Chapter 40 #2
“I’m not used to walking into a room and everyone looking at me.” I’ve always been the Irish girl who sits in the back, and no one sees, but now everyone knows me, and I’m finding it uncomfortable.
He chuckles, low and dark. “You should, you’re mine now.”
A flicker of something cuts through the noise. I glance up and see him. Conor. Across the room. Still as stone. His jaw locked, his eyes burning. His fists clenched at his sides like he’s holding back a storm.
I turn away. I’m not afraid of him anymore, but there is a part of me which thought he would have tried to protect me. I was wrong.
We step further inside, onto the floor. Students begin to clear a space, giving the Messina name the respect, or fear, it commands.
Matteo leans in again, voice like gravel and smoke. “We make them nervous.” I know he’s trying to make me feel better but it’s not helping.
I glance around, watching the ripple of tension around us. The whispers have stopped. Silence now blooms in our wake. I try to focus on the music around us.
His hand finds mine, lacing our fingers together. “Let’s dance, little lamb. Let’s show them what war looks like when it’s dressed in red.” He winks, and it makes me smile, shaking my head at him. He will do anything to make me smile, and I never want him to stop.
Under the glow of shattered chandeliers, in the center of the ballroom floor, surrounded by ghosts and enemies, I dance with the devil who saved me.
For the first time in my life, I feel power behind my name. Not my family name, but my name, Aoife.
The music shifts.
Strings slice through the air like blades, sharp and haunting, the kind of waltz that doesn’t ask you to dance but dares you to survive it.
Matteo moves first, his hand slides from the small of my back to my waist, the other lifting my fingers, guiding me into the storm. I follow because I don’t know how not to.
Every step is deliberate. Every turn choreographed by something older than us, rage, legacy, loyalty… and love.
His eyes never leave mine. Even when the room spins, even when my heels drag slightly across the waxed floor. He doesn’t let me fall.
“Breathe,” he whispers.
“I am.”
“You’re trembling.”
“Maybe I like dancing with danger.”
His lips curl into a smirk that’s pure sin. “Then you’ve chosen the right partner.” He leans down and gives me a kiss, again something I never want him to stop.
“So, you can dance?” I ask.
“I’m a very talented person, you’ll learn that sooner or later.” He winks and quickly scans the room before looking back at me. “Honestly, I’m not that good, Milo now, he can dance.”
Not that good, he’s moving like he knows he looks sexy while dancing, and so if this is not good, I need to see Milo dancing.
I look around to see if I can spot Milo, and I smile when he’s dancing with someone I don’t know, but it’s smooth. He spins the girl around under his arm, and without breaking movement he’s into the next step. Well, the brothers are very smooth, I can say that.
Then I can feel it, the air, charged like lightning crawling just beneath the skin. Eyes are on us, but for the first time, I don’t shrink beneath them.
Let them look. Let them see. Let them remember the girl in red, who danced with the son of a mafia king and didn’t flinch.
The tempo shifts again, faster now.
Matteo spins me out, then back into his chest, his hand gripping tighter. The moment our bodies press together, something cracks open inside me. A breath I didn’t realize I was holding escapes.
He leans down, his mouth near my neck. “They’re still watching.”
“Let them.”
“I want to kiss you,” he growls softly. “Right here, in front of them all.”
“What’s stopping you?”
His hand slides up my spine, and I feel his restraint tremble. “Not you.”
“Then don’t hold back.”
He spins me again, the heat between us nearly combusting, and when I land against him this time, his mouth captures mine.
It’s not soft.
It’s not gentle.
It’s a claim.
A cry disguised as a kiss, and when his lips crush into mine, the music vanishes. The world dissolves. All that exists is Matteo and the fire he sets alight in every part of me.
Gasps ripple across the ballroom.
His teeth graze my bottom lip, and he pulls back just enough to whisper, “You're mine now, little lamb. There’s no hiding.”
“I’m not hiding…anymore.”
“Good.”
His forehead presses to mine, breathless, tense, trembling with emotion. “Because I swear to God, if they ever try to take you from me—”
“They won’t.”
He doesn’t reply. But his eyes say everything, that if they did, he’d burn the world to ashes before letting them win.
As the music ends, the final note echoing like a warning, we don’t move.
The dance might be over.
I’m still breathless from the kiss.
The kind that makes your bones ache and your skin hum. The kind that says this is it, you’ve crossed the line and there’s no going back.
Matteo’s hand is warm on my lower back, fingers splayed possessively as he moves us through the second dance. This one is softer, slower. We move in rhythm with each other, laughing beneath our breath, our bodies fluid like the song was written just for us.
“I didn’t know you could smile like that, you look beautiful,” he murmurs.
“Don’t get used to it.”
He chuckles, lips brushing my temple.
For a few stolen seconds, the rest of the world dissolves.
But then something feels different in his touch.
It’s subtle at first. The tightening of his jaw. The way his grip on my waist firms just enough to make me look up.
His eyes are scanning the crowd now, sharp and calculating, no longer looking at me, but through everyone else.
“Smile, don’t—” He coughs, and I try to take a step back but he holds me there. “Don’t move.” His voice is hard, but his whole body is tense. Yet he has a smile on his face, as we continue to dance.
Before I can reply, he leans in, lips brushing my ear, voice a breath of smoke and steel.
“Stay calm and smile.” His voice is breaking as he talks.
The warning rattles through me like ice water. I force my lips into a soft curve.
“What is it?” I whisper, my voice dry. I look up at him, and he closes his eyes for a moment and takes in a deep breath. He’s scaring me.
“We’re leaving the center,” he says smoothly, guiding us toward the edge of the ballroom, steps still in time with the music, like nothing is wrong.
But something is wrong.
I feel it.
“Milo,” he says suddenly.
I blink, and his brother is there, walking beside us like he’s always been part of the dance.
“I’ve been stabbed,” Matteo says under his breath.
My blood freezes.
“What?!” I hiss, trying to turn toward him, but Matteo pulls me back, not wanting anyone to see that something is wrong.
“Don’t,” he says. “Eyes are on us.”
I look around. No chaos. No screams. Just laughter. Music. Champagne.
Milo looks around, but my eyes are on Matteo who’s starting to sweat, his fingers tapping on my waist. His jaw is clenched as if he’s grinding his teeth to stop the pain.
“We need…we need to get out of here,” Matteo tells Milo, who is still looking around the hall.
Milo’s eyes lock with Matteo’s. “Do you know who?” he asks.
“No, we were dancing, talking, there were people around us, Irish, Russians. My money is on the Irish,” Matteo mutters.
Matteo grips me tighter.
“I need you to keep smiling, little lamb,” he says.
“But—”
“I swear to you it will be fine. Just smile until we’re through the door.”
He doesn’t let me go, even as Milo tells him he’s getting Marco and Rosa.
I’ve never felt less in control.
As we near the doors, Marco and Rosa appear beside us.
“Matteo—”
“Smile little lamb,” he whispers.
I would if he didn’t looks so fucked up right now.
“Milo, something is wrong—”
“Yeah, he’s been fucking stabbed,” Milo snaps.
“No, like something else. He’s sweating to the point I can feel it on my hand.” I take my hand off his back so Milo can see.
“Shit,” he whispers and looks at Marco and they both shake their heads.
“You get him to the dorm, I’ll get Leo.” Marco walks away with Rosa next to him, and I look at Milo.
“He’s shaking, Milo,” I tell him, and he stands behind Matteo as the door closes behind us, and Milo power walks down the corridor.
“Matteo, fight this, and fucking help me get you back to the dorm,” Milo shouts at him, now that we’re out of sight of anyone seeing us.
My heart is pounding, and the first tear escapes my eyes. I've never seen Matteo lose anything, but tonight I’m scared, because I could see it on Marco’s and Milo’s faces. Something is wrong.