Chapter 6
Present
Upper East Side, New York City
MARIA FUSSED OVER THE TEA tray in front of us, cheeks faintly flushed as though she’d already apologized three times.
“I’m sorry,” she said again, smoothing a linen napkin that didn’t need smoothing.
“This isn’t nearly as… Polished as Silvia’s setup.
Zach doesn’t have those bone teapots or the little plates with lace edges.
He’s been resting, and – well…” She glanced toward the hallway, where the bedroom door was cracked just enough for the sound of his even breathing to drift out.
My mother reached across the table, taking Maria’s hand in hers. She wore cream silk today, elegant and effortless, the kind of grace that could hush a room without a single word. Everyone loved my mother. It was impossible not to.
“Maria, cara,” She said with that lilting warmth that always managed to soften hard edges, “This is perfect. He is alive. He is home. That is what matters.”
We’d shown up kind of uninvited, just to check on how they were doing.
Maria smiled, gratitude swimming behind her eyes. She pressed her fingers lightly against the rim of her teacup, as though grounding herself.
We sipped in silence for a moment – the delicate scent of chamomile curling upward, blending with the faint smoke of vanilla candles Maria had set on the window ledge. Outside, Manhattan pulsed with its restless heartbeat.
Then my mother’s gaze sharpened – kind, but curious, as she tilted her head slightly toward Maria.
“So…” She began, lips curved into a knowing smile. “You and Zach are back together?”
“Yes,” Maria said quietly. “We, uh… Worked out our issues.”
Silvia’s smile only widened, soft and certain. “I knew you would.”
Maria let out a small laugh, though it was fragile around the edges. “Turns out it wasn’t as big as we both made it out to be.”
“Well,” my mother said, lifting her cup with a glint of mischief, “Sometimes love makes mountains out of pebbles. And pebbles out of mountains.” She winked.
Maria laughed again, freer this time. “That… Might be the wisest thing I’ve ever heard actually.”
“She does that,” I said, leaning back into the sofa cushions. “You should hear her when she’s drunk.”
“Francesca!” My mother gasped, feigning offense. But her eyes glittered, and Maria giggled into her teacup.
The hour unraveled gently after that – light conversation braided with heavier threads. The city had dimmed further when Maria and I rose to escort Silvia to the private elevator. Her security detail was already waiting, suits sharp, eyes scanning even though the building was a fortress.
My mother kissed my cheek first, then Maria’s, whispering something only she could make sound like both blessing and command: Take care of each other.
The elevator doors closed behind her with a soft sigh, leaving us in the muted glow of the corridor.
Maria turned to me with a small, tired smile. “You’re staying, right?”
I nodded with a smile. “Sleepover. Just like old times.”
The penthouse was awash in low light, warm golden pools from the sconces that softened the sharp edges of glass and steel.
The city glittered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, skyscrapers rising like jeweled obelisks against the ink-black sky.
We were sprawled across the massive sectional, cocooned in blankets, empty wine glasses scattered on the table with a half-finished bowl of popcorn.
Maria had moved her life into Zach’s penthouse, and you could feel her touch everywhere – candles on the window ledge, fluffy blankets on the sofa, fresh flowers in a vase by the kitchen island.
It was softer now. Warmer. Like she’d breathed a little bit of her soul into all the corners he’d once left bare.
We were laughing about something Natalia had said when the sound of footsteps pulled our attention to the hallway.
Zach appeared, one hand braced against the wall, his dark hair messy from sleep. He looked healthy but stubborn, like he’d dragged himself out of bed just to prove a point.
“How’s the party?” He asked, voice still rough with sleep.
Maria shot up instantly, eyes wide. “Babe! You shouldn’t be standing.”
“The doctor said I can walk around after three weeks,” Zach said, like the stubborn kid I grew up knowing.
“Still,” Maria countered, her hands reaching out before she made it to him.
He grinned, the kind that made me smile just watching the two of them together. “Hermosa, I’m fine.”
Maria shook her head, lips pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Please. For me. It’ll make me feel calmer.”
Zach’s expression softened, and he gave in, just like that. Zach never gave in. “Alright, alright.”
She walked with him to the couch where us the girls sat, moving carefully. He lowered himself between Natalia and me, exhaling like the act of sitting was more exhausting than he’d admit.
“I’ll get you something to eat, okay?” Maria said, running her nails through his hair before turning toward the kitchen.
“Thank you, mi amor,” He replied, eyes following her like gravity.
I scrunched my nose at him after taking a look at his patched-up wounds. “How are you, bro?”
“Good,” he said simply.
Natalia reached over to pat his shoulder gently, her bracelets clinking. “That good, huh?”
Kali arched a brow, skeptical as ever. “For real.”
“Really,” Zach insisted. “Doctor says I’m healing just fine. So all good. Plus,” He raised his voice deliberately, turning toward the kitchen. “I got the most amazing girl taking care of me.”
From the island, Maria glanced back, a wooden spoon in her hand as steam rose from the pot she was stirring. Her smile was small but real. “Then you should listen to this amazing girl and take it slow.”
Zach’s grin softened. “Yes, baby. I will.”
“Love you,” Maria said with a smirk, before turning back to the soup.
“Love you more,” Zach replied, wide smile splitting his tired face.
The rest of us? We might as well have vanished. The city glittered. The candles burned low. And for a rare moment, even with bandages and scars, the world felt whole.
The private elevator chimed low, the sound echoing in the quiet hum of the penthouse. The four of us of the couch exchanged glances, wondering whether anyone knew who it could be.
Then the doors slid open.
And Matteo stepped inside like he owned the building. His presence filled the room before his voice did – broad shoulders wrapped in black, dark eyes sharper than the skyline behind him.
I pretended not to look. Pretended my pulse hadn’t skipped. Pretended I wasn’t hyper-aware of every movement he made – the sound of his shoes against the polished floor, the way he adjusted his jacket before his gaze swept the room.
And then landed on me.
Just for a second. A knowing look. Nothing more.
But my breath hitched anyway, and I hated myself for it.
“What are you doing here, man?” Zach asked, a flicker of surprise in his voice. Not warm surprise either. Their relationship was… Complicated.
Maria stepped away from the open-kitchen. “I called him.”
Matteo stepped further into the penthouse with that unhurried grace of his. “Thought I’d keep you company while the girls hang out. We could play some video games, watch the new DC movie… Or one of those nature documentaries you like. Play cards. Whatever you want, bro.”
The silence stretched, a thin wire pulled taut between them.
I watched Zach’s blank stare – hard, unreadable – shift to Maria’s hopeful smile. Finally, he nodded. “Alright. Yeah, sure.”
Maria’s shoulders relaxed, and the air in the room seemed lighter.
Mine didn’t.
Because every second Matteo stood there, his presence burned against my skin like a secret.
And I had to remind myself – over and over again – that he had to be some kind of asshole.
Because if even his own brother didn’t want him around, then what the hell was wrong with me for being excited he was there?