Chapter Thirty-Eight #2
In the morning light, the twins look even more alike. Gio’s tattoos create the greatest difference between them.
That and the way they watch me.
Gio’s expression reveals everything.
Marco’s reveals only what he allows.
I trace the script along Marco’s ribs.
His stomach tightens beneath my fingers.
“You really don’t have any others?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“One permanent decision seemed sufficient.”
Gio opens one eye.
“He hates needles.”
Marco looks offended.
“I’ve been shot.”
“So have I. That doesn’t answer the question.”
I laugh.
The sound feels strange after the last four days.
Good.
I bend and press my lips to the tattoo.
Marco goes very still.
When I lift my head, something warm and unguarded has entered his eyes.
I kiss him.
Gio watches from behind me.
When I turn, his expression is soft.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“I found something worth looking at.”
I recognize the words from the pool.
This time, they don’t end with me walking away.
I kiss him too.
Then I settle between them and draw Marco’s arm around my waist.
His hand comes to rest over Gio’s.
Both brothers go still.
“This is all right,” I say.
Marco’s breath moves against my hair.
“Yes.”
Gio presses a kiss to my temple.
No one tries to define it.
No one asks what comes next.
For now, I am exactly where I choose to be.
#
The next three days pass quietly.
Angela changes the bandages on my feet every morning and complains whenever she catches me walking without shoes. Dario’s bruises begin to fade. Bruno abandons the sling after one day, though he continues using his injured shoulder as an excuse to make other people carry things.
Neither man blames me for ordering them to stand down.
That almost makes it worse.
“I left you there,” Dario says when I try to apologize.
“You would have been killed if you stayed.”
“That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
Bruno nods from across the kitchen table.
“We followed your order,” he says. “Next time, give us a better one.”
It is the closest either of them comes to admitting how frightened they were.
Evelyn arrives on the second afternoon.
We spend four hours in my mother’s study writing the terms for Matteo. I begin with three pages. By the time we finish, there are seven.
Marco answers questions when I ask them. He explains which agreements will stop the financial pressure against the Moretti organization and what language will prevent either family from retaliating later.
He never touches the documents.
Gio brings lunch and remains until Evelyn threatens to bill him for distracting her. He leaves behind a plate of sandwiches and three increasingly ridiculous suggestions for penalties if Matteo violates the agreement.
I reject all of them.
I keep one in the margin.
At night, both brothers sleep in my room.
Nothing more happens.
Gio curls around me as though he can keep the nightmares away through physical determination. Marco lies on my other side, never touching me until I reach for him.
The first night, I wake twice.
The second, only once.
On the third morning, sunlight is moving across the carpet when I open my eyes. Gio’s hand rests against my waist. Marco is already awake beside me, reading something on his phone with the brightness turned low.
Neither realizes I’m watching.
For the first time since escaping Barrington, I don’t begin the day by counting doors, guards, or hours.
I listen to them breathe.
Then I get out of bed and call Evelyn.
“Send the terms,” I tell her. “He can come tomorrow.”
“What time?”
I look toward the brothers.
Neither asks what I’ve decided.
“Three,” I say. “And make it clear that he waits at the gate until I’m ready.”
#
Matteo comes to Belmont at three the following afternoon.
I make him wait.
Not to punish him.
Because this time, the meeting begins when I decide it does.
He arrives with two vehicles and six guards.
Marco doesn’t allow them through the gate.
Matteo enters alone.
Dario checks him for weapons in the foyer.
He submits without complaint, although his mouth becomes a hard line when Dario removes a knife from his ankle.
“Habit,” Matteo says.
“So is locking doors,” I reply.
His attention snaps toward me.
I stand at the entrance to the living room.
Gio is on my right.
Marco is on my left.
Neither man speaks.
I asked them to be here, but they know I don’t need them to speak for me.
Matteo looks tired.
Older.
His gaze drops to the sapphire at my throat.
“You kept it.”
“It belonged to my mother.”
“Yes.”
That is the correct answer.
I gesture toward the living room.
“Sit.”
Matteo takes the chair across from the sofa.
I sit between Marco and Gio.
The position isn’t an accident.
Matteo notices Gio’s knee against mine. He notices Marco’s hand resting near my hip.
He says nothing.
An envelope sits on the coffee table.
My terms.
Evelyn sent a copy to Matteo’s attorney yesterday. Marco has already signed the provisions ending the financial pressure against the Moretti organization.
Matteo knows what the document contains.
I want him to hear the terms from me.
“My attorney prepared these,” I say.
“Your attorney?”
“Mine. Not Marco’s.”
Matteo looks at my husband.
Marco remains silent.
“You received them yesterday,” I continue.
“I want to hear them from you.”
“No guards I haven’t approved.”
“You need protection.”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t have security. I said I choose who provides it.”
“The Catenzios?”
“If I choose.”
His jaw tightens.
I continue.
“You will make no claim against the Rossi trust. You will not attempt to consolidate it with the Moretti assets.”
“Those assets are part of your family legacy.”
“They belong to me.”
“I could protect them.”
“I’ve heard that word enough.”
He looks down at the envelope.
“What else?”
“No interference with my marriage.”
His gaze returns to me.
“You have grounds for an annulment.”
“If I want one, I’ll pursue it.”
“Lucia—”
“No attorneys sent to persuade me. No public challenge to the marriage. No pressure through the church or the courts.”
“You expect me to approve of what he did?”
“No. I expect you to respect what I decide now.”
Matteo looks at Marco.
“He admits he coerced you.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re staying.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because when it mattered, he gave me the choice to leave.”
“That absolves him?”
“No.”
Marco shifts beside me.
I place my hand over his before he can move it away.
“He will spend a long time making amends for what he did,” I say. “That is between us.”
“And Gio?”
Gio leans back.
“What about me?”
“You are involved with my daughter while she is married to your brother.”
“Yes.”
The blunt answer startles him.
“Gio,” I warn.
“What? He asked.”
Matteo looks at me.
“Is this what you want?”
“Yes.”
His expression reveals nothing, but color rises along his throat.
“What happens inside this house is not yours to control,” I say. “You don’t have to understand it.”
“You expect me to accept it.”
“I expect you not to interfere.”
His gaze moves between the brothers.