Chapter 3 Matteo
MATTEO
She hasn’t left my mind.
Brown hair, autumn-leaf eyes with golden flecks that caught the morning sun.
This woman has my head in a fucking tailspin. And I’m pissed at myself for letting one woman destabilize me.
I swirl the glass in my hand but don’t drink. I’ve been nursing this same whiskey for almost an hour.
I close my eyes and listen to my surroundings—the quiet clink of glass against glass, the low thrum of jazz weaving through the room, the hush of whispers and secrets too expensive for daylight.
This is where the city’s real power gathers. Not in boardrooms or courtrooms, but in dimly lit sanctuaries like this—places where silence is currency, and betrayal is only ever a drink away.
I lean back, eyes flicking to my second as he reads through the contract we secured a few hours ago. His jaw is tight, and the grip on his whiskey glass is even tighter. His hazel gaze moves over the paper, and I catch the small smile curving his lips.
Valerio Antonelli—my most trusted soldier, and my most lethal weapon.
Our fathers bled together. Built this empire from ash and shadow. When my father died, I didn’t just inherit his title; I inherited his war and every mistake that came with it. And Valerio? He stayed at my side through all of it.
“Why do you look like someone pissed in your drink? You just secured one of the most lucrative deals in syndicate history, and you’re over here… moping.” Valerio places the document down and looks at me.
He lifts his whiskey, takes a sip, hisses, then goes in for another, clearly savoring the well-aged burn.
“Don’t act as if you don’t like coming here.” I sip my own whiskey. “You’re more of a regular than I am.”
I never liked this place much before my father’s passing. But now, I feel a strange connection to the old man—crazy as that sounds.
Sion is a gentlemen’s club for the rich and elite. There’s an extensive application process, and most get denied no matter how many zeroes sit in their bank accounts. It isn’t about money here. It’s about something money can’t buy—prestige… power.
Valerio and I are legacies. Our fathers were members, and that gave us a foot in the door when we came of age.
“I love Sion.” He looks around the dimly lit lounge. “But I’d prefer if some women were walking around.”
Valerio’s the ultimate womanizer. I’ve never seen him fall for a woman, only hunt for the next one to take home.
“Alright, enough. What’s actually going on with you?” He downs the rest of his drink and slams the crystal tumbler on the table. “In fact, you’ve been distracted for weeks. Forgetful. Sometimes you need reminding of basic things. What’s going on, Matteo?”
I shrug. “A lot has been on my mind, I guess.”
He studies me for a moment. I keep my gaze locked on the glass, drawing circles along the rim. I think of how her eyes match the whiskey sitting at the bottom.
“If you’re going to be prissy after a day like today, I’m leaving you and going to the strip club.” He practically sulks like a toddler. “Maybe some ass and tits will lift my mood.”
I roll my eyes and ignore the dig. I couldn’t care less about strip clubs, parties, or any of the things I used to enjoy in my former years. Burying my father changed my perspective on everything.
“Don’t tell me it’s the girl on the rooftop?”
When I sip my drink and don’t answer, he rolls his eyes. I curse the day I told him about that encounter.
“Come on, Matteo. You’re still thinking about her? A month later?”
I say nothing.
“You don’t even know her name.” He clicks his tongue in disapproval. “You’re the young heir to a powerful syndicate. You could have any woman you want. Why pine after a woman who was suicidal? Sounds more like trouble than peace.”
“I’m not pining.”
“Oh really? Then what is all this?” He gestures to me. “You’re moping over her and you just signed a ten-figure deal. You’re either insane or you hit your head somewhere.”
“The woman was suicidal,” he repeats slowly, like he wants the words to stick.
I shake my head. “She didn’t want to jump. I know the difference—hers was the look of someone running from something.”
And ever since, that look has been welded beneath my ribs.
A moment of silence settles between us.
“You do know it’s not your job to save people, right?” My best friend looks me dead in the eye. “You’ve always had a hero complex,” he says. “It’s not your job to keep everyone else afloat.”
His words hold up a mirror, forcing me to confront the truth. To some extent, he’s right.
“She’s just a woman, Matteo. There are millions more in this city.” Valerio tries to reason with me. “But women in our world can be a man’s downfall. We’ve both seen what a seductress can do to powerful men.”
He’s right; I’ve been telling myself the same thing. Trying to convince myself to let go of this obsession with her. Because that’s exactly what it is. An obsession.
I sip my whiskey as the waiter hands us another round.
I open my mouth to speak again, but that’s when Marcello Faravelli makes an appearance. He strides through the doors like he owns the place—all power, no weakness.
The last piece of our unholy trinity.
The Three Sons of Shadow—that’s what they call us. Two heirs to the most powerful syndicates, and one lethal soldier from a bloodline everyone respects and fears.
“Why does he always look like he’s modeling when he walks into a room?” Valerio grumbles from his chair. “I swear, the man moves in slow motion.”
I chuckle under my breath, watching our third piece waltz in like the world was built for him.
His brown eyes sweep over the lounge as he makes his way toward us.
He’s the perfect blend of me and Valerio.
Where Valerio is all brute strength and zero remorse, Marcello actually empathizes with people.
I fall somewhere in between—equal parts force and feeling.
Though the latter still struggles to manifest in me.
“You’re both a sight for sore eyes,” he says once he’s close enough. “I see you’ve started without me.”
“You were late, as usual. A drink waits for no one, Marcello.” Valerio lifts his glass as Marcello settles into his seat. “Don’t tell me you were with… what’s her name again?”
“Her name is Marta, and you’d do well to show her some respect, Valerio.” Marcello gestures for the waiter. “She’ll be my wife one day.”
“Wife?” Valerio twists his face in disgust. “Is this where we are now? I remember just last year we were taking over clubs together—fucking women, closing deals, and doing it all over again.”
“We grew up,” Marcello says quietly. “You do realize we’re heads of organizations now? We’re not fucking Hugh Hefner.”
“That’s one way of putting it.” I tip my glass toward him.
Valerio blinks at us like we’ve lost our minds. “I can’t believe this. How can anyone choose just one woman? There are far too many to choose from.”
“Better pining after one woman than trying to sleep with the whole city,” I shoot back. “I’m shocked your dick hasn’t rotted off.”
Valerio shrugs. “I’m young, rich, and the world’s at my feet. Marriage isn’t in the cards for me. I’m happy playing the loyal sidekick.”
I roll my eyes. Then I turn to Marcello. “How are you handling everything since the transition to El Capo?”
Marcello shrugs as the waiter sets his drink down. “Not much of a difference. My father was sick for so long that I was in charge months before he finally passed. But if I’m being honest with you, I couldn’t care less about the business.”
I hum in agreement. This world isn’t for the faint of heart, and there are nights I question why I’m still here. It’s not the money or the power. It’s the legacy. I’m a ninth-generation boss; my family built this empire brick by bloody brick. That doesn’t get thrown away.
“But you’re still here,” Valerio says. “I understand you don’t like the darker side of things, Marcello. But this is your family’s legacy. The blood that was spilled to build what you have can’t be forgotten.”
“I’m still here, aren’t I?” Marcello sighs and takes a sip from his glass. “But I just wonder how long I can go on. I’m alone right now, but what about when I have a family?”
“Then you’ll do what our fathers did for us. You’ll protect them, teach them, and show them the way of the brotherhood.” Valerio makes it sound so simple.
But the way of the brotherhood is riddled with dangers that could scare even the bravest of men.
The questions and concerns Marcello raises are the same ones I’ve asked myself, but never had the courage to voice. And now that I sit at the helm of the ship, I can’t help but wonder.
I have a responsibility to carry on our legacy. But what about when new responsibilities appear on the horizon? What if I have a daughter? Would I ever want her in this world? She would be born with a target on her back. I’d have a weakness everyone could exploit.
“Matteo?” Marcello draws me from my thoughts. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Just thinking about the next phase. The new construction company. The meeting the other heads want about Giacomo.”
As soon as I say his name, their faces twist into matching frowns. Giacomo is about as popular as a mortician. No one in this world likes him, and he goes against the code of the brotherhood.
“Did you hear what he’s been doing?” Valerio asks, looking to Marcello.
“Some of the kids he’s pulling into his schemes are barely fifteen,” I say.
Both of them hiss under their breath.
“Children should never be touched by this world,” I add. “We have a code. Rules that keep us from turning into monsters.”
They hum their agreement.
“Word on the street is he’s getting married.”
“Married? Which woman has the poor misfortune of being engaged to him?” I can’t think of anything worse than being wedded to a man like Giacomo.
“No one knows. He’s kept her under lock and key these last few weeks. But from what I’ve heard, she’s striking.” Valerio downs the rest of his drink. “Whoever she is, I hope she has the stomach to deal with Giacomo.”
I nod in agreement.
Rooftop Girl flashes through my mind for no good reason, and I hate myself for even thinking of her in the same breath as him.
Marcello clears his throat and lifts his glass. “Enough about that asshole for now. We’re here to celebrate your win, my brother. I know this isn’t the crown you wanted to wear, but I’m proud of what you’re doing with what your father left you.”
Valerio lifts his empty glass. “Here’s to more success, more money—and, in my case, more women.”
Marcello mutters, “Unnecessary.”
“Oh, extremely necessary,” Valerio smirks.
I roll my eyes and clink my glass with theirs.
They’re the only thing that keeps me grounded in this storm.
I can’t afford to obsess over a woman I don’t even know.
The jazz fades, the whiskey burns, and still—it’s her face that lingers.
She should’ve been a blip in my past.
I drink to that lie and pretend I believe I’ll never see her again.