MATTEO
"I don't give a fuck how you get him off the balcony," Matteo growled into his phone, his grip tightening on the steering wheel as he sped down the highway toward Scarsdale. "Just bring him to the mansion and put him in the basement for me."
"Roger that," Luca replied from the speaker before repeating Matteo's demands to the rest of the Romano security detail.
Although he had half a mind to put a bullet in Francesco Russo's brain the moment he saw the coward crumpled in the fetal position on the balcony, Matteo couldn't bring himself to deny Val's whispered request: Take me home. Take me away from here.
He'd immediately carried her out of one of the hotel's back entrances to avoid causing a scene in the gala. While Val nuzzled her bruised face into his neck, he barked orders over the phone for Alfonso, one of Leonardo's private guards, to meet him outside and send other Romano guards to the south balcony, where they'd find a present waiting for them. Alfonso arrived at the Romano vehicles a minute after Matteo and Val, and fury lined the older man's face when he beheld the principessa's injuries.
Matteo explained what little of the situation he'd heard from Val and asked Alfonso to discreetly relay the situation to Leonardo and Adriano. He knew that the don and sottocapo would undoubtedly want revenge on the bastard Russo heir, but revenge meant war with the Russo famiglia. As much as Matteo wanted to end Franscesco's life, he'd let Leonardo make the call.
He received the keys to the armored sedan that Alfonso drove to the gala, leaving the SUV for the rest of the Romano attendees to use for transportation home. He carefully placed Val in the passenger seat and furiously sped out of the parking garage, only for his phone to ring five minutes later.
Luca was on the other line. Apparently, Alfonso had delivered Matteo's message to Leonardo, and the don wanted blood, consequences be damned.
Thank fuck, Matteo thought when he heard Leonardo demand Franscesco Russo's life in the background of the phone call. They'd make him suffer first, though. The Hollowman always enjoyed a bit of suffering before death.
"Alright, the don and Adriano are going to stay at the party a bit longer for appearances," Luca reported. "Lara is heading home early with the two guards that are transporting Franscesco to the Black Room. She wants to check on Val."
Hearing her name, Matteo risked a glance at the girl in the passenger seat beside him. She'd curled in on herself, her eyes closed as she clutched her legs to her chest. She looked so fuckin' breakable and fragile, but Matteo knew better. She was stronger than most men in the famiglia.
Guilt slammed into him like a freight train. This was his fault. He never should've taken his eyes off of her.
"That's good," Matteo muttered, his knuckles whitening as he squeezed the wheel again, searching for some outlet for the anger pulsing through his body.
"Alfonso and I will ride home in the SUV with Leonardo and Adriano," Luca continued, all business. "As of right now, it doesn't look like anyone from the Russos suspects anything. We'll see how long that lasts when they realize Franscesco is missing and there's blood spatter all over the balcony."
"They'll want leniency for him." Matteo rolled his eyes. His entire body rejected that idea, and red lined his vision again as he lowered his voice. "He'll be dead before Giovanni realizes that we are the ones who took him."
Out of the corner of his eye, Matteo saw Val shift. She opened her eyes, pain and worry clouding over the beautiful hazes. "I've gotta go. Call me if anything changes," he ordered, before pressing the red button on his phone screen and discarding the device in a cup holder.
"I-Is everything okay?" she murmured, her voice hoarse from her screams and cries during her fight against Francesco.
"Everything's fine, principessa," Matteo promised, reaching across the center console to wrap her left hand within his own. He squeezed twice. "You don't need to worry about anything. I'm taking you home and Lara is heading back, too. She'll take good care of you."
Val nodded, her swollen cheek twitching as she attempted a frown. "Is my father going to kill Francesco?"
"No," he murmured, releasing Val's delicate fingers to veer onto Exit 22. He returned his gaze to the road, if only to spare her from the bloodlust that undoubtedly gleamed in it. "I am."
***
VALENTINA
I am. Matteo's words washed over Val for the rest of their drive home.
A sinister promise. An enthralling threat. She should've been frightened by it, but nothing about Matteo frightened her. Perhaps that made her a bigger fool than she feared.
As time passed, the stinging and aching of Val's various injuries increased. When it came time to get out of the car, she almost whimpered and begged to stay put, if only to refrain from shifting and causing more discomfort. However, Matteo bent low to scoop her up in his arms again, and Val bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out as the entire right side of her body screamed. Fresh blood flooded her mouth.
She held onto his neck with her left arm as he carried her to her bedroom, the door swinging open and closed with the force of his push, and placed her on the edge of her bed. Val flinched, but she'd run out of tears to shed from pain. She just wished she'd go numb again.
"I know you probably want to shower and change, but Lara should probably help you bathe," Matteo murmured, taking a seat on the bed beside her. The mattress sank under his weight. "Can I get you anything?"
Val shook her head, her neck surprisingly stiff. "Just stay with me?"
Something like devastating guilt scrawled across his features, and he didn't seem to bother concealing it. He nodded, a subtle dip of his chin, and brushed a piece of her ruined updo behind her ear. "Always."
"Thank you," she whispered. Despite her aching body, Val scooted an inch closer to the hitman on the mattress, pressing the side of her body against his. She leaned her head on his shoulder, all too aware of how he stiffened at the contact. They were in her bedroom, after all, but Val couldn't care for the boundaries or the protection of her virtue. Not at that moment.
"Will you tell me what happened?" Matteo asked after a long beat of silence. "All of it?"
His question held a lethal, dark undertone. Like he wanted to know exactly what Franscesco had done to Val before facing the younger man. Like he wanted to know just how much pain to inflict before ending his life.
Val should've said no. She should've told him that she didn't want him to torture a man for her sake. She wasn't sure that she wanted that sort of blood on her consciousness. But the cold, vengeful part of herself – the part that had surged to the surface and helped her escape Franscesco's evil plans - wanted him to suffer. Finally, she nodded.
"I- I needed fresh air," she began, remembering the suffocating jealousy that had driven her to run from the ballroom in the first place. "He followed me to the balcony and said I shouldn't have run off without my guards."
She risked a quick glance up at Matteo, but he'd schooled his features into a cold, passive mask and stared straight ahead. Val swallowed and continued. "He doesn't like Ezra. Doesn't think I should marry an outsider. He said it's a waste of my pure blood..."
Matteo released a deep, ragged breath. A muscle in his strong jaw clenched and unclenched before he nodded. "Go on."
"I tried to get away from him, but he grabbed me. Insulted my father and asked for me to let him... have me. Wanted to show me what it's like to have a capo in..." Val paused, the words tasting like vinegar in her mouth. She shook her head, suddenly feeling dirty. She couldn't say Franscesco's true words. It felt too wrong. She hastily finished, "What it's like to have a capo in me. Then he tried to touch me."
She tried to suppress her shudder, her thighs unconsciously clenching together as if that might take away the dirty, cheap feeling at her core. For the first time, she felt Matteo's muscles shift like he teetered on the edge of control.
"I fought back," Val whispered, one corner of her lips twitching upward at the thought. "I-I think I broke his nose actually. I used the palm-heel strike you taught us."
Matteo glanced down at her, and the fire in his eyes softened in the slightest. "That's a good girl."
She risked a quick smile at his praise, then looked down at her lap, at the torn scraps of silk covering her legs, and her throat tightened again. "He got angry after that. He said..."
"He said what?" Matteo prompted, his voice as cold as ice.
She leaned away from his shoulder, almost ashamed to be touching him as she recalled Franscesco's vile words. She shook her head. "It-it's not important."
"Val," he warned, and she knew he wouldn't drop it.
"He said he would...fuck me bloody," she breathed the words, shame washing over her. "Then summon his brothers t-to ruin me for my outsider fiancé."
Matteo's entire body went still, but his hands, clasped between his knees, started to tremble. Like a ticking bomb, seconds from erupting. At that moment, Val knew she'd cemented Franscesco's fate, but she didn't want Matteo to leave. She worried he'd storm out of her bedroom to begin preparing for the moment that the Russo man arrived, so she reached over to clasp his shaking hands. A silent plea for him to stay.
"I tried running and he tackled me. Pinned me to the ground to...y'know." Val shook her head. She didn't need to detail that, not when Matteo already teetered on the edge of control. "But I got him off of me. Kicked him and hit him until he passed out. That's when you found me."
Matteo looked forward, his eyes distantly focusing on her bedroom's floor. His mind must've been somewhere else. Val squeezed his hand once, a desperate attempt to bring him back to her. "Thank you for finding me," she tried, the words more feeble than she intended.
His throat shifted, and a long silence stretched between them before he answered. "I never should've let you find yourself alone with that man – any man – in the first place. I-I should've been there. Why didn't you come find me before leaving the ballroom?"
Val didn't sense any blame on his words, only a quiet longing to understand. Another round of shame, this time deserved, swept through her, and her cheeks heated.
"I saw you speaking to that woman," she admitted. Speaking the words out loud, she realized how ridiculous she sounded. "The beautiful woman from Lo Specchio. The one that sat next to you at Postiglione. You were standing so close to one another, and you took her hand and...I was jealous."
Val hated speaking the truth but knew that Matteo would see through her lies. She didn't dare look up, afraid of what she'd see on his face. Pity? Annoyance?
He sighed and brought his spare hand up to his brow, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're talking about Teresa." He sounded angry. "She's a thorn in my side. She's married to one of your father's oldest capos but hates the man. She likes to...pursue other men."
"Including you?" Val felt silly for asking. "Has she ever successfully pursued you?"
Another sigh, and then a groaned admittance. "Yes. Once. Several months ago."
Val nodded slowly, fresh jealousy twisting in her gut. She'd expected as much, but it hurt to hear Matteo say it aloud. Slowly, she removed her hand from his and clamped her lips shut, preventing herself from asking another probing, improper question. She wouldn't push him to disclose more.
But Matteo surprised her by retaking her hand before she could entirely pull away and explained further. "She's expressed interest in wanting something more from me, but I'd be content to never see her again. You shouldn't be jealous of her, principessa."
A kindling of relief swept through Val, but she remained quiet, even as she risked a glance up at him for the first time since he mentioned Teresa. Sincerity lined his eyes, and it comforted her to know that he spoke the truth. Her fingers traced his rough palm, and one final, inappropriate question bubbled to her lips.
"Did–" she began, but quickly stopped herself. "Or, nevermind."
"What?" Matteo prompted, brows furrowing in concern. "Val, please. You can ask me anything."
Val swallowed, narrowing her eyes as she debated whether that was the truth. So often, he'd snapped when she bothered him with her childish, probing lines of questions. Especially regarding his personal life. And yet, Matteo's eyes searched hers, begging her to speak to him, as if the fright of finding her on that balcony had shifted something in him.
She sighed, her teeth scraping her bottom lip. "Did you ever...kiss her?"
She didn't know why she wanted to know. Perhaps because Matteo had denied her that simple pleasure, and she wasn't sure if she could handle the thought of him allowing another woman that intimate contact instead.
To her surprise, a small smile tugged on his lips, and he shook his head with a huffed chuckle. "No, I didn't kiss her, princess."
"Okay," Val whispered, tearing her eyes away from him before he could witness the silly happiness pooling in them.
She should have been pleased with that. Should have sat back a safe distance from Matteo on the bed and requested a glass of water or a wet rag to clean the blood off of her body before Lara arrived. But she wanted more. One last piece of Matteo while he still opened himself to her, while he still looked at her with something more than lust in his eyes.
She took a deep breath and mustered her courage. "Why won't you kiss me?"