Chapter 9 Matteo
MATTEO
The day has finally come.
Giacomo gets to parade himself around—and apparently with the mysterious bride he’s been hyping for months.
I was beginning to think she was nothing more than a convenient rumor, another story he fed us to stay three steps ahead.
I adjust the watch on my wrist and look up to the chandeliers hanging above us in the room, but my mind is on one thing and one thing alone.
That damn dream wrecked me.
It had felt so real. She had felt so real, like she’d actually been in my hands.
Wanting her is a mistake. She’s a complication I can’t afford—an intrusion in a life already filled with enemies waiting to strike.
I don’t have room for distractions. Especially not a woman who slips under my skin like a blade.
Stay the course. Keep the focus.
“Looks like all our enemies and friends have gathered under one roof.” Valerio comes to stand beside me with a whiskey in hand. “I’m sure if we had our weapons, half of this crowd would be dead.”
I see many of the men who reveled in my father being gunned down like a bull.
They know what they’ve said, and they will answer for it. Many don’t meet my gaze, and even fewer have the decency to shake my hand and offer delayed condolences.
They know it’s better to make me an ally rather than a foe.
“This is all for show anyway. A facade of good faith from our world to the politicians and businessmen of this city.”
I look around the room at the fake smiles and lined pockets.
Politicians cozy up to us to fund their campaigns, while in exchange they turn blind eyes to some of our… businesses, to make our lives easier.
Nothing worse than the feds up your ass.
It’s a symbiotic relationship.
“You’ve been distracted as of late,” Valerio says, giving me a knowing glance. “Might it have to do with a particular short, petite brunette?”
I give him a hard stare. “You’re not funny.”
“I’m hilarious, and we both know this.” He sips his drink and dodges the slap I want to give him. “It’s not my fault you’ve been taken down by a woman. I told you there are plenty of others out there. Fuck her out of your system and be done with it. We have bigger problems.”
“I don’t need to get her out of my system,” I say, too sharp. “She’s not a concern.”
I don’t know if I’m trying to convince him… or myself.
“Has the guest of honor made an appearance yet?” Valerio thankfully changes the subject.
Immediately, my mood sours. “No. Seems like he wants to make a grand entrance. Knowing Giacomo, he’ll walk in with fucking theme music.”
Valerio laughs low. “So what do you think? Is she stunning… or the kind of face that makes babies cry?”
“A cursed soul, more like.” I can’t help but pity whoever ends up with his ring on her finger.
The room falls quiet, a slow ripple of attention pulling toward the entrance. I follow the shift out of habit—until I see him. Giacomo, walking in with his fiancée on his arm.
My gaze drifts to the woman beside him, and everything in me goes still.
No. It can’t be.
Yet there she is, stepping into the light like she belongs in it, and something inside me detonates so hard my pulse stutters.
Beatrice.
Her name doesn’t rise—it escapes me, dragged out on a breath I didn't mean to let go.
The floor feels unsteady beneath me.
The noise, the lights, the people fade to nothing, and all I can see is her—standing where she shouldn’t be, with a man who has no right to touch her.
I force my hands to stay loose at my sides, even as something in me strains against restraint, wanting to break free and do something I shouldn’t.
Of all the women he could have chosen… he chose her.
And suddenly the room feels too small, the air too thin, and every pair of eyes is irrelevant except hers.
She stands with Giacomo looking like a queen. Her long brown hair is styled into a delicate updo that frames her soft features. Her face has the smallest touches of makeup, and she radiates with a glow that can only come from within.
Giacomo whispers something in her ear, and she nods with a simple smile.
I swear, if he keeps looking that pleased with himself, I might break his damn face.
“This has to be the sickest joke the universe ever pulled.” Valerio kisses his teeth, disbelief and humor mixing in his tone. “She’s marrying Giacomo.”
He huffs a laugh. “Guess the bastard’s got taste after all.”
My eyes stay glued on them—her.
She’s in a silk gown the color of red wine, blood-rich and clinging in all the right places. There’s a slit that adds the perfect amount of sex and allure without being too trashy.
She is perfection in human form. And I’m not the only man who thinks so. Every male watches her with intrigue, and the women glare with envy.
Her neck is graced by a ruby-red necklace that seems out of place on her. It’s gaudy, flashy, and very much Giacomo. But even in its beauty, I know exactly what it is. It’s a leash—his leash on her.
She is under his command. You see it in the way they interact with each other.
The way Giacomo holds her arm like he owns her.
The way his eyes roam the room, not for enemies, but for witnesses to show off to.
Like he needs everyone to see that she’s his—the most coveted trophy claimed by his hands.
My jaw clenches.
All this time, his bride has been right under my nose—and I’ve been losing my mind over her without even knowing she was his.
Giacomo leads them into the ballroom and toward the bar. All eyes stay glued on them, and I hear the whispers and chatter already beginning. I know that, come morning, she will be the talk of the town and in turn have a massive target on her back.
It’s exactly what he wants. She is just another pawn in his game for power.
“I need a refill. You want one, boss?” Valerio tries to break my focus from the couple. “I’m going to get you one anyway. Don’t do anything dumb while I’m gone. I don’t have my gun on me right now.”
I don’t respond. My eyes stay fixed on her, completely and utterly captivated.
An angry red monster rears its ugly head in the middle of my chest when I see him whisper right by her ear.
I don’t want him touching her. I don’t want him anywhere near her.
Giacomo takes Beatrice to the side, near the pillars close to the orchestra playing in the background. All the while, he’s schmoozing and rubbing elbows with the rest of the crowd. Then he excuses himself and walks off with Arthur Valdez.
When he moves farther into the crowd and leaves her alone, I see it as my chance.
Honestly, it’s best to stay away from her, knowing now how closely linked she is to Giacomo. But for some reason, that only draws me closer.
I want her in ways I’ve never wanted anyone in my entire life. She’s like a hit of crack. One taste and I’m undone.
I make my way toward her, and thankfully, she doesn’t see me until it’s too late to run. Her eyes widen only by a fraction before I come to a halt in front of her.
“So this is him. The man you’re set to marry.”
The words leave me calm, measured—nothing like the way the truth tears through me on the inside.
“Of all the men in this city—hell, on this planet—you chose him?”
I pause, the silence heavy enough to bruise.
Her eyes meet mine, seeing more than I want her to.
A strained smile tugs at my mouth. “You’re marrying that tyrant?”
The air between us tightens, the room seeming to hold itself still as she draws a breath.
“Matteo, I—”
A server appears at our side, tray balanced neatly. “Drinks for the two of you?”
Just like that, the moment collapses.
She straightens, smoothing her expression. “No, thank you.”
Her voice is steadier now, but her eyes aren’t.
I take her hand and lift it to my lips, brushing a slow kiss across her knuckles.
“Good evening, Beatrice,” I murmur. “You look radiant.”
I rise, still holding her hand.
“Shame your date left you standing alone.”
Her breath stutters. “Matteo… don’t.”
She glances around quickly. “Please—”
“Il frutto proibito,” I murmur. “The forbidden fruit.”
“Don’t. People are staring, and I think you need to let go of my hand and walk away. Please.”
“I’m not worried about them, bella. Eyes on me isn’t anything new. I’m quite used to it.”
“Well, I’m not.” She tries to rip her hand from mine, but I hold on harder. “Matteo, please. My fiancé is—”
I lean in, cutting her off as I lower my voice. “Dance with me.”
It’s not a question.
“Are you serious right now?”
“Yes.”
“No.” She stiffens and tries to pull her hand away, but again, my grip becomes iron.
“Matteo.”
“One dance, bella, and then I’ll leave you to your perfect little evening.”
She hesitates, but that’s all I need to pull her onto the dance floor and into a slow waltz. I rest my hand just above her waist, and she places her hand in mine and the other on my shoulder in resignation.
Good girl.
The music swells around us, elegant and meaningless, as couples glide in circles under chandeliers that drip crystal like ice. The floor glistens from their reflections. Her heat mixes with mine, and her familiar lavender scent assaults my senses.
She doesn’t meet my eyes, but that doesn’t matter to me. All I care about is that she is in my arms—and the world is watching.
Including him.
Am I trying to prove a point? Yes. Do I love seeing her squirm in my presence? Also yes.
I hear her grind her teeth under the tension in her jaw. “You’re enjoying this far too much. Do you have any idea how this looks? I’m an engaged woman.”
“We are doing nothing wrong, bella.” I lean just close enough that the words glide over her skin without ever touching it.
“We’re two people enjoying a dance together. I’m not fucking you raw in front of everyone, now am I?” I chuckle low under my breath. “Breathe, Beatrice. People are watching because you are beautiful.”
“I’m one of many well-dressed women here, Matteo.” She pulls back, and her eyes meet mine in a heated gaze.
“Not even close, Beatrice. Your beauty far surpasses every woman here.” The truth in my words carries a weight she doesn’t want to hold.