Chapter Thirty-Eight #3
They offer him nothing.
No embarrassment.
No apology.
No challenge.
They are here because I asked them to be.
I turn to the next page.
“No threats against Marco, Gio, or anyone associated with this house.”
“And the damage Marco has already done to my organization?”
“That stops when you sign.”
Matteo looks at Marco.
“You attacked my businesses.”
“You took my wife.”
“You were doing it before she came to Barrington.”
“You demanded an annulment before you took her.”
“This is precisely why she needs protection from you.”
I close the folder.
Both men fall silent.
“This isn’t a negotiation between the two of you.”
Matteo looks at me.
“Marco stops the financial attacks,” I say. “You stop threatening this family. Neither side retaliates.”
“And if he breaks the agreement?”
“Then you bring the proof to me.”
“You?”
“Yes.”
A faint line appears between his eyebrows.
“You expect to stand between two families.”
“I already am.”
Gio’s hand settles lightly against my knee.
Matteo notices.
Again, he says nothing.
“The final term,” I say, “is me.”
His attention returns to my face.
“Any calls, visits, or meetings happen when I agree to them. You do not arrive uninvited. You do not send gifts I haven’t accepted. You do not purchase property in my name.”
“I bought you a home.”
“You bought yourself a place to put me.”
Pain crosses his face.
“That wasn’t my intention.”
“It was the result.”
He looks at the papers.
“And if I don’t agree?”
“Then you lose me.”
The words hurt.
I let them.
“No calls,” I continue. “No visits. No photographs. No chance to tell me about my mother.”
“You would do that?”
“I escaped your house barefoot.”
Silence settles over the room.
Matteo looks toward the windows.
Beyond them, the east lawn slopes toward the pool. Angela’s roses bloom along the stone wall.
No guards stand inside the room.
The front door is unlocked.
Matteo could leave at any time.
So could I.
“I am your father,” he says.
“You might become my father.”
His eyes meet mine.
“But you are not my owner.”
His expression breaks, but only for a moment.
“I don’t know how to do this,” he admits.
It is the first honest thing he has said since he arrived.
“Neither do I.”
“You expect me to trust them with you.”
“No. I expect you to trust me with myself.”
He looks at the envelope for a long time.
Then he opens it.
He reads every page.
Marco would do the same.
When Matteo reaches the final signature line, he takes out his pen.
His hand pauses above the paper.
“If I agree, will you come back to Barrington?”
“Not yet.”
“Will you see me?”
“When I’m ready.”
“That could be months.”
“Yes.”
His mouth tightens.
He signs anyway.
I release a breath.
Matteo closes the folder.
“What happens now?”
“You leave.”
Pain flashes across his face.
I stand.
Then I cross the space between us.
He rises slowly.
“I’m not saying goodbye forever,” I tell him.
“You expect that to be enough?”
“It has to be.”
He looks at me as if he is trying to memorize my face.
“May I hug you?”
The question matters more than he understands.
I nod.
His arms close around me.
For one second, I feel the father I might have had.
Then he releases me.
He doesn’t try to hold on.
Dario escorts him to the door.
Matteo looks back once.
“I loved your mother.”
“I know that.”
“She would have wanted you safe.”
“She would have wanted me free too.”
He lowers his head.
Then he leaves.
The front door closes behind him.
No lock engages.
I return to the living room.
Marco stands near the fireplace. Gio remains beside the sofa.
Neither asks if I’m all right.
They know I’m not.
They also know I will be.
“I meant what I said to him,” I tell Marco.
“About what?”
“Destroying the papers doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven everything.”
“I know.”
“I may be angry with you for a long time.”
“I know.”
“And choosing this marriage doesn’t give you the right to start making decisions for me again.”
“It doesn’t.”
“If you do, I’ll leave.”
“I’ll open the gate for you.”
The answer comes without hesitation.
I study him.
He means it.
Gio rises from the sofa.
“And what are my terms?”
I look at him.
“Stop using humor every time you’re afraid.”
His smile disappears.
“That seems excessive.”
“Gio.”
“I’ll try.”
I hold out my hand.
He takes it.
Then I offer the other to Marco.
He crosses the room and closes his fingers around mine.
For most of my life, men have told me where I belong.
Viktor decided I belonged behind a locked door.
Matteo decided I belonged to his family.
Even Marco once decided I belonged wherever his strategy required me to be.
Now both brothers wait for me to move first.
So I do.
I pull Marco close and kiss him.
His hands settle carefully at my waist.
When I release him, I turn to Gio.
He touches my face before bending to kiss me.
Marco remains behind me, one hand resting against my hip.
There is no competition in the way they hold me.
No demand.
No expectation that I give one of them less because I want the other.
I lean back against Marco while Gio’s forehead rests against mine.
Then I take each of them by the hand and lead them upstairs.