Chapter 9 Matteo
MATTEO
It had been a day since the crash. I had to move, to do something, to make everyone smile again and leave the haze of the last day.
So I called a meeting with a brilliant idea.
We were all crammed into Alexander’s hotel suite like it was a boardroom and not the nicest room on the floor.
The place smelled like the fresh espresso and pastries we had delivered.
Lucia and Alexander sat curled together on the couch, Gianna giggling on the floor beside them making her tiny racecars zoom along a makeshift track built from throw pillows and a room service tray.
Nicola was parked against the wall, eyes glued to her phone.
I clapped my hands once, all enthusiasm. “All right, I have a master plan.”
Gianna didn’t miss a beat—revving one of her cars and yelling, “Go go go!”
“That’s what you’re calling it?” Nicola said, finally glancing up with a skeptical arch of her brow.
“No one asked for your opinion, Princess,” I shot back, aiming a half-hearted glare at her.
“Don’t be rude,” Lucia chimed in, narrowing her eyes at me.
I sighed. “Okay, okay. But seriously, I have a plan.”
Alexander, scrolling his phone like he was trying to fall into it, didn’t even look up.
Since he was being forced to rest after the crash, he had been locked in on the gossip sites that were whirling about him being a loose cannon or hothead after he punched Lucia’s ex who had been harassing her, spinning him into someone he absolutely was not.
“What exactly is this so-called plan?” he asked flatly, voice edged with exhaustion.
I walked over, plucked the phone from his hand, and tossed it across the room.
“Seriously, mate?” he snapped, jerking upright. “You had to bloody throw it?”
“Yes, pay attention,” I said with a shrug.
Lucia looked over to Alexander, the worry clear on her face.
I knew that look—she was checking out and zeroing in on Alexander instead.
So I focused on Nicola. “Listen, I couldn’t stop thinking—about how we finally have a week off.
No races. No sponsor events. No drama. Just relaxation. ”
“Suspicious,” Nicola muttered.
“So,” I continued, pacing, “Why not take advantage of it? Recharge. Eat real food. Drink a little wine. Maybe not almost-die for seven straight days. A holiday.”
Gianna sat up straighter. “Holiday?” she said all the syllables smashed together.
“Yup. I planned the whole thing. Anna handled the logistics—obviously. She booked us this super fancy private villa. We’re taking Alexander’s jet—thanks, mate—and we’re going to the seaside,” I said, hands outstretched.
“One week in Portofino. The views are unreal, the food is basically heaven, and the town is so quiet we might even go unrecognized—assuming Alexander wears a hoodie and sunglasses and doesn’t speak.
One week to ignore our phones and float in the sea. ”
Nicola finally glanced up. “You’re bribing us with a holiday in exchange for a digital detox?”
“No,” I said, pointing at her. “I’m inviting you to relax for the first time in your life. You’re welcome.”
I received a patented Nicola glare. “But picture this: wine tastings. Sunsets over the sea. Fresh pasta. Gianna eating gelato the size of her head.”
Gianna stood up like a queen delivering a command. “I want pink gelato!”
“There will be so much pink gelato,” I promised solemnly. “Endless pink gelato, Your Majesty.”
“Yay!”
I turned back to the group, smug. “See? It’s already a success. Right, so in conclusion, since you two are in love and refusing to admit it—” I gestured at Lucia and Alexander.
Lucia choked. “Wait, what?”
“—Nicola here is miserable or moody or whatever—”
“Hey!” Nicola protested genuinely offended.
“—and Gianna is clearly a Moretti fan, not a Belen fan—red is better, come on—the only solution is obvious: we should all go on vacation.”
Lucia turned to Alexander, stunned. “I’m sorry—what? Did you just say we’re in love? Where the hell did that come from?”
Alexander looked equally thrown. “And how does any of this even connect?”
Nicola muttered, “I am a ray of sunshine.”
“Way to just jump the gun, bud,” Alexander added, dry as ever.
Gianna perked up, eyes wide and curious. “Who’s in love?”
“It’s nothing, baby,” Lucia said quickly, scooping her up and heading to the balcony, Alexander immediately following behind.
My gaze caught, anxiety taking root that my words upset my sister.
I loved Lucia, I loved Alexander, and they obviously loved each other, so it was about damn time they admitted it.
Nicola tilted her head. “And there’s enough space at this place?”
“Plenty,” I nodded. “Everyone gets their own room. Monty can come if you want. There’s a private pool, beach access, and a kitchen we’re absolutely not going to use.”
Nicola narrowed her eyes. “What’s the catch, DeLuca?”
“No catch,” I grinned. “Just vibes. And wine.” She stared at me too long, like she was trying not to smile. Gianna ran back inside and began twirling in her dress.
“Can we play princesses on holiday?” Gianna asked, eyes going large and bottom lip jutting out. I sighed, as if I could ever say no to this one.
“Of course!” I scooped her into my arms and spun her around. Then, I planted her right in front of me as we both stared over at the feisty brunette. I needed maximum impact here. “Nicola? You on board?”
She sighed, long and dramatic. “Fine. But if you play the Mamma Mia! soundtrack unironically, I’m stealing your passport.”
I beamed. “So that’s a yes?”
She crossed her arms. “It’s a threat, DeLuca.”
We sat for a while, spying on the two on the balcony before Nicola spoke up in barely a whisper, “I’m not miserable.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been extra spiteful lately.” Her gaze flickered,the tiniest crack in the wall. “Relaxation would be good for everyone,” I added gently.
She exhaled like she wanted to say something else, then hesitated.
“There’s this event I’m trying to show that I can lead.
It’s important. And I—” She stopped mid-sentence, the softness disappearing as quickly as it came.
Her shoulders went rigid again. “But who can say no to a free trip and the beach?” she said with a plastic smile.
Something was off—more than usual. She was hiding something.
“There will be Wi-Fi,” I said, more carefully now. “I was being dramatic. I just…thought we could all use a break.”
“It’s a good idea, Matteo.” Her voice was quiet, and for once, real. She swatted my arm and pointed out the window where my sister was kissing my best friend.
“About damn time!” Nicola shouted across the room.They turned and smiled at us, and I couldn’t help my own smile grow. Mission complete.
“So I booked us all on a flight in an hour to Italy,” I announced.
“Yeah, not a chance.” Nicola glared. Alexander and Lucia walked back in.
“Mate, what do you mean you booked a flight?”
“I texted Anna!” I said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Hmm.” Alexander picked up his phone and started typing. After a minute he looked over to Lucia. “How about tomorrow, Angel? Is that enough time?”
“That’s better than in an hour,” she laughed.
“Thank God.” Nicola rolled her eyes.
“Maybe we can find you a hot vacation man?” Lucia whispered not at all quietly to Nicola. My blood immediately started boiling. Maybe the fuck not.
Nicola’s eyes glanced at me for only a second before snapping back to Lucia.
“Sounds perfect!” Her voice was too high, too cheery. She flashed an all too-bright smile and headed for the door.
Nicola had shut down before my eyes.
I didn’t like that.
I stomped out the door, right after her. I caught sight of Nicola halfway down the hallway, walking fast, her heels clicking sharply on the marble floor like warning shots.
“Nicola!” I called, jogging to catch up. She didn’t slow down.
“Nicola, come on—” I reached for her arm.
She spun around so fast I almost collided with her.
“What, Matteo?” she snapped. “You got your yes. Everyone’s onboard. Congrats on your team bonding vacation or whatever.”
I blinked at her, thrown. “Why are you being like this? You were fine ten minutes ago.”
Her laugh was hollow. “Fine? That’s rich. You stormed in, tossed a phone across the room, dropped a bomb about your sister and best friend being in love like it’s a game, and then roped me into a romantic seaside group trip I didn’t ask for.”
“It’s a holiday,” I said. “A break. I thought maybe you’d want that. God forbid you take one second to breathe.”
“I breathe just fine, thanks,” she said, her jaw tight. “And don’t act like you did this for me.”
I stepped in, too close now, deliberately so. “And what if I did?”
She flinched like I’d struck a nerve but didn’t back away. “Then you’re an idiot.”
“Why?” I demanded, voice low. “Because I want you to stop killing yourself trying to prove something to people who already know you’re good at your job? Or maybe because I’m sick of watching you act like you don’t care when I know you do.”
Her eyes flashed. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“Don’t I?” I said, and that time, my voice was rough. “I know you hide behind sarcasm and late nights and that fucking phone. I know you’re tired, and you won’t admit it. And I know you’re scared shitless to let anyone take care of you.”
She stared at me, furious and breathless, and for a second, I thought she might slap me.
Instead, she hissed, “Fuck off.”
I blinked. “Fine.”
I started to step back but she grabbed my shirt and yanked me forward.
Our mouths crashed together like we were trying to win a fight with teeth and lips and frustration. She tasted like coffee and tension, and something sweet I couldn’t name. I slid one hand into her hair, the other gripping her waist, hauling her closer as her back hit the wall with a soft thud.
She pulled away first, breathing hard, eyes wide, lips swollen. “That was a mistake.”
I smirked, breathless. “Didn’t feel like one.”
“I’m still mad at you.”
“Yeah?” I murmured, leaning in until our noses brush. “You gonna slap me or kiss me again?”
She grabbed me by the collar, yanking me back in, and this time it was deeper, messier.
Her hands in my hair, my thumbs digging into her hips.
I kissed her like I was starving and she was the only thing that could ever satisfy me.
She moaned low in her throat, and I nearly lost it right there in the damn hallway.
When we finally broke apart, we were both gasping, chests heaving.
“Still mad?” I asked, voice wrecked.
She glared at me. “Yes.”
But she didn’t move away.
Neither did I.