Chapter 4 Glitter Bomb Explosion
GLITTER BOMB EXPLOSION
Matteo
Present Day
Isabella’s apartment looks like the aftermath of a glitter bomb explosion. There’s ribbon strewn across the dining room table, stacks of wedding magazines teetering precariously on the counter, and a half-empty bottle of prosecco sweating into a coaster shaped like a diamond ring.
Alessia is perched on the sofa with her laptop, rattling off color palettes like she’s running a hostile takeover for Gemini Corp instead of helping plan a wedding, while Serena and Rory argue about flowers with the kind of enthusiasm usually reserved for blood feuds.
And Antonio, the poor bastardo, just sits there on the armchair, letting his fiancée steamroll over him.
He’s sipping whiskey with the quiet resignation of a man who knows he’ll be outvoted no matter what.
Once the terror of Rome, who kidnapped Serena for vengeance, he’s been reduced to nodding over flower arrangements.
If his father could see Antonio now, he’d be begging for that bullet to the head.
Raf, his brother, of course is egging it all on, whispering suggestions into Isabella’s ear that have her rolling her eyes so hard I’m surprised she hasn’t sprained them yet. It's only a matter of time for those two. Before long, all the notorious cousin crew will be married off.
I lean back against the kitchen island, swirling the amber in my glass, watching it all unfold like it’s my own private comedy show.
“Matty, for the love of God, tell her orange roses are tacky,” Serena demands, pointing at Rory with a flourish of her manicured hand.
Rory, barefoot and flushed from laughter, fires back, “They’re autumnal. The wedding’s in…”
“May!” Serena barks. “Not the fall. Don’t they have seasons in Belfast? It makes sense if you’re marrying a pumpkin, not a Ferrara.”
Antonio raises his glass, his accent thicker after a few drinks. “I’d marry a pumpkin if it meant you’d stop yelling at me about napkin folds.”
The room erupts in laughter, even Alessia cracking a grin behind her screen.
This is what it means to be in the cousin crew. Loud. Opinionated. Overbearing as hell. But tight. Always tight.
Alessandro slides into the kitchen beside me, snagging a bottle of water from the counter. His scarred jaw flexes as he leans against the island, eyes cutting to me for just a second. The look is subtle, practiced. The kind that says we need to talk.
Not here. Not now. I take another sip of whiskey and shake my head ever so slightly.
Not when the girls are knee-deep in peonies and prosecco.
Not when Serena’s laughing, cheeks pink, and Antonio looks like he’s finally worked past all the guilt around the origins of their relationship.
It’s like he’s finally figured out how to breathe around her.
I haven’t made any headway regarding the femme fatale from the other night at the Velvet Vault so there’s nothing to discuss anyway.
Ale doesn’t push. He just claps me once on the shoulder before joining Rory on the couch, stealing the pen out of her hand and scribbling something ridiculous on her flower chart that makes her swat him with a cushion.
I wonder if Rory regrets their hasty wedding.
They never got the huge party, the gifts or all the hoopla that goes along with a Valentino or Rossi wedding.
Knowing the tiny tyrant and my broody cousin, I think they’re okay with it.
But who knows? Maybe after Serena and Antonio’s big bash, they’ll throw one of their own.
For a minute, I just sit there and watch them all.
My cousins, mi famiglia, one by one have paired off like it’s some cosmic joke.
Isabella and Raf, practically glued at the hip.
Serena and Antonio, bickering their way to forever.
Alessandro and Rory, the king and queen of this madhouse, scars and all, still managing to look like they stepped out of some dark fairy tale.
Even Alessia, for all her cold pretense and chaos, I know won’t be alone for long.
She’s dating some guy insane enough to keep up with her.
All of them. Settled. Anchored. Loved.
Except me.
I swirl my drink again, watching the amber catch the light. Maybe it’s better this way. I’ve never been the relationship type. Too reckless, too charming for my own good, too busy burning through nights and women like matches.
At least, that’s what I tell myself. But the truth, the truth is different.
Because there was one.
One girl who mattered. One summer I can’t shake no matter how many women I distract myself with. Her hair burned like copper in the sun, her laugh salted the air, and those eyes, as blue as the sea we swam in, saw every flaw I tried to hide. That girl burrowed under my skin and never left.
Cat.
And like the idiot I am, I left her behind.
I drain the rest of my whiskey, the warmth burning down my throat as Rory’s laughter rings out again.
Love, family, forever. That shit’s for them.
Me? I’m just the wicked devil still dancing on the edges.
Across the living room, Serena snaps her fingers in front of Alessandro’s face, drawing my attention, too. “Earth to Ale. Are you even listening to me, or are you too busy scribbling hearts with your wife on my floral arrangements?”
Rory snorts. “Don’t tempt him. He already suggested skull-shaped centerpieces.”
“I stand by that idea,” Ale mutters, grinning. Then he turns to our cousin. “What’s up, Sere?”
“The bridal shower.” She rolls her eyes like it should be obvious. “Next week. At the Vault. Is everything ready?”
Across the room, Alessia gasps. “Wait, you’re letting my brother plan a shower? God help us all.”
“Of course not, Alessia. I’m not a complete idiot. We’re just using the club as the venue. I’m bringing in a team to handle all the details.”
“There’s nothing too good for my future wife.” Antonio curls his arm around Sere’s waist and drops a kiss to the top of her head.
“Hey,” I protest, setting my glass down with a clink. “The Velvet Vault is the classiest joint in Manhattan. Ale and I could’ve handled it. You’ll have chandeliers, champagne fountains, maybe even a chocolate one if you behave.”
Serena narrows her eyes, unimpressed. “If I see a single stripper, Matty, I swear—”
Her voice fades in my ears because Ale is looking at me again. Just a flicker, quick as a blade flash in the dark. That wordless exchange we’ve been trading since the other night. Since that woman.
My stomach knots. Hosting a big family circus in Ale’s club while an assassin is still breathing down my neck? Brilliant idea.
But Ale answers smoothly, voice steady. “Yeah, Sere. Everything’s sorted out. You’ll love it.”
She beams and goes back to debating flower walls with Bella. Ale waits until they’re distracted, then crooks two fingers at me. I sigh and follow him into the hallway, away from the laughter.
“What, you want to practice your scowl on me now?” I mutter.
“You know what.” His voice drops low, steel under the calm. “We should tell them.”
“No.” I fold my arms. “Not tonight. Not ever, if I can help it.”
Ale’s jaw tightens. “Matty, someone—no, not just someone, an assassin related to the Quinlans pulled a gun on you in your own office. In my club. That’s not nothing. They deserve to know—”
“I said I’ve got it under control.”
“You don’t—”
“I do,” I snap, sharper than I mean to. His eyes flash, but I barrel on. “I’m not ruining Serena’s wedding with this. They’ll panic, and then I’ll have three cousins breathing down my neck, and Raf will insist on shadowing me with a fucking sniper rifle everywhere I go. No thanks.”
Ale scrubs a hand over his scarred jaw, exhaling through his nose. For a second, he looks like he’s going to push harder. Then he mutters, “Fine. But I’m doubling security at the Vault for the shower. No arguments.”
I lift my hands in mock surrender. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“So what’s the plan? Are you just going to keep trying to avoid your assassin or what?”
“No…” I hiss.
“Then what are you going to do?”
“Cazzo, if I knew she’d already be dead.
” I rake my hands over my face and blow out a breath.
Dio, what a fucking liar. Even if I found my beautiful assassin, would I be able to pull the trigger?
Not until I knew who she was and why she made my blood simmer.
Dismissing the pointless thoughts, I continue, “The facial recognition software is garbage because of that damned mask. It couldn’t detect a thing. The girl’s a damned ghost.”
“Wonderful, so we have an assassin on the loose and a bridal shower next week with a whole slew of high value targets. This is just fucking perfect, Matty.”
“Everything will be fine, trust me.” Throwing him a grin, I spin on my heel back down the corridor.
When we step back into the living room, the noise washes over us again. Serena laughs at something Raf said and Isabella is swatting at him while Alessia demands more prosecco.
Serena pauses mid-giggle, eyes narrowing. “What’s going on with you two?”
“Nothing,” Ale says smoothly.
“Absolutely nothing,” I echo, flashing my most innocent grin.
She doesn’t look convinced, but Antonio distracts her by pulling her into his lap and murmuring something that makes her flush.
Crisis averted. For now. But as I sink back onto the couch, I can’t shake the weight in my chest.
Because Ale’s right. This isn’t nothing.
And the longer I keep it from them, the worse it’s going to blow up when the truth finally comes out.