11. Theá
Chapter eleven
Theá
T he night wrapped up a lot faster than I had anticipated, and it’s not long before Antonio and I are getting ready to head to our new home in Monaco.
It feels strange to even think about it like that, especially when the common-sense side of my brain knows it’s completely normal to move in with your husband once you get married.
“I’ll see you soon, right?” Noelle asks. Her eyes are big as they search mine.
“Of course, I’ll make sure of it.” I hug her tightly in the most reassuring way I can since I know that’s a lie. I have no idea what sort of fate awaits me once I arrive in Monaco, and I’m officially at Antonio’s mercy.
“Theresa, we have to go,” Antonio says softly before he walks off, leaving me alone with my sister again.
“I love you so, so much. Never forget that. And please try and stay out of trouble. Promise me you will.”
“I promise, Theá. Promise me I’ll see you again.”
My mouth opens and closes a few times. I might lie, but I can’t promise her something like this. “I can’t, but I’ll try my best. That’s all I can promise you. I’ll die trying.”
She nods before giving me a final hug and then backing away to return to the venue where the rest of our family is spending the night. All the Vitales included. Antonio insisted on leaving and returning home instead of staying at this gorgeous venue.
I spot Antonio leaning against a very extravagant sports car. “Wow, where did this come from?”
“I had it shipped over. If I’m going to be trapped here, I at least want to drive around in my car.” He grins before opening the butterfly doors and offering me a hand.
“I may as well be sitting on the floor.” I frown.
“But you aren’t. You’re going to be sitting on Nappa leather seats.” His smile doesn’t falter; in fact, it looks brighter.
I roll my eyes, disregard his hand, and do the best squat possible in heels and tequila jelly legs.
“Suit yourself, sunshine. Buckle up,” he says as he lowers the door.
The car pulls away from the venue slowly, and he hits a comfortable speed as we get on the long road to Monaco. I suppose I should at least be thankful that he’s not one of those car guys who want to show off by going incredibly fast, or the next two hours would’ve been incredibly uncomfortable.
“I was kind of expecting you to be a backseat driver,” he says, breaking the silence.
Breaking my gaze from the scenery, I turn to face him. His shirt sleeves are rolled up until just below his elbow, putting his forearms on full display, veins roping around them. His hair is a complete mess, the hairspray and gel having long worn off. That, or it’s just a result of him running his hand through it the entire night. And with how good he smells right now, he looks completely and utterly fuckable.
His eyes meet mine for a split second as he checks on me, and the icy green colour snaps me out of my trance. A trance that I am going to completely blame on all the tequila I drank tonight. Courtesy of Valerie and Adriano.
“What made you think that?”
“You seem to always have a little comeback for whatever I say.”
“If you decided to drive like Whylde Kings, I might’ve said something. But you’re doing a decent job.”
His eyes flash to mine again before his sunny demeanour changes to a more gloomy one. “Are you a fan of his?”
I furrow my brows, and I want to laugh at the way his entire tone changed just because I mentioned the Formula 1 driver.
“He’s Whylde Kings; everyone’s a fan.” I smirk, baiting him to see just what kind of reaction I can get.
“Not everyone,” he states before allowing us to settle into a more uncomfortable silence.
The tension in the car rises, and my thoughts can’t help but wonder about him and Valerie. The argument looked intense, and even when I went outside when he was speaking to Ambrose, it looked so far from the Antonio I’d seen this last week.
I glance over at him. He seems more at ease now, but the way he’s nibbling at the inside of his cheek tells me he isn’t as cool as his outer appearance may seem.
“Antonio,” I say. He barely reacts aside from a small hum. He looks lost in thought, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s about the events that transpired tonight.
Or about Valerie.
Then, as he glances over at me, I somehow feel that now is probably the best time to ask the question. “What’s the deal with you, Valerie, and Ambrose?”
His gaze returns to the road with no response, but I watch as his knuckles turn a deathly white as his grip on the steering wheel tightens.
“Who told you something was going on?” he asks, tone calm.
“Well, your mom let slip that something happened, Adriano said you guys were best friends long before she started dating Ambrose, and Augustus may have mentioned that she’s the girl you’re obsessed with,” I ramble suddenly, feeling like I should’ve probably kept this to myself.
“ Cazzo ,” he whispers. “I’m not obsessed with her…at least not anymore.”
As the words hang in the air, I find myself struggling to find the correct words to navigate the situation.
“Are you okay? I didn’t mean to pry, I—”
“It’s okay, you would’ve found out eventually. The earlier, the better, I guess,” he says before taking in a deep breath, exhaling it in an equally dramatic manner.
If this was just some little crush, then why does it seem to be affecting him this badly?
“Val and I went to high school together. We instantly hit it off and became practically inseparable. She was the only person who treated me the same when my family’s business took off and became what we are today. It felt like she always saw the real me, not the perfect version I let the world see.”
So clearly, this Mr. Perfect persona is something that’s followed him around for a long time. “Why do you always feel like you have to be perfect?”
The corner of his mouth lifts, but it doesn’t meet his eyes. “Can we deal with one very emotional discussion at a time, please?”
“Fair enough, continue.”
“I always had feelings for her. She, however, always had a crush on Ambrose. It seemed innocent, and I’d always tease her about it since he never reciprocated it. When we graduated, I decided I’d finally try and pursue her, but then my father started getting me more and more involved in Vitale Holdings, and Valerie left for Paris. So everything kind of got put on hold.”
“Wait, Valerie came to Paris? For how long?”
He looks over at me again, eyebrows furrowed now.
“Six years.”
Another deep breath from Antonio, and I settle more into my chair, suddenly very interested in this story.
“She eventually came home to take care of her father, who was going in for a few surgeries, and our paths crossed again. She ran into a bit of financial trouble, and I offered her a job at Vitale Holdings—but it was as Ambrose’s assistant. In hindsight, I should’ve seen this all coming since Ambrose’s first assistant ‘quit’ after sleeping with Ambrose.”
My eyes fly open in surprise as the story takes a very interesting turn.
“To make a painfully long story short, Valerie was on the run from her ex-husband, and she ran straight into Ambrose’s arms since he was shipping me off around the world to deal with investor problems that he caused with his international playboy reputation. They got together, and I found out in an interesting way.”
“Wait, wait, wait. Valerie was married ?”
His jaw clenches repeatedly, and his grip tightens once again.
“Valerie was married to Mattheo.”
“Mattheo? Mattheo Auclair ? My uncle?” My brows furrow, and I sit upright. None of this is making any sense.
He simply nods his head, his glance shifting between the road and me repeatedly.
“So you’re telling me Valerie was married to my uncle for years, and I had no idea?”
“Apparently, not many people did other than your father,” he says.
Then the realisation hits. “Ambrose killed Mattheo?”
“Not quite…”
His eyes meet mine this time, and a shudder runs down my spine. “ You? What? Why?” The words come rushing out as I try to form some semblance in my head.
Antonio swallows so loudly I can almost hear it next to the sound of the roaring engine. “He was emotionally and verbally abusing Valerie for years. She got caught up in some of his business and even got tossed out of a moving car, where she broke her jaw. Anyway, ironically, killing him wasn’t for Valerie in the end, but those reasons sure did help. He had a gun pointed at Ambrose, so I did what any younger brother would to protect their older brother.”
I stay silent, letting what he just told me process. That does sound about right for Mattheo. Even though I didn’t know he was married, I’d seen him around enough women to know that he had no idea how to treat them right. Very similar to my father, except at least my father would rather ignore a woman’s existence than degrade her.
“I feel like I should say I’m sorry for killing your uncle, but I’d be lying if I did. I’m not sorry,” he says.
“Don’t be. For what he did to Valerie alone, I’m almost glad you did it. Someone had to.”
“You’re not upset?” His head spins in my direction again.
“No. I grew up around this sort of thing, so as sad as it is to say, I’m desensitised to it all. Is it a bit uncomfortable to know my husband has killed someone? Yes. But knowing you did it to protect your family makes it slightly less uncomfortable in a way. That, and Mattheo and I never got along. He always had a very creepy air about him that I never liked, so I always steered clear whenever he was around.”
He nods again as his shoulders slump. Even though he says he’s not sorry, it’s clear he’s still been carrying around the guilt of killing another human being for a while.
“You don’t seem like the type,” I say, voicing my thoughts aloud.
“The type to commit a murder?” he asks through a chuckle.
“The type to lose his cool,” I correct, and suddenly his joking air turns serious again. “Or is that another side people never get to see?”
“I’m generally very calm, but everyone has their limit.”
“Finding out my sister was dating the guy I had a crush on for years would’ve been my limit, yet you’re almost loyal to a fault when it comes to them. Why?”
“Loyalty is what makes us family,” he says.
“Why did you agree to all of this then?” I counter.
“Like you said, I’m loyal to a fault, and your father threatened my family. I couldn’t let anything happen to them.”
Oh, how lucky you must be to have someone this loyal to you. To love you so much that they’d do anything to protect you. To be so selfless, putting their wants and needs on hold for others. To prioritise their family over themselves.
It’s the complete opposite of anything I’ve ever known since my mother passed away. A part of me can’t help but wonder how far he’d go for them.
“You’d do anything to protect them, wouldn’t you?” I ask, voicing my rather depressing as it voices thoughts aloud.
“I married you, didn’t I?” he asks with nothing but seriousness in his tone.
I turn, ready to blurt out an array of insults, but when my eyes land on his bright grin, I know the idiot is fucking with me. We both burst out laughing.
“You’re loyal to a fault, and it’ll be your greatest downfall.” I chuckle and shake my head.
“Wouldn’t you do this if someone was threatening your family?” he asks.
“I married you, didn’t I?” I fire back. “But all things considered, I’m only truly loyal to a few people, and it’s only the ones where I know the loyalty is reciprocated.”
“Come on, it can’t be that bad. I know your dad and Kylian are assholes, but what about your mom?”
As soon as the words leave his lips, it feels as if ice water has been thrown over me. Her death, although it was nearly thirteen years ago, feels fresher than hearing about Mattheo.
“She died. About thirteen years ago.”
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know,” he rushes out, eyes flashing between the road and me.
I shrug. “It’s okay, I guess. My father didn’t exactly give you an instruction manual, and he doesn’t speak about her ever, so you wouldn’t have known.”
“I probably could’ve brought the topic up a bit better.” He runs a hand through his hair.
“It’s okay, really. And to answer your question. I would give my life for her. So I guess I could be loyal to a fault in that case, too.” I smile, but it barely reaches my eyes.
I’d give my life to have her back for even a few hours.
“I think it would be nice to just be someone’s first thought for once,” he admits softly, and I wonder if it’s even meant for me to hear. “To have someone be this loyal to me in return,” he finishes.
My heart genuinely feels like it’s cracking open, because not only can I relate to what he’s feeling, but I find myself wanting that more and more in my own family.
“You’re not an afterthought, you deserve to be someone’s first choice,” I say. “We both do.”
He nods, eyes fixed on the last stretch of road as we finally reach Monte Carlo.
“You’ll never feel like an afterthought around me, even if this is fake,” he says as we arrive outside a large skyscraper. He gets out of the car and hands the key over to the valet.
I’m frozen in my seat; no one has ever wanted to make me feel important since my mom. And no matter how fake this might be, I find myself wanting to do the same for him, or at least hoping I can.