Aoife
Ileave the family room with my pulse still hammering in my throat. The room’s heat clings to my skin like the ghosts of every glare, every question thrown at Matteo.
People always whispered about Matteo’s father. After less than an hour with him, I believe every story.
Rosa waits by the door, arms crossed, unreadable. “You okay?” Not gentle, not unkind.
I nod. Lie. “I’ll go upstairs. Wait for Matteo.”
She steps into my path. “Walk with me.”
“I’m fine?—”
“You’re not.” Her stance doesn’t shift. “I promised him no one would hurt you, that includes yourself and you being in the bedroom you’re going to think about everything and anything to blame yourself.”
I don’t argue. She’d drag me anyway. She’s loyal to the brothers, and they guard her like blood.
We slip into the cool dusk. Messina Manor sprawls behind us marble bones, haunted corridors. Lavender, salt, old stone in the air.
“They’re going to your house,” Rosa says at last. I stop. She keeps walking. “You knew this.”
I swallow. “Yeah.” I knew it would happen, just didn’t think it would be now.
“Messinas don’t make idle threats. This isn’t Romeo and Juliet. It’s war prep and you’re the first domino.”
My throat goes dry. “What happens when they get there?”
“That’s up to your family. You think they’ll let this go? You’re not just in Matteo’s bed; you’re in the middle of hatred which has been around for years. Someone’s going to bleed. I wouldn’t bet on them holding back.” She pauses, turns. “You’re not like them. That’s why he sees you.”
I say nothing. Shoes crunch, the conversation pulled taut between us.
“So…” Rosa’s voice comes again, quiet but curious. “You want to know about them, don’t you?”
“The brothers?” I ask, a little surprised, she might tell me something, she smirks.
“You're with Matteo, but at the same time you’re with them too, just not in the same way.”
“I don’t even know what I am anymore.”
“Marco’s the mouth speaks what he wants,” Rosa says. “But he’s not stupid. He watches everything. You might think he’s just the charming one, but trust me, he’s sharp as razors. The Predator of the computer world. Milo, he’s chaos with a heart. He jokes because if he doesn’t, he’ll drown. The Reaper with a knife, you will never see him coming.”
“And Matteo?” Rosa stops, looking out to the horizon. “He’s rage. Rage with chains. He was born with fire in his blood and blood in his teeth. But with you…” she trails off.
“With me what?”
She sighs, deep and tired. “You made him soft. Not weak, don’t mistake me. But quieter. Focused. He hasn’t looked likethat since…” She stops talking, and I stand there waiting for her to say something, but nothing.
“Since?”
“Since forever. You… centered him. That’s not nothing in this family.”
I feel something crack in my chest. “I don’t know if I can be enough for him.”
Rosa glances over. Her eyes, for once, are gentle. “Just don’t break him. He’ll already burn the world for you. You better be worth the ashes.”
We sit on a bench; I ask what’s been chewing at me. “How are you so close to them?”
“Uncle Massimo and my dad go back forever. My dad is Uncle Massimo right hand.” She glances at the house.
