Chapter 35

Matteo’s POV

The moment her footsteps disappeared upstairs, I moved. I walked straight out of the dining room and down the corridor toward my study, jaw locked so tight it ached.

The door shut behind me with more force than necessary.

I mean my father’s presence in my house was already an irritation. Her sitting at that table tonight made it worse. Because he had seen it. The tension. The cracks between us.

And Theo Ferraro never missed weakness. The minute I walked in, I poured myself a drink I didn’t need. The glass trembled faintly against the crystal decanter. And then came a knock at the door

But I didn’t answer and it opened anyway. Of course it did.

“Still slamming doors like a child?” my father’s voice echoed calmly behind me, but I didn’t turn.

“You didn’t announce your arrival,” I finally said.

“I shouldn’t have to.”

I took a slow sip of whiskey before facing him. “You enjoy theatrics.”

“And you enjoy defiance.” He said and then stepped fully inside, closing the door behind him.

For a man past his fifties, my father still carried authority like a weapon. He walked toward the desk, running a finger across its polished surface.

“You lost the Angelos deal.”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t inform me quickly.”

“I was handling it.”

He laughed softly. “Handling? They signed with the Contis instead.”

My jaw tightened. “Temporarily.”

“Temporarily?” He turned sharply. “You think they will come back?”

“They will.”

“And how do you plan to ensure that?”

I met his gaze evenly. “Pressure.”

His eyes narrowed. “Careful Matteo.”

“I am.”

And then silence thickened between us.

“You embarrassed this family Son,” he continued calmly.

“I will fix it.”

“You said that last week.”

I stepped closer. “I am working on it.”

His brow lifted slightly. “Working?” he repeated.

“For the first time in years, yes,” I said, my voice rising despite myself, “I am asking you to trust that I am handling it.”

But then his expression changed. Cold and familiar from nights where he had punished me as a child.

“You raise your voice at me now?” he asked quietly.

“I’m not a child,” I said, holding his gaze. “I run this territory. I negotiate these deals. I clean up the messes.”

“And yet,” he replied softly, “the deal fell through.”

Heat flared in my chest at that statement of his.

“I said I’m working on it!”

The words echoed louder than I intended them to and for the first time in years, I had yelled at him.

“Good,” he said after a long pause.

“You have fire again,” he continued. “I was beginning to think comfort had softened you.”

“I am not soft.”

“No. You are distracted.”

The word landed precisely where he intended it to and my jaw tightened.

“I am not distracted.”

“Is that so?” he asked but I didn’t respond. His gaze drifted briefly toward the ceiling, over my shoulders to the books behind me.

“Thirty days,” he said.

“For what?”

“To restore the Angelos deal.”

My stomach tightened slightly.

“Thirty days,” he repeated calmly. “Or I step back in.”

My control nearly slipped.

“If you step back in, it sends a message.”

“Yes,” he said evenly. “That my son cannot maintain order.”

My hands curled into fists as I clenched my teeth staring back at him.

“I will fix it.”

“I hope so.”

He walked toward the door.

“One more thing.”

“The little hate between you two, you have to fix that as well. She's meant to be family Matteo!” he added as he stood by the doorway and I froze.

“That's not my problem!” I snapped taking a long sip of my drink as I looked away.

“Then you leave me with no choice but to step in fully, taking over everything and also playing your part as a stepbrother!” he added.

“Thirty days, Matteo,” he said without looking back. “Do not disappoint me again.”

The door closed behind him and I just stood there in silence. Thirty days. To reclaim control. To reestablish dominance. And somehow—

She was tangled in my mind while I calculated all of it. That irritated me more than my father’s ultimatum.

The next morning, I didn’t avoid her. I chose not to this time. There’s a difference.

If she thought she could ignore me after last night pretend indifference she would learn quickly that avoidance is not control. I had to come to that conclusion after my father's goddamn speech.

I entered the kitchen at precisely 7:15 a.m. She was already there. Pouring coffee.

Her hair was slightly messy, oversized sweater was hanging off one shoulder.

She froze the moment she sensed me but I walked past her without speaking. Close enough that my sleeve brushed hers.

Which wasn't accidental, had it done on purpose. And then she stiffened but she didn't look at me.

If I were going to have to fix my way back, annoyingly I was going to have to start with her.

I took a cup from the cabinet directly above her head, forcing her to shift slightly. Still, she gave no words and I let the silence stretch.

“Good morning,” I said, finally breaking the silence. Yet I sounded cold and completely neutral.

She didn’t turn. “Is it?”

I took a slow sip of coffee. “Depends.”

On what? She didn’t ask, she grabbed her bag from the counter ready to leave.

When she moved to leave, I stepped forward slightly, blocking the doorway just enough to stop her from leaving.

She looked up at me then with her Ice-blue eyes flashing.

“Move.”

“And if I don't?” I asked, staring straight into her eyes. And in that moment, silence lingered as we both stayed still staring into the eyes of the other.

“Don’t make me conclude that I'm about to have my day ruined and right now, you're doing so well in confirming that!” She yelled.

“Glad I could help, one way or another in giving you a thought for the day!” I said. Foolishly. And in seconds, she pushed past me, storming out of the kitchen, to the door, and out of the house.

I just stood there, feeling like a coward, who had overstepped.

“Fuck!”