The drive is a revelation.
For weeks, I’ve been ferried around by my father’s silent, watchful, and oppressive men. They never speak to me except when politely but firmly giving me orders. Never look at me except to make sure I don’t bolt for freedom.
Matteo is different. He asks about my classes and laughs when I describe my business professor’s monotone lectures. Tells me about his own “education” with dark humor that makes me smile despite myself. He was taught to fieldstrip a Glock and put it back together at record speed, how to throw a punch, and how to lose a tail in traffic. How to make a man talk. How to know when someone’s reaching for their weapon. The Vici curriculum.
It should shock me, but I grew up in a house with armed guards and violence hovering in the wings. Violence is our families’ business. His family just teaches it more explicitly than mine.
Sunshine pours through the windshield, warming my face. The city slides past in a blur of color and light. For the first time in longer than I can remember, I feel almost normal.
Almost free.
My phone buzzes in my purse.
I pull it out, still smiling, expecting maybe a text from Lucy.
It’s from Dad.
Be careful around Vincenzo’s guard dog. If he catches on to what you’re up to, he’ll wring your neck. The engagement means nothing. You’re not safe. It’s them or us.
Matteo couldn’t possibly see my screen from where he’s sitting, but I hastily lock the screen and put my phone face down in my lap.
The sunshine suddenly feels cold.
I stare out the window, my good mood crumbling to ash.
“Everything okay?” Matteo glances at me in the rearview mirror.
I smooth my features over with a smile. “Of course. Everything’s fine.”
Class passes in a haze. I take notes without absorbing a single word, my professor’s voice washing over me like distant static. When it’s finally over, I find Matteo waiting outside the lecture hall, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, looking supremely unbothered by the curious stares from passing students.
“Good class?” he asks. “Shall I take you home?”
I nod wordlessly, wishing I had an excuse to go anywhere else. The bottle of poison is in my nightstand, and I’ll feel its deadly presence silently demanding me to use it on the man who promised to keep me safe.
Matteo gazes at me, his lips pressed together in concern. “You know what? I’ve got a better idea.”
I look up in surprise. “Oh?”
A smile spreads over his face. “You hungry? I know a place. The best Italian food in the city.”
“Yes, please,” I say quickly.
He escorts me back to his car and opens the back door for me. I slide inside, relief lightening my heart at the thought that I’m going anywhere but home.
As we drive, I feel my phone vibrate in my bag. Wincing, I glance inside, praying that it’s not Dad. I breathe a sigh of relief when I see that it’s Lucy.
Damiano just told me he saw you at dinner with Vincenzo Vici last night.
Does this mean that Vici–Montoni relations have been mended? Perhaps with a kiss? More kisses??
I stare at Lucy’s messages as I wonder how to reply. A minute later, she texts me again.
Was Damiano with a woman? Was it that politician’s daughter? Ugh. I can’t stand her.
I smile and roll my eyes. Lucy has hated every woman her brother has ever dated. She’s as possessive of his affections as he is protective of her.
I’ll call you soon and tell you everything. Promise.
