92. Chapter Ninety-Two
Chapter Ninety-Two
Mateo
“ M aximo, you devil,” I greet my cousin as he exits the armored SUV, pulling him into a tight hug and slapping his back.
“Teo,” he responds just as eagerly, stepping back to give me a once-over. His sharp gaze narrows before he smirks. “You look like shit.”
“Gee, thanks, man. Tell it like it is, will you?”
“You know I always will.”
Shaking my head with a chuckle, I turn to Aldo Marino, his family’s consigliere, and clasp his hand in a firm shake. “Aldo. Good to see you again.”
“Mateo. My condolences.” His nod is respectful, his eyes knowing.
Max and I walk side by side into the house.
“I hate that my visit is under these circumstances,” he says, his voice sincere. “When I got your call, I barely believed it. I’m just glad we can also celebrate something happy.” His grin returns, bright and mischievous. “Rom filled me in on the way from the airport. You got married.” He claps me on the back, shaking his head. “Unbelievable. Mateo De Marco, a married man.”
“Yeah, I did,” I reply, and despite the sad reason for his visit, I can’t help the way my chest swells with pride. “Mari is amazing. Come on, I want you to meet her.”
We step out onto the terrace, where the remnants of lunch still litter the table. Laughter floats from the garden like music.
Mari and her sisters are playing badminton, their carefree joy infectious and making me smile. The dogs Tiero once gave to Ella snooze under the shade of a tree, utterly undisturbed by the chaos of the game.
I pause, drinking in the sight of my wife, barefoot, her hair tumbling down her back, her laughter ringing out as she leaps to return a shot.
“That beauty serving right now is my wife, Mariella,” I say, my voice tinged with pure, unfiltered affection, something I rarely let others see. Calling her my wife still sends a thrill through me.
Max whistles low. “Damn, Teo, you did well.”
His gaze sharpens as he tracks Mari’s younger sister. His usual casual smirk fades into something… calculating.
“And the other girls?” he asks, though I can already sense where this is going.
“The one playing with Mari is Isabella, the oldest Accardi daughter. The other is Mia, one of her younger sisters.”
He hums, eyes still locked on Mia. “Who’s responsible for them now?”
I tear my gaze away from Mari to glare at him. “They’re under my protection. Why?”
He grins. “Now that I’m about to become Don, I need a wife. And she is marriage material. Just look at her. She’s beautiful. And she’s young enough to bear me at least half a dozen heirs.”
I choke out a laugh. “Half a dozen? Jesus, man. We’re talking about a woman here, not breeding cattle.”
He shrugs. “It’s practical. Keep the bloodline strong. Keep all main positions within the family.”
“And that’s why my answer is no. Mia deserves more than that. She and her sisters have been through enough. They deserve to be happy.”
“She wouldn’t be unhappy,” he counters. “She’d be well looked after.”
“No,” I repeat firmly. “Besides, I know your sexual appetite and the shit you’re into. That alone is enough for me to refuse.”
Max chuckles, shaking his head. “You and Tiero with your hopeless romantic bullshit. Love, partnership, devotion.” He waves a dismissive hand. “That’s not for me. I don’t need distractions. I need stability, heirs, and a wife who understands her role.”
“That’s why I say no.”
We lapse into silence, watching as the game continues.
“Two against one isn’t fair,” Mia protests, chasing the shuttlecock before it hits the ground.
Isabella grins. “It is when you’re the reigning family champion and have been undefeated for months.”
To my utter shock, Max shrugs off his jacket, tosses it onto a chair, and strides toward the lawn. Without hesitation, he grabs the spare racket and twirls it in his hand.
“Can’t have you fighting this battle on your own,” he tells Mia, winking at her.
Mia blinks, momentarily caught off guard, before narrowing her eyes. “You any good?”
Max smirks. “I guess you’ll find out.”
I shake my head, watching the scene unfold. This just got interesting.
I roll the cufflinks of my shirt between my fingers as Mari and I sit in the back of the SUV that’s taking us to Tiero’s mansion for tonight’s memorial service. They’re engraved with a roaring lion. Tiero’s. Same as the tiepin I chose for tonight.
Wearing these small possessions of my brother makes me feel closer to him, even though the weight of his absence never lifts.
I dread tonight as much as I appreciate the turnout. So many have traveled far to honor him, a testament to his impact. My throat tightens. I need a distraction before grief pulls me under.
“Have I told you how stunning you look tonight?” I lean in, my lips brushing just below Mari’s ear before trailing down her throat.
She smiles, her laughter a soft melody. “Many times.”
Her hand presses against my chest, stopping me. “You can’t ruin my makeup or hair. Mamma spent hours getting me ready. I’m nervous as it is. I need this armor meeting the elite of Mafia society and your extended family.”
“Everybody will show you nothing but respect. You’re the queen of the castle now.”
“That’s exactly why they’ll watch me… to judge.” Her voice dips into uncertainty. “What if I don’t live up to their expectations?”
“You exceed mine, dolcezza . I don’t give a damn what anyone else thinks. All that matters is that I love you.”
Her smile is soft, the kind that lights up my entire world. I want to kiss her, to pull her in and keep her safe from everything. But to honor her wishes, I instead unbuckle her seatbelt and draw her onto my lap. She lets out a small sigh, melting into my embrace.
“I wish we could skip tonight,” I admit. “Just escape to Tuscany. Only you and me. Leave all this chaos behind, the politics, the power plays, and this never-ending grief.”
“I’d be up for that,” she murmurs. Her fingers tighten slightly against my chest. “I miss you when we’re not together. I hate what this life is doing to you, to us.”
It’s the first time she’s voiced it. While I feel the same, hearing it from her lips hurts in a way I wasn’t prepared for. I want to give her happiness, and right now, I’m failing.
The car slows to a stop.
I haven’t set foot in Tiero’s mansion since we returned to Sicily. I couldn’t. The memories here are too strong. But tonight, I have no choice but to face them.
I press a kiss to Mari’s nose, lingering for a brief moment before pulling away.
“Let’s go greet our guests and get this night over with.”
For the past two hours, I’ve done nothing but shake hands, accept condolences, and talk about alliances, positioning, and how to maximize profits.
I’m sick of it.
It’s a memorial for my brother, yet half the people here treat it like a goddamn networking event. They murmur their sympathies, but their eyes gleam with calculation. Tiero’s death created a tear in the fabric, and everyone wants to know how I intend to fill it.
I glance across the room, my gaze landing on Mari. She’s trapped in her own version of this nightmare, her shoulders squared, her chin high, exuding the grace and strength expected of her. That polite smile she wears, though? Fake.
Her mother stands beside her, guiding her through this sea of influential women. Wives, daughters, sisters of men who wield power in our world. They circle Mari like sharks scenting blood, assessing her, testing her. I see it in their narrowed eyes, in the way they lean in too closely, murmuring words I wish I could hear.
She handles it well. Too well.
That’s what worries me.
She hates this, yet she plays the role flawlessly. How much of herself is she losing in the process?
The thought unsettles me more than it should.
I need a fucking break.
Without a word, I slip away, stepping onto the terrace. The cold air bites at my skin, a welcome contrast to the suffocating heat inside. Thankfully, the terrace is empty. No fake smiles, no political games, no expectations.
I exhale slowly, staring through the glass doors at the room full of people. My people. At least, that’s what they’re supposed to be.
But how many of them can I actually trust?
As long as the De Marcos are powerful, they’ll stand beside me. But that’s not true loyalty, is it? It’s self-serving.
They came here tonight to honor Tiero, the great and ruthless leader. But this past week has shown me more than ever I’m not him.
Do I even want to be?
Tiero never wanted me to follow in his footsteps. He encouraged me to be my own man, to use my strengths. He and Rom liked to tease me about my obsession with efficiency, about my preference for strategy over brute force, but Tiero respected it. He saw value in it. Most others don’t.
His words from the hospital echo in my mind, haunting me ever since Mari and I returned from our mini honeymoon.
“Teo, there’s more to life than upholding somebody else’s vision. Have you ever asked yourself what you really want?”
My hands curl into fists at my sides.
Before I register what I’m doing, my feet move on their own. Away from the party, away from the weight of expectation. Up the grand staircase, down the familiar hall.
To the room Tiero had remodeled for Ella.
I step inside, my heartbeat steady but my mind racing. I don’t hesitate.
Crossing the space, I head straight for the bathroom. I push the vanity aside. It’s heavy, but with enough effort, it shifts just enough to reveal the hidden compartment in the wall.
My fingers find the small indentation. I press against it.
A soft click.
The panel shifts.
Inside, a small steel box rests in the hollow space, secured by two combination locks.
I lift it out, my grip tightening around the cold metal.
What the hell did you leave me, brother?
“Where did you disappear to?” Max asks when I join him in the library half an hour later.
“The bathroom.”
“You should’ve taken your wife with you,” he teases. “Work on making an heir. It would bring some stability to your family.”
I chuckle. “Don’t worry about us. We’re working plenty on it.” Not that I make love to my wife with that in mind.
Max’s eyes drift to Mia again, watching her with an expression I can’t quite place. Like her sisters, Mia is graceful and sophisticated. The perfect Mafia bride.
“No. Mia is off the table,” I reiterate, my tone firm. “Don’t even think about it. She’s far too innocent for your perverted tastes.”
His laughter is dark. “Oh, come on, man. We’d make beautiful babies.”
“There is no making babies with my wife’s sister. Move on.”
I let my gaze sweep over the room, pausing on the group of women before something else catches my attention.
“Looks like your widowed consigliere is ready to move on. Aldo seems taken with Mari’s mother.”
Max and I both watch as Caterina Accardi speaks with Aldo, her smile soft, her posture relaxed. She seems at ease in his presence.
“She is a stunning woman for her age. I can see where her daughters got their beauty from.”
And their character, thankfully. But I don’t say that part out loud. Antonio Accardi’s death caused fewer waves than I expected, and I avoid bringing him up whenever possible.
“What will it take for you to reconsider?” Max asks, waving over a waiter to refill our glasses.
“Reconsider what?”
“Mia’s hand in marriage. As I said, I need a wife now that I’m taking over as Don soon.”
“Why are you so eager to step up? Trust me, being Don isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. And the answer is still no.”
He laughs. “I’ve been waiting to leave my mark on the family all my life. Why wouldn’t I be excited?”
“You really want it?”
“Of course. You don’t?”
“Never did. This was always meant to be Tiero’s job.”
Max studies me, and despite the mask I try to keep in place, he reads me like a book.
“I get it’s tough for you right now,” he says.
He has no idea.
“But it will get better.”
It’s what I keep telling myself too.
But will it?