Chapter Fifty
Valentina
M atteo and I were never really a secret. His numerous and ostentatious displays of jealousy made keeping our relationship under wraps impossible. Key members of the Famiglia knew, as did the dancers and most of the VIP regulars, and yet we never openly flaunted the fact that we were together.
So the overnight change in how he flaunts our relationship is a shock, although not an unwelcome one. Matteo can’t keep his hands off me in public. His palm either warms the small of my back, curls around my waist, or, his favorite, entwines with mine. It’s like refusing to hold his hand at the beginning of our relationship unleashed a monster, one that can only be tamed by the joining of our hands.
No matter where we are, I’m not allowed to sit anywhere but on his lap. It’s been inappropriate numerous times, including at his father’s funeral when he refused to have me sit on the pew beside him, but I can’t even pretend not to love his obsession with me.
It’s returned a million-fold, more than Matteo could ever imagine. I’ve become dependent on him in a way that feels unhealthy. Even as I realize how deeply enmeshed I am with my fiancé, I can’t do anything to resist the pull to go deeper still. The shackles previously wrapped around my heart have dropped and I’m finally free to feel .
Feel it all, and there’s so much love there.
He doesn’t seem to regret his decision to give up the Famiglia . I constantly watch him when we’re at Firenze with Enzo like we are now, but his face betrays no signs of distress. He seems happy with the role reversal, content to be an advisor to his cousin.
Their relationship is incredibly important to Matteo. I’m convinced it’s because it was Enzo who was next in line to be Don that the decision wasn’t painful for him. There’s no one else he’d have moved aside for.
Enzo, meanwhile, is trying to find his footing. He was used to being Matteo’s shadow, the one who operated and struck from the sides. Finding himself thrust onto center stage with the Famiglia to run and a fiancée to marry has certainly been a moment of adaptation for him. He’s done well in only a matter of days, but he seems distracted.
“What’s on your mind?” Matteo asks his cousin, somehow reading my thoughts.
I press a kiss to his cheek in silent reward for his question and Matteo growls happily. His hands tighten around my waist and pull me further on his lap.
Like I said, I’m not allowed to sit anywhere else.
“Nothing,” Enzo grunts, shuffling papers in front of him. “I’m annoyed. We just got notice that Firenze needs to close for the day Monday for a mandatory inspection.”
“And that’s the source of your bad mood… why , exactly?”
“Who says I’m in a bad mood?” he snaps.
“The fact that you’re frowning so much your brows are just about level with your lips,” I explain.
Enzo grumbles moodily in response. He’s been like this for a couple of days and no one can figure out why.
The half dozen guards stationed around the room shift uneasily. Enzo likes to work his frustrations out with his fists, usually dragging a poor, unsuspecting lower guard to serve as his… well, some would say his opponents, I would call them his punching bags.
“Maybe it’s because your fiancé left me half a dozen category five shitstorms to deal with.”
Instead of taking offense, Matteo tips his head back against his chair. His lids turn heavy. A serene calm bleeds into his gaze as his lips stretch into an easy smile.
“That’s me,” he murmurs.
I nod confidently. “You, Phantom.”
Our lips come together in a long, languid kiss. Matteo’s hand finds my neck and he pulls me closer.
We break apart only when Enzo makes a disgusted noise. “You’re so obviously happy with your decision that I can’t even try to make you feel bad for it. Do me a favor and take the lovey dovey shit elsewhere.”
Matteo laughs, his eyes twinkling with love as he looks up at me. “I’m sorry, cugino , I can’t hide it.”
Enzo rolls his eyes.
He reaches for his phone when it dings , then quietly reads the message.
“No sighting of Adriana,” he says, putting his phone down. “Or Guido.”
Matteo squeezes my side comfortingly. He doesn’t need to—we’re going to find her, I know it. It’s just a matter of when. I haven’t told Thiago or our father that she survived the night of her kidnapping. I don’t want to give them false hope, but until she’s found I’ll keep holding out hope that she’s still alive.
Guido, on the other hand, I’m more concerned about. He’s a loose end and not one I think will disappear quietly.
Matteo is less worried. He’s had men outside his apartment since the night we rescued Aurora, and Guido hasn’t been back.
“I think he’s left London,” Matteo assures me. “He would have been spotted by now if he was still here.”
“I–”
Matteo will never know what I was about to say because at that precise moment, the double doors of the VIP room burst open.
It’s three pm on a Saturday and broad daylight. The club doesn’t open for another six hours so this arrival is unexpected, to say the least.
A woman bursts through in a tornado of color. She’s wearing the kind of outfit that only someone with unparalleled confidence can pull off, and she does. Everything about the way she carries herself draws the eye to her.
She’s magnetic.
It’s because of that pull that I look at her face and immediately recognize her. It takes me long seconds to process her presence. Seeing her at Firenze doesn’t make sense, but I can’t arrange my thoughts quickly enough to call out her name and ask her why she’s here.
Dagny storms in with a face like thunder, long legs wrapped in strappy heels moving with absolute determination as she crosses the room.
She doesn’t stop.
She strides right up to Enzo, draws her arm back and slaps him clean across the face.
The shock forces a loud gasp from my lips.
Guns are immediately drawn, including Matteo’s.
I’m jostled as he jumps to his feet, holding me at his hip with one hand while the other points his weapon at Dagny.
Instinct makes me react. With a cry, I shove his arm down, aiming the gun away from her. I can’t call her my friend just yet, but I have a feeling that’s what we’re going to be. And since she’s already been shot by one friend’s Underworld husband, I’m not about to make that count two.
It turns out, I don’t need to react.
The second Enzo hears the sounds of guns being unholstered and safeties being disengaged, he throws himself in front of her. His arms fling to either side of him as he shields her with his body.
“Lower your fucking weapons!” he roars over his shoulder.
His face is twisted in anger, but it’s not directed at her. It’s aimed at his men, promising the kind of deadly reprisals that makes them openly shake in fear now.
“Point your guns at her again and your own mothers won’t recognize your bodies after I’m done with you.”
The words explode out of Enzo with such impassioned vitriol, they freeze me in place. I’m not the only one who reacts. I feel Matteo stiffen against me, clearly as confused by what’s happening here as I am.
“And you ,” Enzo starts, turning his black gaze towards Dagny. She doesn’t falter, jerking her chin insolently up at him instead. “You’ll pay for that.”
“ Fuck ,” Dagny hisses at him, her teeth clenched so violently together, they look like they might shatter. “ You .”
Enzo’s mouth stretches into a dark, humorless smirk.
“Dagny?” I say, hesitantly.
Three pairs of eyes fly to my face.
“Valentina?” she replies, her anger draining instantly. Enzo’s gaze cuts back to Dagny.
“You know her?” Matteo asks at the same time.
“What are you doing here?” she adds, ignoring both men.
I throw the question back at her with a disbelieving chuckle. “Uh, what are you doing here?”
Enzo grasps Dagny’s wrist, his eyes flashing. “You girls can reunite later. It’s time for us to settle our differences, don’t you think?”
“Get. Off. Me ,” Dagny yells, attacking his hands to try and free herself as he drags her out of the VIP room.
I lift a foot but Matteo’s hand closes around my upper arms. I look up at him and find his gaze pinned on his friend’s retreating back. Finally, he flicks a look down at me.
“Don’t even think about intervening.”
“Why not? You don’t have any idea what’s going on either, do you?”
“No,” he answers. Then his eyes slide back up to the double doors swinging closed behind Enzo and Dagny, and he smirks. “And yet, I do.”
???
On Monday afternoon, I’m in the car on the way to Firenze when I decide to call Enzo. Neither Matteo nor I have seen him since he stormed out with Dagny in tow a couple of days ago. I’m dying to know what that whole interaction was about, but I don’t want to text her and pry.
“ Pronto ,” Enzo answers gruffly.
“What the hell was that slap about?” I say, getting straight to the point.
“Hello to you too, Valentina. I had a great weekend, thank you for asking.”
I roll my eyes. “We can talk about your lack of weekend plans after we discuss why you dragged Dagny out of the club the last time I saw you.”
“How do you know her?” There’s a frustrated yet urgent undertone to his voice that I’ve never heard before.
“We’ve crossed paths before,” I answer cryptically. “Is she your ex?”
He hisses down the phone. “What makes you think that?”
“Touchy,” I note, teasing him.
“Valentina—”
“That wasn’t a slap between strangers,” I explain. “That was a slap between two people who’ve slept together.”
Silence.
“Enzo?”
“She’s not my ex.”
“How is that possible?” I frown. “Your engagement to Marina was announced, if Dagny isn’t your ex—” My features smooth out in realization. “Enzo, what did you do?”
More silence.
“Don’t tell me you’re sleeping with her currently .” I groan. “What is up with you and your cousin starting things when you’re at your most unavailable? Does she know?”
“Why do you think she slapped me?” he mutters.
I park and exit my car, slamming the door shut behind me as I position the phone between my ear and shoulder.
“Well, unfortunately, I really like her so whenever we hang out and she tells me the full story, I’m afraid I’m going to have to take her side.”
“What? That’s not fair.” I can hear him shift on the other end as he blurts his indignation. “I’ve looked out for you.”
“It isn't fair, but it’s girl code. Lo siento ,” I say, locking the car and heading down the alley towards the back entrance.
“You—” he exclaims before cutting off abruptly. “Your fiancée,” he says, answering a question I can’t hear. His voice is quieter, his face likely turned away from the phone. “I didn’t call her, she’s the one calling to bust my balls. Believe me I want to be talking to her about as much as you want me to.”
“Rude,” I chirp, before frowning. “Is that Matteo?”
“Your controlling ass fiancé wants to know where you are and why you’re not—” There’s a roughly whispered curse in Italian, and then he says, “I’m not repeating that nasty shit Matteo, call her yourself.”
“Wait, what do you mean?” I stop in my tracks, ten meters from the door. “I’m about to meet Matteo at Firenze .”
The good natured humor in Enzo’s tone vanishes. “What?”
“He texted me and asked me to meet him here,” I explain. “I thought it had to do with the inspection.”
There’s a scuffle on the other end and then Matteo is on the phone. The urgency in his tone freezes the blood in my veins. “Valentina. Run .”
The smile slides off my face. “Matteo?”
“Run, Valentina. Run no—”
I don’t hear his next words.
A branch snaps behind me. I whip around.
The last thing I see is a massive fist flying towards my face and then the world goes black.