“AVici, in my fucking house.”
Dad’s voice echoes off the marble, sharp enough to shatter glass. I press myself against the wall, trying to disappear into the wallpaper, while he paces the length of the entrance like a caged animal.
In the center of the room, Matteo Vici stands perfectly still, dressed in a black suit with a narrow black tie. His hands are clasped in front of him, and his face is carved from stone. Vincenzo’s cousin, brother to Dante Vincenzo, who was murdered at my engagement party. My heart aches as I think of all the pain he’s been through because of the Montonis.
Now he’s forced to be my bodyguard.
He doesn’t flinch at my father’s tirade, doesn’t react to the creative insults being hurled at his family name. He just stares straight ahead with those cold eyes, so like Vincenzo’s.
Sharp. Dangerous. Implacable.
“This is an outrage,” Dad snarls, jabbing a finger at Matteo. “A deliberate fucking insult. One of his dogs in my house, under my roof.”
Matteo’s expression doesn’t flicker. If anything, the corner of his mouth twitches like he’s fighting a smile.
That only makes Dad angrier. He stands rooted to the spot, a war going on behind his eyes. I can guess what he’s thinking. If he throws Matteo out, he’ll anger Vincenzo and put him on his guard. If he allows this, Vincenzo may start letting his guard down around me and I’ll have more opportunities to poison him.
My stomach clenches in knots whenever I think about the poison. The vial is still in my nightstand drawer where I left it after the restaurant. Dad made it abundantly clear during our argument that he expects me to go through with killing my fiancé, but how can I poison a man who apologized for hurting me, one who stepped between me and Dad’s fists without hesitation?
Dad keeps asking when I’ll do it. Each time I lie, tell him I’m waiting for the right moment, building Vincenzo’s trust. The excuses are getting thinner. Soon Dad won’t accept them anymore.
And then what?
Death is circling ever closer, and I feel completely trapped.
“From this day forth, the Vicis had better be grateful for my tolerance,” Dad finally snarls, then storms past me without a glance, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the chandelier.
The silence that follows is deafening.
Matteo turns to me, and his transformation is so sudden I almost gasp. The ice melts from his features. His shoulders relax. And when he smiles, it’s warm and genuine and nothing like the stone-faced soldier who just weathered my father’s storm.
“Man’s a peach. No wonder you ran away.” He catches my eye and winks.
I’m so shocked that I can only stare at him, lost for words.
“Miss Montoni.” He inclines his head, almost a bow. “Don Vincenzo told me a lot about you.”
A Vici being kind to me, after everything we did to his family. I don’t deserve his warmth and courtesy.
“Don?” I repeat, and then feel a stab of guilt. My face flames red as I hastily say, “Oh, yes. Of course he’s don.”
Matteo’s smile turns wry. “Don’t tell him I said that. I can call him Don Vincenzo behind his back, even if I can’t say it to his face.”
“Oh? Why is that?” I draw closer to Vincenzo’s cousin without meaning to, hungry for any scraps about Vincenzo.
Matteo talks eagerly, as though he’s been dying to confide in someone. “He hates the title. Refuses to wear the ring, and won’t sit in his father’s chair and give his capos orders. Can you believe it? But he’s our don whether he likes it or not. Someone has to lead what’s left of us.”
What’s left of us. Such sad words about a once formidable family.
“I’m so sorry about your brother, Dante,” I whisper. “About all your family.”
Grief flickers in his eyes, but it’s quickly buried. “Don’t you be sorry, Miss Montoni. Vincenzo’s explained everything to me. It was your father who—” He stops himself, jaw tightening. Then he exhales, and the warmth returns, deliberate and professional. “But that’s not why I’m here. I’m here to keep you safe. Don Vincenzo’s orders.”
The way he saysDon Vincenzo’s orderscarries weight and reverence. Even pride. Like protecting me is an honor, not a chore.
“I have class this morning,” I say awkwardly. “At the university. You’re probably busy. You don’t have to come if you…”
But Matteo is already smiling and gesturing toward the door. “I’ll drive and escort you to class. After you, Miss Montoni.”
