Chapter Six
Sofia
“Sofia… Sofia!”
A light tap on my arm has me jolting and my eyes snapping upward.
I blink, a little disoriented as I take in my surroundings.
Linen tablecloths, half-eaten plates, and the concerned faces of my sisters and cousins.
They’re all staring at me with a range of expressions, from raised eyebrows to curved lips to concerned eyes.
I flush when I realize that I wasn’t paying much attention to them.
“Should we be concerned?” Elena asks with a careful smile. “You’ve been spacing out a lot lately.”
“Isn’t that kind of her thing?” one of the twins asks with a smile, but there is a hint of concern in her voice.
"I'm fine, guys," I say with a smile, reaching for my glass of water and lifting it to my lips only to find it empty. I set it back on the table before raising my head to find someone who'll get me a fresh bottle. “Where’d the waiter go?”
“Have mine,” Gia says, uncapping her bottle of water and pouring it into my glass. I don't dare look at them as I drink.
"Okay, something is definitely wrong with you," Elena says, reaching for my free hand and clasping it. "You would tell us if something's the matter, right?" she pushes, but the truth is, I don't even know what's wrong with me. “Sofia?”
"It's Matteo," I blurt, uncertain what I can and cannot share with my sisters. None of them are married or have a boyfriend. Would they understand something that even I cannot?
“What about Matteo?” Elena asks.
“I just don't know what to make of him," I say honestly. "One second, I think I know him, and the next, he feels like a complete stranger."
Three weeks of marriage, and he’s still a puzzle I can’t quite solve.
Every evening, he comes home for dinner—makes time for me, asks about my day, tells me about his work.
He’s attentive, protective, and affectionate, even.
But then he’s gone before I wake, leaving only notes and cold sheets.
He hired a driver without asking, orders from my favorite restaurants, makes love to me like I’m precious—but does he love me?
I expected marriage to be cold and transactional, like my parents’. Instead, Matteo is... more. But is it enough? Is this care, or is it something deeper?
There is heat and affection when he looks at me, but those are the only things I can ever read from him. I know he cares, as he does with everyone else close to him, but…
Does he love me?
For days, I have driven myself to madness trying to figure out if Matteo feels more than just lust for me.
“He’s changed,” Gia’s quiet voice pulls my focus back to the present.
“I talk to his brother, Dante, sometimes. We met at the wedding reception.” She quickly adds that last bit when I raise an eyebrow at her statement.
“What? He was nice to me at the wedding, and besides, we were seated at the same table and found out that we have things in common. We’ve just… kept in touch.”
There is a slight blush on her cheeks that makes me want to tease her for it, but I find myself focusing on her first statement. "What do you mean, Matteo has changed?"
Gia seems relieved that no one asks her about her friendship with Matteo’s brother. “So Dante told me that he leaves work early every day—”
“But he’s always late,” I cut in. “He comes home by seven most nights, just in time for a late dinner.”
“”Exactly,” Gia says, leaning forward. Dante told me that before you, Matteo practically lived in his office.
He would leave way past midnight, and sometimes, he wouldn’t even go home at all, but since he married you, he’s been trying his best to make it home early.
He doesn't travel out of state anymore. Instead, he gives the jobs that require an overnight stay to his brothers.” She paused to take a sip of her water.
“Dante told me that Matteo doesn’t like when anyone talks about you, not even in jest. He’s fiercely protective of you, Sofia. ”
Gia’s words send my heart racing, but I’m afraid to hope.
Still, a memory from last week’s family event slips in when one of Matteo’s brothers, Lorenzo, joked about how pretty I looked and how he was going to steal me from his brother if he dropped his guard.
The look on Matteo’s face that day had been murderous, and the tension around the table spiked.
I was shocked when Matteo threatened Lorenzo with his life if he ever looked at me as anything but his sister-in-law.
I wanted to believe that his words were spoken in jest, but I saw his eyes and knew that he meant every single word of it.
It wasn’t until Leonardo intervened that things went back to normal, but not completely.
That night, Matteo made love to me like a man with one sole focus, marking every inch of my body with love bites. If someone didn't know I was married by the shiny diamond ring on my finger, then those marks on my neck were evidence enough; I had to wear a scarf to work for days.
But does possessiveness equal love? My father is possessive of my mother, treats her like a prized possession, and there’s no love there. Just ownership.
Still, is what Matteo and I have love or just care? Does he see me as his partner or just another possession, like everything else he owns? He cares, I’ve never doubted that but…I want his love too.
I'm still thinking about it when my sisters and I part ways. I think about it the entire walk to work, and I’m so lost in thought that I don’t notice the man standing by the entrance until I bump into him.
“Sorry,” I mutter, trying to walk around him but he steps back in my path.
I try for the other side, but he follows, forcing my gaze up.
The annoyance on my face quickly smooths into a smile when I realize who it is.
“Oh, hello, Bruno.” I’m a bit confused about what Matteo's stepbrother is doing outside my building.
Getting to meet all of Matteo’s brothers and stepbrothers, and memorizing all their names and faces, wasn't difficult considering how many people live in my own home. Bruno struck me as the quiet one and sort of a black sheep of the family. He didn’t appear as close to his stepbrothers, but wasn’t ostracized either.
“Sofia,” he says sharply, and I notice for the first time that he appears nervous. A thin sheen of sweat covers his forehead, and a panicked look flashes in his eyes. “Where have you been? I’ve been waiting here for an hour.”
My brows knit in worry. “Is something the matter?”
“It’s Matteo,” he says shakily, and my heart leaps to my throat. A cold fist clenches in my chest, squeezing the air from my lungs as all kinds of horrible thoughts cross my mind.
I grab his arm as the fear pierces through my chest. “What happened, Bruno?”
“God, it was so horrible," he pants, and I catch the smell of alcohol on his breath.
"We were at a warehouse downtown, and then everything that could go wrong did.
There was so much blood and… Christ." He shakes his head as if to shake off a memory before grabbing my arm and pulling me away from the entrance. "They took him to the hospital. He’s been asking for you, Sofia.”
My limbs feel heavy, and the ground beneath my feet doesn't feel quite as steady as the thought of Matteo, my strong and beautiful husband, hurting.
I know—knew before I married him that some of the things he does are not legal and often dangerous, but I never worried about it.
I trusted that he would be careful and safe but now…
“How bad is he hurt?” I whisper, letting Bruno drag me down the steps and to his car. “Why didn’t anyone call me? Bruno, please tell me that he’ll be okay!”
“He needs you, Sofia,” he says, opening the back door for me.
I slide in quickly and buckle the seatbelt in.
Bruno closes the door behind me and rounds the car to the driver’s seat.
He starts driving. I quickly text my manager about an emergency, so they don't wait for me before I dial Matteo's number.
"Please pick up," I mutter under my breath, hoping to hear my husband's voice so I can be assured of his safety, but the call sends me straight to voicemail. I dial the number again and get the same result. I type a text just to assure him that I’m on my way, and when I’m done, my finger hovers on the send icon.
A part of me wants to add that I love him at the end, but I hesitate, second-guessing myself.
“What are you doing?”
Bruno snatches the phone from my fingers before I can decide whether to add those three words to the text or not. I look up to find Bruno glaring at my phone, fingers tapping furiously to delete my text. “I was just texting Matteo to let him know we’re on the way.”
Those eyes lift to mine, and I suck in a sharp breath when I see the threat in them. I watch with shock as his face transforms from heartbreak to pure, undiluted anger. "You’re not fucking going anywhere," he hisses and then rolls down his window. I watch with horror as he tosses my phone out.
“Bruno!” I press my face to the window and watch as another car drives over my phone, shattering it. I turn back to my brother-in-law, confused by what the hell is going on. “Why did you do that? I was only texting Matteo to see if he was alright.”
“That son of a bitch is as healthy as a bull,” he growls, eyes on the road.
“W-what? Then why…”
My voice trails off as I slowly register what is happening. I'm being kidnapped. By my own brother-in-law. But why? I've only met Bruno a handful of times, and we barely spoke on those occasions.
"It’s not fair. It was supposed to be me. I should be the heir. He and Leonardo stole everything from me," he says in a voice filled with rage. “Matteo always gets everything. The golden Rossi child who can do no wrong.”
"You’re brothers," I whisper, still confused by this animosity and very terrified of being stuck in a car with a madman.
“That son of a bitch is not my brother. Just because my mother married that thieving bastard Leonardo, does not make us brothers!” He takes a sharp turn that has me gripping my seatbelt tightly.
“That traitor stole everything from my family and gave it to his sons. I am older than Matteo. It’s me who was supposed to marry you and become the next don! ”
I didn’t know Bruno was older. I always figured Matteo was from the way he carried himself and commanded respect and attention from his brothers and everyone around him. Still, I stay silent as Bruno continues to rage.
“Leonardo took advantage of my father's death.
I was too young to inherit his empire, so that bastard seduced my mother and stole my birthright.
He promised to return what was rightfully mine once I was ready!
" he roars, punching furiously at the steering wheel.
I sink into my seat in fear when I spot the blood on his knuckles.
“I’m the fucking oldest. Everything Matteo was given belongs to me. Me, not him!” He stops for a second, and his eyes meet my terrified ones. “Now he’s going to see what it feels like to lose.”
Oh God.
“No,” I whimper, my heart racing with fear, knowing that this man means to hurt me. It’s written all over his face—his eyes.
And Matteo… Christ, I should have sent that text. Now he’ll never know that I’ve fallen in love with him.