“God, Savy—Jesus, I was so freaking worried,” he muttered into my hair, voice rougher than I’d ever heard it. His grip lingered, tight, like he was scared I’d vanish if he let go.
I tried to soothe him, rubbing his back. “I’m okay, Oli. Really.”
He finally pulled away but caught my face in his hands, searching my eyes, brows drawn together in a knot of anxiety and frustration. “Seriously, what the hell’s going on?” His words tumbled out, barely contained. “I’ve been calling you nonstop, but your phone’s dead. I went by your apartment—the place was empty. Like, you’d vanished. Where the hell have you been? And why are you with that thug?”
Oliver hated Massimo, especially after what happened at the Children’s Ball. Since then, he’d been protective—too protective sometimes—but I could see the raw worry in his eyes now, mixed with a hint of accusation directed straight at Massimo.
Massimo’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. His eyes were cold, watchful. His nostrils flared as if holding back something sharper.
Trying to break the tension, I flashed a shaky smile. “Oli, breathe. I swear I can explain everything.”
He let out a low growl and dropped into his chair with a heavy sigh, scrubbing his hands over his face. “This better be good, Savy. I was freaking out—I almost called Jackson.” His lips pressed in a grim line, shooting Massimo another mistrustful glare as Massimo pulled out a chair for me.
I sat, my knees brushing his accidentally under the table.
“You didn’t, though, did you?” I asked, my voice dropping. “I haven’t even had a chance to call him yet and tell him the news.”
Oliver shook his head, but his relief was obvious in his slumped shoulders. “No, not yet. But I was close. Wait. What news?”
He wasn’t the only one holding his breath.
My heart pounded as I glanced at Massimo.
This was it—the moment everything would change. I forced a steadying breath and reached out, taking Massimo’s hand in mine. The gesture made his eyes widen a fraction.
“We’re married.”
Chapter Twenty
Massimo
“WHAT THE FUCK?!”
The buzz of conversation in the restaurant fizzled out in an instant, replaced by a thick, suffocating silence. Oliver Thorpe shot upright from his seat, the veins in his neck corded with outrage. His voice sliced through the quiet, rough and unmistakable, as he pointed a finger at me, the accusation burning in his eyes, his words tumbling out rapid-fire as if each sentence could unravel the room itself. “Have you lost your damn mind? You married Massimo Vitale!”
I didn’t flinch.
My grip on Miranda’s hand only hardened, grounding me as a cold wave of calculation washed over my features. Leviticus Barbari, ever the leech, watched from across the room, his lips curling around the rim of his wineglass. I’d spotted him the second we walked into the restaurant. He was basking in the chaos, savoring every second—silent, predatory, amused.
Oliver’s anger flared as he slammed a fist onto the table, rattling the silverware. “Savy, don’t think for a second I won’t call in your family. One word from me, and they will ride.”
Control was my armor. I leaned in, voice low and deliberate, slicing through Oliver’s bluster like a scalpel. “Lower your fucking voice or this dinner is over.”
My gaze flicked to Leviticus—his smug salute a reminder that every move here had consequences. If the underworld caught wind of this marriage, genuine or not, the fallout would becatastrophic. Trust was a currency, and tonight, every word was an investment or a debt.
With every beat, the threat to my family grew sharper, the line between truth and deception thinner.
The game had changed, and I knew it.
Now, it was just a question of who would draw first blood.
“Fuck you, Vitale. I’m here for answers, and I’m not leaving without them,” the annoying fucker snapped, taking his seat again, then asked, “Savy. Tell me the truth.”
“It’s true, Oliver. I am married to Massimo.” My wife’s voice was gentle and measured, her words carrying an unexpected sweetness that contrasted sharply with the tension in the room. As she leaned forward, she reached across the table, her fingers wrapping reassuringly around her friend’s hand in an earnest attempt to soothe his obvious distress.
She continued, her tone calm and deliberate. “After you left that night to handle Kendrick, Massimo and I shared a wonderful dinner together. Things progressed quickly between us from that moment.” There was no attempt to disguise the unconventional pace of our relationship; instead, she addressed it directly, her gaze steady. “I know this all seems fast, but you know me. I would never do anything I didn’t want to do.”
Her words hung in the air—firm, unapologetic—and the sincerity in her expression left little doubt. Her unwavering assurance tempered the shock of the revelation as she made it clear to Oliver, and everyone present, that her choices were entirely her own.
