Chapter 19
19
Matteo
I ’ve filled my day with distractions, promising myself I would let Layne do whatever it is she needs to do today alone. Considering it’s now close to six, and neither Dante nor Valentine has snuck off, I think we’ve all done really fucking well, leaving her be this long. But seeing her photo on my phone, those fucking tears in her eyes, I’m done, and I’m going to get my girl.
Racing out of my room, one arm in my suit jacket, I plough into Valentine, who, judging by the look on his face, has been looking at the photo one of our contacts sent over. I’m relieved we’ve been working behind the scenes, rebuilding alliances that Vitale all but destroyed. The smaller people on the streets were hard to win over after the way he turned up the threats and increased the tithes, but the past few years, we have earned their trust.
“She’s fucking crying, Matteo. In Carlos’s coffee shop by her goddamn self!” Valentine barks. His mood is ugly, but it’s his worry talking, and I know that.
“Val, calm down. She’s okay.”
Valentine digs his phone out of his pocket again, and the two of us lean in and look at the photo.
“I can deal with ripping toenails from traitors, but I can’t deal with her tears? What kind of Boss am I going to be?” He smiles, but it’s forced and shows way too many of his teeth.
“You’ll be a good Boss. And you being affected by your wife’s tears would have both your mother and your nonna beaming with pride.”
We get to the front door, waiting for the elevator to arrive, the echo of Dante’s bad singing in the shower floating down the hallway.
“He’ll be angry he’s not coming,” Valentine mumbles, his fingers flying over his cell as he texts Dante where we are.
“But you’re not coming with me, either, Val. You’ll be too much for her. She needs space, and you have that look in your eyes.”
“What look?”
“You want to start building a fortress around her before you fill the moat with the blood of her enemies.”
Valentine’s eyes flare, then he closes them slowly, acknowledging I’m right without saying a word.
“We promised her some time so she could figure out what she wants to do.” I clap his shoulder as we both walk into the elevator. “That’s why we’ve been creating diversions all day.”
And we have. The guard who spat at our wife is now in the hospital, waiting for surgery to rewire his broken jaw back together, and his brother is currently sifting through the remains of the ashes of their family home.
“You can drop me off on your way to see Claudia’s father.”
“Jesus, I forgot about that. Yeah, fine.” Valentine flicks off another text to Dante. “I’ll swing back and pick him up, because there is no chance in hell I am going there without backup.”
Talking shop is a good distraction for both of us.
“There’s another shipment due next week, but the Irish are saying there will be a delay. Something about Vitale shortchanging them.”
“Strange,” Valentine hisses. “I remember the three of us signing off on the invoice the Irish sent over, and we even added a bonus for our appreciation. Mending fences with the Irish is a long-term strategy, one we can’t afford to have Vitale intentionally screw up now. For some reason, the prick is insistent on setting fire to as many bridges as possible before he fucking dies.”
“Which is why our pack has been working hard on new alliances,” I offer, clicking my seat belt as Valentine speeds out of our garage.
“I’ll give Ronin a call once I drop you off and let him know our pack has paid as we agreed.”
“Make sure you apologize,” I say, being as surly as he is. Which is not my place.
Valentine bites back almost immediately. His scent is bitter, and I know I’ve hit a nerve by telling him how to do his job. “Matty, I get you’re fucking stressed, but I don’t need your fucking attitude. If I call the up-and-coming head of the Irish and say sorry for hurting his fucking feelings because my grandfather bent him over and shafted him in a deal, I’m pretty sure he’ll laugh in my face before promising to burn our shipment on the road outside our home.”
I scrub my hand down my face. I know he’s right, but at the same time, Valentine can have a one-track mind when he focuses on the future. He’s like a bull at a gate, and while people aren’t wrong about the Italians flying off the handle at the slightest provocation, the Irish turn into clumps of fucking concrete at even smaller signs of disrespect.
“Besides, I need to call him for another matter,” Valentine says, and we’re back to being on the same page after both our outbursts. “I’m inviting him to come to our dinner party next week.”
“If she agrees.”
“She will,” he replies, smug as hell.
But I know he’s not as confident as he’s been letting on. Layne’s got us all acting out of sorts, and considering the week we have planned, it’s not the run up we would have liked. We’re going to be making the Red Wedding in Game of Thrones look like a kid’s birthday party.
Valentine pulls up in front of Carlos’s coffee shop, directly opposite the community library that Dante showed her on the map. Neither of us says a word, but the Escalade stinks with our shared stress.
“You know I love you like a brother, Matteo, but I swear to fucking god, if you don’t bring her back to us, I will…”
I climb out and slam the door on his threats. The truth is, though, if I don’t bring her back, I’ll gratefully accept whatever punishment he sees fit.
Walking inside the coffee shop and trying to maintain an air of neutrality is hard when, as soon as the door opens, I am nearly swept off my feet by her scent. The day away from each other has only made her lush caramel scent more potent.
Across the crowded café, our eyes meet, and when she stands so quickly her chair drops to the ground, I know I made the right decision to come. We both take a step at the same time, the distance between us all but evaporating, and I reach for her, sweeping her into my arms.
“Layne,” I exhale, my nose against her hair, and the chaos of uncertainty that has been bubbling inside me all day settles. My anxiety doesn’t disappear completely—where she is concerned, it maybe never will—but that is fine.
We get jostled as the dogs circle protectively, and it’s a good reminder of being out in the public still. I let my arms fall away, but I don’t let her go. Dropping my arm over her shoulder, I usher her over to the counter.
“Carlos, this is Layne.”
Carlos is well past his prime—his stomach is testament to that, as are his laughter lines—but he still has plenty of love to give. It was a good day when “ il coltello ” decided to focus his knife skills in his café, although he passed his legacy to his son, Legos. Luckily, we grew up spending summers together because the mad bastard is as fearsome an assassin as his father, but he’s also one of our most loyal lieutenants.
Carlos throws his hands up. “She is way too beautiful. Look at all the customers she brings, just to sit in the same room as her.”
Layne blushes hard, and the pink of her cheeks makes her beauty radiate, and the lush notes of her caramel pool on my lips. It’s a sign of how rattled she is today when she snuggles against me under the weight of his attention. But if this is the life she chooses, she will need to get used to this kind of attention—as the Boss’s wife, as well as mine and Dante’s.
“I got you,” I say quietly and her eyes dance to mine. I like what I read in them, a growing acceptance.
Carlos goes to say more, but his wife, Gina, pokes her head out of the kitchen, and the man freezes up under the scowl of his wife.
“Gina, have you met Layne?” I ask, pulling Layne away from Carlos and closer to his wife.
She throws her hands wide, plopping them down on her hips, like she can’t believe I asked. “ Vieni, bambino , of course I met her. She sad when she come in. I gave her cuddles until Carlos break my kitchen.” Gina talks loudly in broken English, even though she hasn’t returned to Italy for years and years. “Go, sit. I know what you need.”
“Wife,” Carlos fake whispers, “don’t boss the Boss!”
The two of them joke. And despite the threat of treason as they allude to Valentine already taking the crown, no one in the café bats an eye. Everyone stands to shake my hand as I guide Layne back over to her corner, and she looks more tired when we sit. I place her with her back to the room, so I can keep an eye out, but honestly, we have no enemies in here. Bella and Edward take up their positions next to her, and then it’s just us.
A peace settles over me when she lets me interlace our fingers.
“You know, in the back of my mind, I knew you’d be watching somehow.”
“And we always will, Layne. Even if you decide you need to leave.”
She doesn’t answer with a response but gives me something better. She shares her thoughts. “Yesterday shook me so much, you know.”
“Why, though?”
“Because you acted the same, like this thing between us was real, even after you found out things I’ve tried to forget about.”
“It's a bit hard to forget where you came from.”
“I wish I could rewrite the start of my life.”
“You have the power to shape your future. Focus on that instead,” I say, squeezing her hand in warning when Gina ambles over, her hands full with an oversized tray.
I don’t jump up to help, because Gina would be offended that I didn’t have faith in her being a good host.
“Small Chianti to share and food, and no fish, because I know already. Small plate, too, so not spoil your dinner later, yes?”
Layne laughs. and agrees. “Yes, this is great. Thank you.”
“Pfft, you don’t thank me. Maybe later, you call one of your bambinos Gina?” She laughs, waving over her shoulder.
I pour her a glass of wine before making a small plate for her. Before I do the same for myself, I drag her seat closer, needing her almost on my lap. As a Beta, I’m not usually so affected by other people's emotions, but I can feel Layne’s like they’re my own.
We eat quietly for a moment until she starts to talk.
“I don’t understand why Valentine didn’t throw a bag over my head and put me in a dungeon under your building.”
“Why would he do that?”
“To make sure I’m not a plant, trying to land you for my father’s next victory in the courtroom?”
I shrug, pushing her plate closer, urging her to eat.
“If people judged Valentine, Dante, and I based on who Vitale is, I would have had to bury them or vice versa before now. But I think that’s also where we see the reminders of how compatible designations ‘feel’ or ‘scent’ each other. Did Vitale make you feel safe?”
She shakes her head. “God, no. With him, I felt like I was trapped in the room with a wounded and insane bear or something.”
“And us?”
Layne takes another sip of her wine, watching me closely with lots of questions still swirling in her warm, caramel-colored eyes.
I tap my finger on her hand, careful not to touch her too much, since she seems like she’s still struggling with acceptance. “Some people feel so right, and it might not make sense as to why, but isn’t that instinct?”
Her eyes keep searching mine.
“Trust is a funny thing,” I murmur, sitting back and giving her some space.
“How so?”
“Once it’s broken and someone new comes along, it exists, even though the new person didn’t do anything wrong. It’s sad because they don’t get the version of you before the hurt, but it’s also amazing because, while they see the damage left behind, they also get to see the growth, the survival. Those people come into your life because it’s their job to show you trust can be restored and life will be even better than you first thought possible.”
“And that’s you?”
“I believe we’re all caught in the tangled threads of fate. You arriving at The Dock before finding me when I needed saving is proof of that.”
My cell rings, the screen flashing Dante’s name, but it also shows a few missed calls and texts from Dante and Valentine.
“I need to give them an update. It’s been a rough day for all of us.”
“It has.”
She breaks off small pieces of ciabatta and passes it over to Bella and Edward while I text Dante and Valentine that Layne is fine, and we are safe. I leave it open as to whether she’s coming back with me because I don’t know.