My heart stutters.
I see it then—the flicker of something vulnerable in his eyes, gone as fast as it came. He shifts his weight, uncomfortable, like he’s said too much. But he doesn’t take it back.
And God, it does something to me.
My stomach tightens, warmth spreading through me that has nothing to do with the crowded bar or the heat of the overhead lights. This man, this gruff, dangerous, terrifying man, has a soft spot. And he just showed it to me.
“Okay,” I say quietly.
“Okay what?”
“I’ll do it.” I swallow, forcing the words out before I can second-guess myself. “I’ll marry you.”
His eyes narrow. “You’re agreeing to marry me?”
Marry him. A man I’ve known for three days.
This is insane. This is absolutely, certifiably insane.
“Yes.” I force my voice to stay steady. “I’ll do it.”
His shoulders drop, tension bleeding out of him so fast it’s almost startling. He was worried I’d say no.
I didn’t expect that.
“So how does this work?” I ask. “Do you have an actual plan, or are we just winging it?”
“Both.” The ghost of something like amusement crosses his face. “We announce the engagement soon. Spend time together in public. Make it look real.”
“And if that doesn’t draw him out?”
“Then we get married in three weeks.”
Holy shit.
The words hit me like a bucket of ice water to the face. “That’s... that’s really soon.”
“It’s not a real marriage.” His tone is matter-of-fact. Practical. Like we’re discussing dinner plans instead of legally binding ourselves together. “The wedding’s legal, but it doesn’t have to be anything big. Keep it simple.”
“Does it have to be real? Like, legally real?”
“Yeah.” His tone hardens. “Viktor’ll know if it’s fake. The Bratva’s got people everywhere, same as us. A real marriage license makes it real. That’s what’ll piss him off.”
Right. Of course. Because apparently, criminal organizations have access to government databases. Why wouldn’t they?
“And if you get your hands on Viktor before the wedding?” I look at him. “Do we call the whole thing off?”
“No.” His answer is firm.
“No?”
“You’ll have already been seen with me. The engagement will be public.” His eyes hold mine, steady and certain. “If something happens to Viktor, the Bratva will know I did it. And they’ll know you matter to me. That makes you a target.”
My stomach drops. I hadn’t thought that far ahead.
I must look as overwhelmed as I feel, because Matteo’s voice softens. Just a fraction.
“Focus on what matters. The marriage protects you. Not just because I’ll be there, but because you’ll be one of us. The Andrettis take care of their own.”
