The room goes very still.
Dario stares at him for a long moment.“No fucking way.”Then he laughs once under his breath.“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Nico shoves aside his tablet.
“You will marry Seraphina Bertoni.”
Giuseppe’s daughter.
Though I hate the idea of my footloose and single brother being forced into marriage, Matteo’s decision is not only logical, it’s damn smart.
Dario runs a hand through his hair.“So that’s the plan?”he mutters.“You want me to take on the border queen to lock down the south?”
Matteo’s voice is calm.“All’s fair in love and war.”
That’s the entire answer.
Dario stares at the ceiling for a moment before looking back at our oldest brother.“Christ.”
Nico stands.“I’ll speak with the consigliere,” he says.“Arrange a time for you to call Giuseppe personally.”
Matteo nods.“Make it happen.”
The door opens and my bride walks in.
The conversation that filled the room seconds ago dissolves instantly, as if someone cut the wire feeding it.
She pauses just inside the doorway, one hand resting lightly against the frame as she studies the four of us.The bruising along her arm has faded to a pale shadow now, though I still see it.
Matteo’s gaze shifts to her.“Valentina.”
She inclines her head slightly.“Matteo.”Then she glances at all of us.“Should I come back later?”
“Hell no.”
She grins.
“The rest of them were just leaving.Weren’t you, gentlemen?”
Matteo steps away from the window.“I’m heading back to Houston tonight.”His tone is practical.“There are things that need my attention.”
Grabbing his tablet, Nico stands.“We’ll coordinate with the Bertonis once Emilio returns my call.”
Matteo gives a short nod.Then he looks back at Valentina.“Take care of my brother.”
Her answer comes without hesitation.“I will.”
Something in his expression shifts—approval, maybe.Then he turns toward the door, and Nico follows him out into the hallway.
Dario lingers a second longer, glancing between the two of us.
“Hell of a honeymoon.”After hugging Valentina, he also leaves.
Finally we’re alone, and Valentina walks toward the bed, slowly, cautiously.
Her eyes move over the monitors, and she takes in the bandage across my shoulder and the IV line.“Better than yesterday,” she says quietly.
“Low bar.”
