My grip tightens on the weight. “My flat? Jesus. He couldn’t even wait a day?”
“Apparently not. Anything we need to worry about him finding?”
“Do you think I’m that fucking stupid?” I scoff, racking the weight hard enough to echo through the gym.
“Well, I mean, you did fall for your stepsister despite all my sage advice, sooo…”
He’s not wrong, and I hate that he knows it. I was a fool to think I could ever keep my distance. The second Lily decided I was hers, it was game over. Even with the weight of this marriage contract looming over me—over us—she wouldn't be deterred.
No one’s ever wanted or fought for me the way she did.
“Fuck off,” I mutter, rolling my eyes. “Anyway, how’s my favourite niece?”
The deflection works like a charm. Owen starts rambling about April’s newfound obsession with adding glitter to his tattoos and her refusal to eat anything that isn’t pink.
I half-listen as I finish my workout, sweat pouring off me, muscles trembling with the strain, and the pent-up need I can’t seem to outrun.
Freshly showered, monkey suit in place, second black coffee in hand, I leave the relative safety of the guest suite Salvatore assigned me and cross the courtyard toward the main villa. Every step tightens the chain binding me to this family, to this farce of a future.
The grounds are breathtaking even if they’re sprawling and suffocating. But beauty in this world is camouflage. I know that better than anyone.
Everything here is designed to be seen and not to be touched, a masterpiece that allows no mistakes. Gravel crunches beneath my shoes, loud in the open space. There’s no such thing as arriving unnoticed as I climb the front steps, nodding at the guards as I pass. They don’t so much as glance at me.
Inside, the air is thick with garlic, strong coffee, and barely suppressed tension. Voices bounce off stone walls—sharp, and hushed, like knives in the dark.
I trail the sounds to the dining room and melt into the shadows, watching.
Antonio sits at the head of the long table, brow furrowed, eyes sharp as Nico leans in, whispering like a venomous snake. Nico, with his tailored suit, sharp jawline, and slicked-back hair, looks ready to slit throats for sport despite the early hour.
Opposite Nico sits Vera, the too-young wife Antonio introduced to me last night like a trophy. She pokes at her food with a trembling fork, hollow-eyed, the diamond on her finger flashing a cold, silent warning.
But all my attention is on Gianna.
She's seated beside her father, mirroring Vera’s listlessness. Her face is painted with makeup that tries to age her up, but only makes her look more like a child playing dress-up. The neckline of her dress is obscene for this hour or for any hour, really.
She flinches under Nico’s possessive arm looped around her shoulders, and my stomach turns.
“Matthew,” Antonio calls smoothly. “Come, join us. I’m sure your hours in the gym have worked up an appetite.”
The less-than-subtle reminder that nothing here happens without his knowledge prickles the hairs on the back of my neck. Unease claws at me, but I shake it off, planting a smirk on my face as I stride forward like I own the place.
I pull out the empty chair at the opposite end of the table, catching the twitch of Nico’s jaw. Before anyone speaks, a plate slides in front of me and a glass of vodka follows, edging into my peripheral vision.
“It’s a bit early, isn’t it?” I say, pushing it aside.
No one laughs. No one looks my way.
In the Points, silence like this is unheard of.
Donna wouldn’t stand for it—she’d have already hurled the crystal glass of vodka across the table, shattering it against the wall just to break the tension. Liam would be smirking over his water, letting someone else take the bait, enjoying the slow unravelling. Abigail? She’d be twirling her fork like a blade between her fingers, smiling faintly while she worked out whether she could get away with murder before dessert was served.
But here, with the Salvatores, everything is muted. Neutered. Polished until it gleams. Drinks are poured with quiet ceremony, courses arrive on silver trays, and every expression is as carefully arranged as the flowers in the centrepiece. I always knew the way we ran things in the Points wasn’t the norm, but I wasn’t prepared for how cold, how sterile this world would feel in comparison.
“Jonathan mentioned you wanted me here for introduction purposes?” I ask flatly.
Salvatore’s smile is all teeth. “The big day is only months away, it’s about time you got familiar with your new home. And dear Gianna has been so looking forward to meeting you.”
Gianna winces, the colour draining from her face telling a story she’s desperate to hide. I make a mental note to get her alone as soon as I can.
