“That sounds great,” I offer, trying to sound merely curious rather than desperately fishing for information.
“It is, in its way.” She pauses again. “They protect their own.”
The words send a shiver down my spine. “Protect,” I repeat, the word tasting strange on my tongue.
“Mhmm. Lorenzo’s cousins are especially tight. Remus runs most of the family business. Rafe handles… other aspects. And Matteo is…”
My breath catches at the last name. “Matteo?”
“Yeah, one of Enzo’s cousins. Have you met him? He sometimes comes to events, so it wouldn’t surprise me if he’d been to one of yours.”
I grip the phone tighter. “No, I don’t think so. What’s he like?” I deserve a gold star for how casual the question sounds, like I’m just making conversation rather than interrogating her about the man who’ll become my fake boyfriend.
Piper laughs. “Matteo’s like… actually, he reminds me of you.”
“Sounds like a compliment if you ask me,” I quip.
“Ha, ha,” she deadpans. “No, he’s alright. I mean, he’s the kind of person who sets fire and swears it was an accident because what he really meant to do was light the explosives. Wait, don’ttell Enzo I said that. The cousins are weirdly protective of each other.”
I scoff. “And when would I tell Lorenzo? During our weekly BFF chats?”
Piper laughs harder, probably realizing how stupid the idea of me telling her husband anything is. He blames me for Piper getting drugged and almost raped over two years ago. I blame him for global warming. It’s a winning system.
“Anyway,” I murmur, my free hand moves unconsciously to my wrist, remembering the feel of Matteo’s belt wrapped tight around it. “He sounds… interesting.”
“That’s one word for it,” Piper says dryly. “He’s got this whole scarred bad-boy thing going on that makes women throw themselves at him. And ever since the explosion last year… well, it doesn’t matter.”
The vagueness makes me want to scream, but since that doesn’t seem like a good idea, I settle for a noncommittal “Hmm.”
“Why the sudden interest in my husband’s family?” Piper asks, her tone shifting to something more suspicious. “You’ve never asked about them before.”
Shit. I force a casual laugh. “Just making small talk. You know how boring my love life is these days. Living vicariously through your fancy Mafia-adjacent lifestyle.”
“Lee,” Piper’s voice drops lower, more serious. “They’re not…” She stops herself. “It’s not like in the movies, okay? They do have legitimate businesses.”
“Of course,” I backpedal quickly. “I didn’t mean anything by it. Just teasing.”
There’s a beat of silence before Piper sighs. “Sorry, I’m being paranoid. Enzo gets touchy about family stuff.”
“No problem. So tell me more about this underwater dress situation,” I redirect, desperate to move away from dangerous territory.
She launches into details about the gala, and I make appropriate noises of horror and amusement while my mind races. None of what she’s said tells me what I really need to know. Like how dangerous this situation I’m in truly is.
“It’s been too long since we’ve hung out,” Piper says as our conversation winds down. “Maybe I can come to Cleveland soon. Just for the day or something.”
We say our goodbyes with promises to work something out. As soon as I end the call, I drop my phone onto the couch and press my palms against my eyes until I see stars.
“Well, that was useless,” I mutter to the empty room.
I learned nothing concrete about Matteo or what I’m walking into. Just that he’s intense, plays with fire literally and figuratively, and comes from a family that protects its own. Which sounds like a polite way of saying they make problems disappear.
Problems like women who steal precious lighters, perhaps.
My phone buzzes beside me, and I jump as if I’ve been shocked. The screen lights up with a text.
Psycho Bastard: I’ll see you at Holston’s in two days, Little Thief.
My fingers hover over the screen. Should I respond? Acknowledge the message? Ask for details?
