppy mouth near my lips, I threatened her.
She still lunged, but her lips landed on the side of my mouth instead of smack-dab in the middle.
I thought I had rubbed off the evidence of her near kiss until I stormed out of Giovanni’s office and caught my reflection in the mirror. The lipstick smear was as obvious as the anger searing my face.
I assumed it was why Azra said she wanted to marry Antonio, but then she went through with the purity test and climbed into the SUV. When she sat there for an hour, I thought maybe she had changed her mind, that she had chosen me.
She hadn’t. She walked straight into Antonio’s arms, and I got lost to drugs for the second time in under twenty-four hours.
I’d still be there now if they hadn’t called this meeting.
Dante clears his throat and then looks me in the eye. “You’re not needed for this part. We’ll call you if we need you to obstruct a foster care placement.”
Translation: You’re useless right now. Go deal with your mess.
“Fine,” I mutter, pushing back from the table. “I’m out.”
A few hours later, Nico finds me in the cold, stonewalled room where we’re meant to interrogate people, not where I’m meant to sleep. I’ve not slept in my room since my fight with Azra. I’ve camped on the couch in my man cave. And despite what Azra most likely believes, I’ve done it alone.
Sitting on the floor with my back against the wall, I stare at nothing but feel everything.
Nico doesn’t ask if I want to go out. He just says, “Come on.”
“I’m too far gone.” I drag a shaky hand over my head. You’d think the shame they hit me with when Nico admitted I was using again would have stopped me from hitting the drugs.
It did the opposite.
Nico grabs my coat off the hook and throws it at me. “You’ll probably want to be even more gone for this. Let’s go.”
“I’m not—”
“It wasn’t a question,” he snaps. “Move.”
He hauls me out of the dungeon like I’m a sulking teenager, and I’m too exhausted to fight him.
We end up at the nightclub I took Azra to. The music is loud, and the flashing lights are annoying. I’m eager to drown my sorrows, but I’d rather do it anywhere but here.
As I stumble into a booth more than I slide into it, a waitress comes over to take our drink order. She flashes me a flirty grin, and I’m shocked to realize my cock is mildly interested. It’s not hard, but there’s an occasional twitch when she rakes her teeth over her lower lip.
The fuck?
I must have snorted too much cocaine. Her lips are fat enough to announce she’d give fantastic head, but I’m not interested. So much so that when I notice her phone number scribbled on a napkin as she returns to serve our drinks, I leave it on the tray.
She scoffs, shocked, then darts away.
I throw back half my drink and almost choke when Nico says, “Antonio moved the wedding forward.”
My head snaps toward him as my molars grind. “What?”
“He moved it forward a week. It’s happening tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” The word rips out of me, raw and disbelieving.
He nods, and I slam the drink down so hard that the glass shatters. Liquid sprays over the table and my hands, but I barely feel it. My pulse pounds in my ears, and my vision narrows to a single point.
Tomorrow. Azra is marrying a dick turd tomorrow.
“So should you want to fix this, you’d better act fast.”
“Fix what?”
Nico gestures with his head toward the dance floor while repeating, “This.”
I follow his gaze, and my heart stops.
My cock wasn’t twitching in response to the blonde’s eagerness. Azra is on the dance floor, dancing like she doesn’t have a care in the world. Her hair is loose, and her eyes are bright. She’s carefree and easy-going in a way I haven’t seen since—
My nostrils flare as the itch to kill burns through me.
The last time she acted like this was when I made her climax, and the memory catapults my fury.