And I still broke down and asked him to comfort me. I'm exactly as embarrassing as he said I was.
I take a sip of coffee. It's too sweet. I force myself to swallow it anyway.
"Thank you."
His voice comes out low and rough.
I don't turn around. "For what?"
"The coffee."
"It's just coffee."
"Still. Thank you."
I grip my mug tighter, staring at the dark liquid like it might have answers I don't.
This is worse than the hatred, worse than the cold dismissal. This weird politeness. This careful distance.
I think I preferred it when he just avoided me completely.
At least then I didn't have to stand in a kitchen pretending last night didn't happen, pretending I don't want to turn around and look at him, pretending I'm not painfully aware of every breath he takes.
I hate this.
I hate him.
I hate that I don't actually hate him at all.
My phone buzzes on the counter and I grab it, grateful for the distraction.
Matteo's name lights up the screen. Video call.
Perfect timing.
I answer and his face fills the screen. He looks tired, stressed, but alive.
"Princess."
"Matteo!" It takes seeing him to realize I’ve missed my brother and I’m happy to see that he’s fine.
I turn the phone so Enzo can see. He moves closer, not touching me but close enough that I can feel the heat coming off him.
"You're both safe?" Matteo's eyes move between us, assessing.
"We're fine." Enzo's voice is steady. "Cabin's secure. No sign of anyone."
"Good." Matteo runs a hand over his face. "The De Lucas are handling this better than expected."
"Better than expected?" I repeat. "I ran out on my own wedding. How are they handling it?”
"They know it wasn't your choice. Salvatore saw the O'Rourke's men, saw Enzo get you out. They're angry but not at you."
Not at me. Just at the Irish mafia family that's been trying to kill us for years.
Great. Much better.
"So, what happens now?" I ask.
