Chapter 16
Matteo
Twenty-five years old.
I find myself replaying the last video Anna sent me while waiting for Moretti to arrive.
The video must have been filmed by one of Anna’s coworkers at the ice cream parlor because it doesn’t show her face, only her hands.
She scoops ice cream into a glass bowl, carefully layering it, then showers it with colorful sprinkles and gummy bears.
Once the masterpiece is finished, the camera pulls back just enough to reveal a small girl on the other side of the counter, bouncing on the balls of her feet with barely contained excitement as Anna carefully slides the sundae toward her.
Even though I never see her face, I can still hear Anna’s joyous laughter in the background, a soothing melody that draws a smile to my lips.
I’m glad Romano loosened the bars of her golden cage enough to let her take that summer job.
For most girls her age, working behind a counter is entirely ordinary.
Expected, even. A way to save up for college or kill time during the summer months off from school. But Anna didn’t take the job for money.
She took it because we made a promise to each other. The promise to step outside our comfort zones and look for life’s beauty wherever we can find it. She took that promise seriously, and fuck, I’m so glad she did.
Something as inconsequential as scooping ice cream pulled her out of herself and saved her from her melancholy.
Not only did it give her the structure she needed, but it gave her new faces to see every day.
New experiences to look forward to. She learned how to exist in a space that wasn’t dictated by her family’s shadow or rules. And in doing so, she bloomed.
I saw the balance it brought into her life.
How that small taste of freedom steadied her.
How it gave her something that was just hers.
For a few hours a day, at least, she wasn’t a Chicago principessa or a surname that held far too much weight for her to always have to carry on her shoulders.
She was just another eighteen-year-old girl behind a counter, living her best life, even if to everyone else it looked like an ordinary one.
Still, Anna could never live that kind of life.
Not really. I’m sure her father had eyes on her at all times.
Soldiers stationed from somewhere nearby, watching from parked cars just in case anyone got any funny ideas.
But the illusion of freedom was enough to bring color back into her world and push the dark thoughts that shadowed her days away.
There was beauty back in her life, and Anna was determined to suck the very marrow of it.
I haven’t been nearly as diligent in my own efforts to keep my promise to her. Finding beauty in my world doesn’t come easy for me. And lately, I’ve come to accept the fact that the only place I even recognize it exists is in her.
Merda. This isn’t how this was supposed to go.
My texts to Anna were supposed to be calculated from the start.
A means to an end. A way to earn her trust for what I had planned.
Nothing more. In fact, if I’d been able to trust Raffaele with the task, I would’ve allocated it to him.
He should have been the one texting Anna every night, not me.
I had more concerning things to concentrate on than waste my precious time texting a girl who was still in fucking high school, for crying out loud.
But Raffaele proved himself too unreliable when it came to Romano’s youngest, so the responsibility fell to me.
Four months of messages later, I’m starting to suspect I made a colossal mistake keeping the task for myself. Somewhere between my need for vengeance and her self-hatred, the lines got crossed, and something else took root entirely. Something I wasn’t prepared for.
I’ve actually begun… to care for her. Care, in a way I never have for anyone beyond my immediate family.
I wasn’t expecting that. Not just because Anna is the daughter of my sworn enemy, but because I was certain I was immune to feelings altogether—a byproduct of growing up with my father’s indoctrination that emotion was synonymous with weakness.
I try not to dwell on it too much, so I ignore the fact that such fondness even exists. Whatever feelings are stirring inside me, I shove them down, burying them deep beneath years of discipline and denial.
Nothing is happening between Anna and me. She’s a pawn. A tool. A way to hurt her father. Nothing more.
That’s exactly what I tell myself as I replay the video again, pretending that the sound of her laughter doesn’t do something unsettling to my insides.
The sound of a familiar knock at my office door snaps me out of my thoughts. I quickly switch off the phone and slide it into my desk drawer just as Niccolò steps inside.
“Moretti is here,” he says, then pauses, his brow furrowing as he looks at me. “Everything alright?”
“Of course,” I reply, standing up from behind my desk, pretending to adjust my cufflinks just to avoid meeting my brother’s eyes. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“I don’t know,” Niccolò replies with a curious tone, taking another step closer. “You’ve got this weird look on your face.”
“You’re seeing things,” I say, a touch too sternly. “Just bring Moretti in.”
Niccolò stares at me for a beat, then nods, the doubt still lingering in his expression as he turns away.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, rolling my neck from side to side to ease the tension knotted in my shoulders.
Focus, Matteo. Now is not the time to lose your focus.
Thankfully, when Moretti enters the office with Niccolò and Rocco walking in behind him, I’ve collected all my composure and have my game face on.
Moretti is all smiles, excitement radiating from him as if he’s already anticipating good news.
As he should be, since I called him here to finally let him get a glimpse of my plan.
I extend my hand, and he shakes it firmly before taking the seat opposite my desk.
“Nico tells me you’ve come up with a solution to our little Outfit problem,” he says, his grin stretched wide on his face.
“I have,” I reply, leaning against my desk in front of him.
“Well,” he retorts with a chuckle, settling back in his seat, “don’t keep me in suspense. Let’s hear it then.”
I open my mouth to start, then find myself hesitating for a second. Once I tell Moretti my plans of how I intend to hurt Romano and get New York out of his grip, there’s no turning back. It will cease to be just an idea and become a full-fledged scheme. One word, and I’ll make it real.
“Matteo?” he asks suspiciously when I don’t say anything right away.
Cazzo.
With my best Machiavellian smile, I start from the very beginning and give him the bullet points of how I intend to get us our city back.
I tell him I’ve established contact with Vincent Romano’s youngest and that for the past few months, I’ve managed to gain her trust. I purposely leave out Raffaele’s involvement with Anna, since I know Moretti won’t take too kindly to such a betrayal of the famiglia.
If he found out that Raffaele had been secretly talking to her since he was fifteen and had even visited her in Chicago, not once, but twice, he would want me to make an example of him.
And Moretti’s idea of punishment would be far more severe than the one I doled out.
He might be a patient and kind boss, but he’s still a Don. A treason of that kind could only be satisfied with blood. And though my relationship with Raffaele is strained, he’s still my baby brother. I will always protect him, even if he doesn’t acknowledge it.
Moretti listens attentively as I keep my tone measured and detached, not going into too much detail about what my talks with Anna entail.
I only tell him that she believes I’m someone safe.
Someone she can confide in and trust. I don’t mention the four months’ worth of intimate, personal text messages and voice memos we shared.
I don’t mention laughter or videos or the way her voice has started to infiltrate my dreams. Only strategy. That’s all he needs to know anyway.
I explain that at the first opening I have, I’ll steal her away from Chicago and bring her to New York.
Once she’s here and safe in my grasp, I’ll make it known to the Outfit that I’m the one who has her and offer a parley.
In that sit-down, I’ll reveal that there is a new boss of the Cosa Nostra and then explain my terms.
If Romano wants peace, if he wants his precious daughter to remain safe, then he should leave New York for good and relinquish any prior control he had over us.
To make sure he understands that my threats aren’t unfounded, I will personally marry Anna and therefore cement that her rightful place is no longer under her father’s wing with the Outfit, but with her husband’s and the Cosa Nostra.
Our union will be the thing that combines our two families together for generations to come, forbidding Romano from striking at his own flesh and blood.
However, if he still wants war, he shall have it.
Moretti’s smile widens as I continue, especially when I outline the Camorra’s role in all of this.
How they’ll close ranks around the Irish before the sit-down and get their pound of flesh, just like I promised Vitale.
I also explain the various stages of the war, should Romano attempt to move his soldiers into our city.
Starting with the New York Times and Wall Street Journal full-page advertisements, revealing the Chicago giant’s scandalous private life, and how most of his children aren’t even his.
Every news outlet on the East Coast will pick up the story and run with it.
While most citizens will be frothing at the mouth with the gossip, the revelation isn’t aimed at the general population, but at the syndicate families of Chicago.