“You’ll see.”
I click Play on the screen since his phone is linked to Bluetooth, and the craziest song starts to play.
“What is this?” I yell, clicking Next, only for another insane song to start up.
Matteo chuckles and clicks a few buttons, and then a normal song begins to play.
“That was my training playlist. It gets me pumped.”
“You listen to that the entire time you’re training?” I scoff. “It’s no wonder you’re so angry. A few minutes of listening to that, and I’d want to murder someone too.”
Matteo throws his head back with a laugh, and my eyes go to his throat, where his Adam’s apple bobs.
“You see that there?” He pulls onto the side of the road, next to what looks like a construction site. “That’s the waterfront expansion our brothers have been working on. It’s going to be badass. I’m talking hotels, restaurants, condominium developments, shopping. It’s going to be a game changer for everyone involved.”
My brother told me about it, and I’ve been excited to start working alongside him so I can learn, but seeing it in person, even though it’s nowhere near done, is surreal. My heart swells with pride that my brother is part of something like this. All the years of Dad training him, and he not only slid into Dad’s shoes, but he surpassed him.
“I hope whatever Enrique is doing doesn’t mess with it.”
“Nah, he can’t touch this. Besides”—he turns to look at me—“you remember the papers I had you sign the other day?”
I nod.
Last week, Matteo came home with a stack of papers that he said needed to be signed so his attorney could start the process of getting my marriage annulled since he had proof that Enrique had stolen someone’s identity, as well as getting the POA reverted to me.
“I was going to tell you at dinner, but while you were getting ready, Kevin texted me. He pulled some strings and was able to get your annulment expeditedandget your power of attorney reverted. Enrique can’t touch shit.”
“Wow,” I breathe, feeling like the biggest weight has been lifted off my shoulders. “Thank you.”
“Margie, the director of operations at Russo Property Group, has already started damage control, but from what she said, he didn’t have enough time to do much.”
“God, Enrique’s going to be so pissed,” I say, glancing out the window.
“Yeah, which is why it’s imperative you don’t go anywhere without me. And when we do go out, you always stay with me.”
“I know.” I reach across the center console and squeeze his hand. “Thank you for everything. My brother is lucky to have a best friend like you.”
A few minutes later,we arrive at a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant called Pasquale’s. The outside has a cute red-white-and-green awning, and the brick walls remind me of pictures of the small towns in Italy I’ve seen.
When we step onto the sidewalk, a few men who are milling about nod respectfully to Matteo, telling me he frequents this place often.
Matteo opens the door for me, and when I walk inside, Italian music is playing, and the restaurant looks like we just stepped into Italy.
“This place is adorable,” I tell him.
“Really?”
“Can you not see it? I’ve never been to Italy—which is probably a crime in and of itself since my family is Italian—but this is how all the pictures that my mom and dad used to show me looked.”
Matteo nods once, but for some reason, the carefree demeanor I felt from him just a moment ago is gone. I don’t know what I said, but before I can ask, an older woman comes barreling over to give Matteo a hug. She speaks to him in Italian, and he responds. I understand enough Italian from hearing my parents speak it, but since he’s Russian and speaks the language, I’m surprised he also knows Italian.
“Daniella,” the woman says, embracing me in a hug. “It’s been so many years. Your brother talks about you so much. And your parents …” She sniffles. “Te sei bellisima, just like your mama.”
“You knew my mom?” I whisper.
“Oh, yes. You were so little when you came here, and then they kept you away.” She tsks. “But I’m so happy you’re here now.”
“Thank you.”
