Chapter 18
Matteo
Twenty-five years old
I should have never sent Annamaria that fucking piano.
What was I thinking?
Oh, that’s right… I wasn’t.
Not after that last song she played for me. It unraveled whatever control I thought I still had, leaving me a mess of emotion and raw impulse. It took everything in me not to jump on a plane and go to fucking Chicago and take her right then and there.
So I did the next best thing. I bought her a grand piano worthy of a queen.
I didn’t think of the consequences such a gift would conjure up.
I didn’t think of how she would have to explain the gift to her parents, especially Romano.
I didn’t think about how precarious a situation that must have been for her, springing such a grand gesture on her like that.
I didn’t think at all, and that’s what unsettles me.
I’m a man who thinks through everything, down to the most minuscule detail. But when it comes to Anna… Fuck, what is wrong with me?
To make matters worse, she now wants me to call her to thank me properly.
Not just a normal phone call, but FaceTime me.
Which means she wants to see my face. And that can’t happen.
All this time, she believes she’s been talking to Raffaele.
Not me. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’d be the last person she would ever want to talk to. Cazzo.
Anna: Rafe? Are you there? Why won’t you answer my call?
Because I’m not the man you want, I think to myself, and curse under my breath.
Me: I can’t talk right now, with it being Christmas and all.
Anna: Oh. I thought we could talk tonight.
I did too, sweetheart. I’ve been looking forward to talking to you all day.
But not like this. Not in the way you want.
Me: I’m sorry.
What else can I say? What could I possibly say that will make any of this better? Cazzo!
Anna: Okay. Then maybe tomorrow?
Another curse escapes my lips as I take in a deep breath.
Me: Tomorrow.
Anna: Tomorrow.
Me: Goodnight, cara mia.
Anna: Goodnight, caro mio.
I lean my head against my bed’s headboard, my heart slamming into my chest at the last words she wrote. Caro mio. My beloved. My love.
This has gotten out of hand. I was supposed to be the one in control here.
I was supposed to get Annamaria to trust me enough that she would be an easy target when the time came.
None of this was supposed to happen. Feelings weren’t supposed to fucking happen.
And now, because I let something as idiotic as emotion cloud my judgment, I might have just killed the one shot we ever had at weakening Romano.
“Fuck!” I curse out, slamming my fists into the mattress.
Knowing tonight I won’t be able to come up with a solution for the problem, I turn off the lights and attempt to go to sleep.
Attempt being the operative word here, since sleep never comes.
Instead, I toss and turn all night, trying to solve a problem with no real solution beyond the obvious.
By the time the sun rises, I don’t have it in me to pretend to sleep anymore.
I get up, take a shower, get dressed, and act as if it weren’t the day I have to ask the one person who hates me for help.
As if summoning the pain in my ass, I find Raffaele dancing around the kitchen with my mother.
I’ve given him and Niccolò the day off, so I’m a little surprised to see him up this early.
I lean against the doorframe and, for a second, just stare at them as they laugh and joke.
Raffaele is dipping Mom and causing her to laugh louder than the Bad Bunny song playing over the radio.
I don’t dare move a muscle, since this is the most smiles I’ve seen from my brother in a long time. I hadn’t realized how much I had missed seeing them.
“Matteo, figlio mio!” my mother sings in glee, causing Raffaele to release his hold on her so she can run over to me. His face turns to stone, just as his heart must at the very sight of me.
“Morning, Mom. How did you sleep?”
“Well, and you?” she asks worriedly, running her fingers under the dark circles of my eyes.
“Nothing that some coffee won’t fix.”
“Let me get you a double espresso then,” she says, before walking over to the coffee machine.
Just as she goes to help me with my morning coffee, Raffaele is ready to bolt out of the room, dance party forgotten. Before he can slide past me, I stop him with a palm to his chest, the stench of expensive gin and cheap perfume making my stomach churn.
So that’s why he’s up this early. He hasn’t seen his bed yet.
“Don’t leave just yet. I need to have a word with you.”
“I’ve got sh… I mean, stuff to do, boss,” he says with a fake smile.
If by stuff he means sleeping off his drunken stupor, then yes, he surely does. But only after I have a few words with him.
“That can wait. This cannot. Meet me in my office in ten. Let me get some coffee in me, and I’ll meet you there.”
“Whatever you say, boss. It’s your show after all,” Raffaele retorts, his reply dripping with sarcasm.
I don’t call him out on it. Instead, I let him leave so I can enjoy my coffee in peace.
I take a seat while my mother places a mug in front of me, her hand rubbing my back in a motherly gesture.
“You’re his big brother, Matteo. Whatever wedge has come between you, it’s on you to fix it.”
“Because I’m the oldest? That logic doesn’t hold, Mom.”
“Not because you’re the oldest but because it’s the right thing to do. Raffaele is suffering. He hides it from you, but he is.”
“And what if I’m suffering too? Does that earn me an apology for the way he’s been acting?”
“Are you?” She arches a brow.
I’m in fucking agony.
When I don’t say anything, she lets out a sigh and takes a seat beside me.
“I never did know when you were hurting,” she says, brushing the hair away from my temple. “You always hid it so well.” She frowns. “It was only in the summers, when I came to stay with you in this house, that I saw the proof of your misery and realized how much pain you endured on your own.”
“Mom,” I mutter, not wanting to think about such things right now.
She hears the reluctance in my tone and refrains from broaching the subject again. But the mere mention of that time in our lives must rattle old ghosts, judging by the way she asks her next question.
“Is Carlo still alive?” I nod. “And how long do I have to wait until he’s not?”
I turn to face her. Her head lowers, her eyes fixed on a single spot on the kitchen table.
“Not long.”
The tension in her shoulders eases instantly.
“Please let me know when it’s going to happen,” she says softly. “I want to wear red that day.”
I place my hand over hers on the table and give it a light squeeze.
“Then I should take you shopping for the perfect dress.”
She turns my way and offers me a sweet smile.
“Make peace with Raffaele, Matteo. You should never be angry with the people who love you best. They are all you have.”
“I have my doubts that Raffaele loves me at all.”
“If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be hurting so much. Whatever the case, make it right by your brother.”
I don’t say anything to that, since it’s easier said than done. Raffaele wants the one thing I can’t give him. Not anymore. Not now. And what’s worse, I’m about to ask him for help just so I can keep impersonating him a little longer. To keep the lie alive, long enough for me to bring Anna home.
After finishing my coffee, I take two ibuprofens for the migraine I foresee my kid brother giving me in just a few minutes. When I finally make my way upstairs to my office, I find Raffaele already sitting down, albeit in my chair, swinging right to left.
“So this is what it feels like to be king, huh? No wonder you love it so much.”
Raffaele is trying to push my buttons, but I can’t let him. Not today, at least. Not when I need him.
“Our father got his seat by killing his own brother, Alessandro. Are you thinking of doing something similar?” I cock a brow.
“Nah. If you died, Nico would be the next in line, so I’d have to kill him too. And I like Nico. So you’re safe by default.”
“How reassuring,” I chuckle, though the sound feels flat even to my own ears.
“So what do you want?” Raffaele says, still in my seat. Instead of kicking him out of it, I lean against the corner of the desk, cross my arms, and stare down at him.
“I need a favor.”
“You need a favor?” He laughs. “Why the fuck are you coming to me for a favor? Don’t you have minions to follow your every order now?”
“This is a favor only you can do.”
“Me?” he asks skeptically.
“Yes, you.”
Raffaele chews on my words, and when his face suddenly lights up, the knots in my chest tighten.
“Let me guess, this has something to do with Anna, doesn’t it?”
Just the sound of her name on his lips irks me to no end.
“It does.”
“Fucked it up already, have you?” He laughs out loud. “I knew it was only a matter of time before she saw right through your lies.”
I want to tell him that, aside from pretending to be him, I have never lied to Anna. Not once. But I can’t say that to him, especially not to Raffaele. He already has his suspicions, and I will not give him any more reason to confirm them.
“Everything is going according to plan,” I say instead, keeping a cool facade. “But I’ve run into a little hiccup that I need you to smooth out.”
“What kind of hiccup?” His eyes narrow on me.
“Anna wants to talk to me,” I begin, only for Raffaele to cut me off before I can finish.
“You mean Anna wants to talk to me?” he mocks with an all-too-pleased smirk playing on his lips.
He knows he’s got me, so much so that he puts his heels on my desk, crossing his legs at the ankles.
“Well, well, well. Isn’t this a mighty turn of events?
” he laughs. “So what do you intend to do about it? Can’t mess up your perfect plan now, can you? Not when it was going oh so smoothly.”
My back molars grind as I fabricate another smile. “Like I said, Anna is expecting a call, which she will get.”
“Good luck with that. You sound nothing like me.”