5. Matteo #3
As I turn to leave, the door shoots open and my father enters.
The temperature in the room immediately drops for the man who knows the world bends around him.
He retired when our mother passed away, but he remains a much-loved and respected figure in our industry.
I’d rather fall on my knife than ever disappoint him.
Papa’s gaze lands on me first, eyes filled with something colder than the years of understanding they’ve always shown me.
“Matteo,” he says, voice low. “A word.”
When I follow him to the far corner of Giovanni’s office, he doesn’t waste any time. “You traded your reputation to secure this girl’s freedom, so now you must honor the cost.”
I grit my teeth. “You can’t be serious.”
“You removed his hand, Matteo. His fucking hand.”
“That is unrelated to this.” I thrust my hand to Azra during my last word. She stands quietly at the side, her posture a mix of fear and reverence. “It was a necessary—”
“It was excessive,” Papa corrects. “And if you don’t want the rule book thrown at you, you have no choice but to uphold the agreement you made.”
I stare at him, incredulous. “She doesn’t want to marry me. She wants me to pretend to be her fiancé.”
“I am aware of the terms she’s requesting.”
“Then you understand why I refuse to play fiancé to a woman who wants another man!”
He slightly turns his head, not much, just sufficient for me to see the cold amusement in his eyes. “This isn’t about your pride.”
“It is!” I shout, still too immature to understand that real men don’t raise their voices. They don’t have to. True strength is shown in silence. “She wants to use me to get back at Antonio. She’s made that clear.”
“And you did the same when you kissed her… and god knows what else during your commute to the airport,” he says, his tone cutting but also with a hint of pride. “By letting her get close, you let yourself get compromised.”
My jaw locks. “That’s not—”
“You acted impulsively,” he interrupts, too impatient for excuses. “And now you want to walk because you don’t like the consequences of your actions.”
Heat rises in my chest before the truth tumbles from my mouth. “I refuse to be her pawn.”
“Then you shouldn’t have made yourself one,” he says, smirking like what he said is funny.
I don’t see the humor behind it.
He steps closer. His stance isn’t threatening. It’s far worse than that. He’s disappointed in me.
“You made promises on behalf of the Caruso name, then folded on them like our word is not the foundation of our reputation.”
Everything he says is correct, but I have a hard time folding. “I did what I had to.”
“No,” he says sharply. “You did what you wanted to. You wanted her, and now you’re angry because she’s acting like she doesn’t want you back.”
The words slice through me more dangerously than any bullet could.
I look away. “She wants Antonio.”
“No,” he says again, shaking his head. “That isn’t what I see when I look at her.”
My breath stutters, and when he sees it, he presses harder.
“Play along. Make this engagement believable. Protect her. Then maybe you’ll see what I see.
” He steps closer, blocking Azra from view.
“Her presence here is valuable, my boy. It could benefit us. Her loyalty—if earned—could shift alliances for centuries to come. You’ve just got to pull your head out of your ass long enough to see that.
” His eyes dance between mine, chocolate brown versus murky blue, before he pulls the rug out from beneath my feet.
“If you won’t do this for your brothers and me, do it for your mother. You owe her that much.”
My stomach sinks to my feet. He doesn’t remind me often how much I owe her, but whenever he does, it feels like a chain around my throat.
I stare at him, breathing hard, fury burning under my skin, but unable to speak.
“Return to the negotiations,” he says, speaking to the little boy who’d give anything to take his mother’s place. “And tell her you agree to her terms.”
Confident he’s got me by the throat, he turns and leaves.
After a beat, I turn my gaze toward Azra, who’s peering at me with cautious hope.
I’m reluctant to give her any, but I don’t have much choice.
I’m not a good man. I sin enough to make the devil blush.
But I occasionally mix things up by doing a handful of good deeds, hopeful they’ll outweigh some of the bad enough that a son will have a chance to visit his mother one final time before he’s sentenced to hell.
“Fine,” I mutter, voice flat. “We’ll do it your way.”
The relief flickering across Azra’s face is short-lived.
“On one condition.”
Even from a distance, her huff fans my cheeks. “I have no interest in sucking your dick.”
I smirk at the dishonesty in her tone before I say, “Again.” She rolls her eyes. They only make it halfway around when I state my terms. “The only term I want added is that if Antonio touches you, in any form, I get to remove the offending hand… as I did his father’s for hitting you.”
I study all her expressions when I cross the room, holding out my hand in offering. She’s calm and collected. The sole cause of the tremor running through her is from the spark that shoots up her arm when she slips her hand into mine. “Deal.”