Chapter 4 - The Vieri Bloodline
By midnight, Theo was fast asleep in a magnificent canopy bed in the suite next to mine—a room that looked like it had been converted from a royal nursery in a matter of hours, complete with hundreds of toys delivered by private courier.
I sat alone on the edge of the king-sized bed in my room, staring at the dark window.
The door clicked open.
Matteo walked in, carrying a glass of amber scotch. He had removed his suit jacket, his white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar, the sleeves rolled up to reveal dark, muscular forearms.
“He’s asleep,” Matteo said quietly, closing the door behind him.
“He was exhausted,” I replied without looking at him. “It’s been a long day of turning our lives upside down.”
Matteo walked over, setting the glass down on the bedside table, and sat down on the mattress beside me. The springs dipped under his weight. I stiffened, moving slightly away, but he reached out, gently catching my wrist.
His touch sent a familiar, electric shiver down my spine—a physical betrayal after six years of forced numbness.
“Look at me, Mara,” he commanded softly.
I turned my head, meeting his intense gray eyes.
“Why didn't you come back?” he asked, the question hanging in the air like an unexploded bomb. “Even after you had the baby... why didn't you reach out? Did you hate me that much?”
“It wasn't about hate, Matteo,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “It was about survival. When I found that ledger in your safe... when I saw what you were willing to do to keep your grip on the city... I knew that if my child grew up in your house, he would either become a monster like the men who worked for you, or he would die in the crossfire.”
“I would have protected him,” Matteo growled softly.
“From your own enemies? From your own brothers-in-arms?” I shook my head, tears finally spilling over my lashes. “You can’t protect anyone from yourself, Matteo. That’s your curse. You consume everything around you.”
Matteo didn't argue. He didn't raise his voice. He simply leaned forward, his forehead resting gently against mine, his breath warm against my skin.
“I was empty, Mara,” he whispered, his voice cracking with a rawness I had never heard from him before. “When I thought you died in that car crash... something inside me died too. I spent six years running an empire I didn't care about, surrounded by people I didn't trust, waiting for the day someone would finally put a bullet in my head so I could see you again.”
My breath hitched.
“And then today,” he continued, his hand sliding up to cup the back of my neck, his thumb tracing my jawline, “a little boy with your smile and my eyes walked into a diner and asked why his stranger’s face looked familiar. God must have a twisted sense of humor.”
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“Or a very specific plan,” I murmured.
Matteo’s lips brushed against mine—a hesitant, almost fearful kiss, as if he expected me to push him away. When I didn't, his arms wrapped around me, pulling me against his chest with a desperate, crushing strength that told me he would never, ever let us go.
