Matteo’s expression shifted immediately. He leaned forward, closing the space between us, his voice lower now.
“Hey.” His fingers brushed my knuckles, then curled around my hand. “Names don’t change who you are. And they definitely don’t take anything away from you. I’m sorry it all had to happen this way.”
I looked at him, searching his face for something – anger, resentment, distance. There was none of it.
Just calm. Steady warmth.
“You’re still Francesca,” he continued. “Exactly as you were this morning. Exactly as you were when I first met you.”
Something in my chest loosened.
I nodded, unable to trust my voice.
His thumb traced slow circles over my skin, grounding, reassuring. Despite everything – despite the tension, the fight, the unspoken lines between us – he didn’t let go.
Neither did I.
The limo rolled forward, carrying us away from the church, away from the moment we’d just staged so perfectly.
And there we were, sitting side by side, fingers intertwined like it was the most natural thing in the world.
By the time we arrived at the DeMone estate, the sky over the Hamptons had softened into a pale blush, the kind that made everything feel suspended between reality and fantasy. The ballroom glowed – crystal chandeliers, tall arched windows, white florals everywhere. It was elegant, excessive, exactly what was expected.
Matteo and I were seated side by side at the main round table, close enough that our knees brushed when we shifted. Around us sat our friends – Maria and Zach stealing kisses, Natalia tucked into Trevor’s side with his hand protectively over her stomach, Kali laughing loudly at something Zane said.
My brothers, Gìovanni and Antonio, were at another table across the room, with my family, already deep in conversation with the rest of the made men.
After pleasantries were exchanged, Maria and Kali stood and made the guys to my side switch with them, insisting we had more important things to talk about, but promised to switch back when the food arrived.
Matteo leaned slightly toward Zach, who sat to his other side, already pulled into conversation with the guys, relaxed and charming, a glass of wine in his hand.
Meanwhile, I turned toward the girls, bracing myself for the interrogation I knew was coming.
“So,” Kali started immediately, eyes sparkling, “That kiss at the altar?”
Natalia leaned in, her smile knowing. “Yeah. Because that didnotlook fake.”
Maria grinned, unapologetic. “At all.”
Heat crept up my neck. “That was kind of the point,” I said, lifting my glass as casually as I could. “Convincing.”
Kali hummed. “Convincing is one word.”
Their eyes didn’t leave me.
“So, Matteo…” Natalia added lightly, like she wasn’t absolutely dissecting me. “Zach’s older brother, huh?”
I exhaled through a smile. “Yes. That Matteo.”
They waited.
I shifted in my seat, acutely aware of Matteo’s arm resting behind me on the chair, of how solid he felt next to me even while focused elsewhere.
“He’s… exactly what you think he is,” I said carefully.
That only made it worse.
Maria laughed. “That tells us nothing.”
