Chapter 9 Sierra
SIERRA
He’s here.
I spot Matteo the second I step behind the bar, in the same spot as the last two nights. End seat, eyes scanning the crowd like he’s cataloging every face, every exit. The man doesn’t know how to relax. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to.
I grab a glass, fill it with soda, and walk over. My pulse kicks up a notch. It’s annoying how aware I am of him now. The way his broad shoulders fill out that black T-shirt, the hard line of his jaw, the way those blue eyes track me as I move closer.
I set the glass down in front of him and lean my forearms on the bar, tilting my head. “Guess you just can’t stay away.”
Not even a flicker of a smile. “You make a decision?”
Straight to it. No small talk. No flirting back.
“You’re really blunt, you know that?”
“Yeah.” His gaze doesn’t waver. “Viktor contact you today?”
I try not to flinch. Fail.
“No, but...” My voice trails off, and I hate the tremor in it.
“What?” His gaze sharpens.
“I saw him drive by my apartment earlier. Before my shift.”
His fingers tighten around his glass. The muscle in his jaw ticks once, twice. He looks more bothered by this than I expected, and I don’t know what to do with that. I thought he’d be excited that there was a sighting.
I should get back to work. Nell keeps shooting me curious glances from the other end of the bar, and I’ve got a row of empty glasses that need refilling. But my feet stay planted.
“What’s really in this for you?”
“I told you, Viktor is my enemy.”
“Yeah, but there’s got to be more to it.” I don’t know why I’m so sure. I barely know this man. But I feel it, deep in my gut. “What is it?”
For a long moment, he just stares at me. Then he looks away, jaw working like he’s wrestling with something he doesn’t want to say.
“I don’t like seeing women get hurt.” He says it like a secret.
My heart stutters.
I see it then—the flicker of something vulnerable in his eyes, gone as fast as it came. He shifts his weight, uncomfortable, like he’s said too much. But he doesn’t take it back.
And God, it does something to me.
My stomach tightens, warmth spreading through me that has nothing to do with the crowded bar or the heat of the overhead lights. This man, this gruff, dangerous, terrifying man, has a soft spot. And he just showed it to me.
“Okay,” I say quietly.
“Okay what?”
“I’ll do it.” I swallow, forcing the words out before I can second-guess myself. “I’ll marry you.”
His eyes narrow. “You’re agreeing to marry me?”
Marry him. A man I’ve known for three days.
This is insane. This is absolutely, certifiably insane.
“Yes.” I force my voice to stay steady. “I’ll do it.”
His shoulders drop, tension bleeding out of him so fast it’s almost startling. He was worried I’d say no.
I didn’t expect that.
“So how does this work?” I ask. “Do you have an actual plan, or are we just winging it?”
“Both.” The ghost of something like amusement crosses his face. “We announce the engagement soon. Spend time together in public. Make it look real.”
“And if that doesn’t draw him out?”
“Then we get married in three weeks.”
Holy shit.
The words hit me like a bucket of ice water to the face. “That’s... that’s really soon.”
“It’s not a real marriage.” His tone is matter-of-fact. Practical. Like we’re discussing dinner plans instead of legally binding ourselves together. “The wedding’s legal, but it doesn’t have to be anything big. Keep it simple.”
“Does it have to be real? Like, legally real?”
“Yeah.” His tone hardens. “Viktor’ll know if it’s fake. The Bratva’s got people everywhere, same as us. A real marriage license makes it real. That’s what’ll piss him off.”
Right. Of course. Because apparently, criminal organizations have access to government databases. Why wouldn’t they?
“And if you get your hands on Viktor before the wedding?” I look at him. “Do we call the whole thing off?”
“No.” His answer is firm.
“No?”
“You’ll have already been seen with me. The engagement will be public.” His eyes hold mine, steady and certain. “If something happens to Viktor, the Bratva will know I did it. And they’ll know you matter to me. That makes you a target.”
My stomach drops. I hadn’t thought that far ahead.
I must look as overwhelmed as I feel, because Matteo’s voice softens. Just a fraction.
“Focus on what matters. The marriage protects you. Not just because I’ll be there, but because you’ll be one of us. The Andrettis take care of their own.”
One of them. Part of his world. The thought should terrify me, and it does, but there’s relief there too.
“I appreciate what you’re doing.” I meet his eyes, let him see that I mean it. “Having someone like you on my side... it’s been so hard dealing with Viktor alone. Having a friend who—”
“We’re not friends.”
The words cut through my sentence like a blade. His gaze drops to his drink, and his jaw goes tight again.
“This is business. That’s all.”
Hurt flickers through me, but I push it down. He’s building walls again. Fine. I can handle that.
“Right,” I say lightly. “Business.”
“I’ll still walk you home tonight.” His voice is flat. “In case he’s waiting.”
“Sure.” I push off the bar, already turning away. “Thanks for the heads-up on what this is.”
I don’t look back as I head toward the row of waiting customers. Don’t let him see the way my smile falters or how my hands aren’t quite steady as I grab for a bottle of vodka.
But as I pour drinks and make small talk and pretend everything is fine, a smile tugs at the corner of my mouth.
He can build all the walls he wants. He can call this business and pretend he doesn’t care. But I saw his face when I mentioned Viktor driving by my apartment. I heard the rough edge in his voice when he admitted he doesn’t like seeing women get hurt.
Matteo isn’t as cold as he wants me to believe.
And when I catch him watching me a few minutes later, something tightens low in my belly. Something I don’t have time for right now.
I turn back to my customers and pretend I don’t feel his gaze on my skin for the rest of my shift.