CHAPTER 13: Velvet Lies

ISABELLA

"You scared her, Isa."

The voice sliced through the kitchen like a blade against glass.

I froze.

No one else was supposed to be here.

I turned slowly, pulse pounding against my ribs like fists on a door.

And then I saw him.

Matteo.

Alive.

Standing there like some dark angel pulled from my past. A lazy smile curved his lips as he walked toward the kitchen island and poured himself a glass of wine, like he belonged here. Like he hadn’t faked his death. Like we hadn’t buried him.

I stared, throat dry, legs suddenly weak beneath me.

He took a sip and raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’re actually surprised to see me.”

The glass trembled in his hand, or maybe that was just me seeing things. My mind spun, desperately trying to catch up with my eyes. I glanced at the woman by the stove. She was still cooking, calmly, like this was all normal.

I stepped closer and lightly tapped her arm. “Is there someone else here with us… or am I… seeing things?”

She looked at me confused, almost amused.

Then both she and Matteo started laughing.

“Relax, Isa,” he said. “I’m alive. Very much alive.”

I swallowed hard. “But… how? We had your funeral, Matteo. I stood over your grave. I cried for you.”

He shrugged like we were talking about a canceled vacation. “A lot of things aren’t what they seem.”

His voice was deeper now richer, smoother, like aged whiskey sliding over ice. And the way it filled the space between us? Effortless. Like it belonged here.

He set the glass down on the counter with a quiet clink and turned fully toward me.

And there it was.

That face.

Those same storm-gray eyes as Damian’s, watching me too closely. But Matteo’s were missing the coldness. There was heat behind his stare dangerous, yes, but slow-burning. He looked like a man who didn’t need to raise his voice to be obeyed. Someone who whispered commands into your skin.

My mouth went dry.

God, he looked good.

Too good.

Snap out of it, Isa.

If Damian is a razor blade, Matteo is velvet hiding the edge.

“I just…” I tried to speak, but my thoughts tangled in my throat. “I don’t understand. Why fake your death?”

But Matteo didn’t answer.

Instead, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around me.

The contact shocked me. My body stiffened on instinct. I wasn’t used to this touch without pain. Hands without cruelty.

But his hold was steady. Gentle.

Warm.

And that warmth melted my resistance in seconds.

My hands lifted slowly, hesitantly, and then clung to him tightly. Desperately. Like he was the only thing tethering me to what was left of myself.

Tears burned hot as they slipped down my cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice low against my ear. “One of my men told me Damian brought you here. I didn’t know. I swear. But I’ll fix it. I’ll find a way to get you out.”

His words wrapped around me like a promise I wasn’t sure I could believe but I wanted to. I needed to.

When he pulled back, the loss of contact felt like being thrown back into cold water.

He guided me toward the table, where the cook had quietly laid out lunch. The food looked… vibrant. Real. Like it didn’t belong in this house full of rot and shadows.

I blinked down at the steaming plates. Chicken glazed with something sweet. Basmati rice. Warm rolls that made my stomach twitch with hunger I hadn’t felt in days.

“Where do I even start?” I murmured.

Matteo chuckled. The sound was light, easy like he didn’t belong to a family that left bruises on bodies and blood on floors.

“Anywhere,” he said, ruffling my hair like I was something precious. “It’s all yours. And if that’s not enough, you can have mine too.”

A laugh escaped me light and shaky. It felt… foreign.

“I’m not a foodie,” I said, the lie weak on my tongue.

He smirked. “Liar. Vercettis know everything about you, remember?”

I looked down, nudging my fork through the rice. The fake smile slipped from my face like a curtain falling. I needed to ask.

“Matteo…” My voice was barely a whisper. “Is it true? Did my brother… did he kill your father?”

The air in the kitchen changed. He froze, fork halfway to his mouth, before he placed it down with slow, deliberate care.

The soft clink echoed like a warning.

His jaw tightened as he looked at me.

“It’s true.”

My chest constricted. I could barely breathe.

“But,” he said after a long beat, his voice softening, “you didn’t ask for this war, Isa. You don’t deserve to be a prisoner in it.”

My gaze met his. And for once, I didn’t see a Vercetti. I saw a man who looked at me like I was human.

“If you ever need anything,” he added, standing, “my apartment’s just down the hallway. No guards. No questions. Just come to me.”

He held out a hand.

“Give me your phone.”

I stared at him for a second hesitating then passed it over.

He typed quickly, then handed it back. “Text me. If you’re bored. Or scared. Or just want to hear another voice that isn’t his.”

Then he leaned in, brushing a strand of hair off my cheek with fingers far too gentle for this house. “I have to handle some business. But I’m here now, Isa.”

And then he was gone.

Just like that.

The door clicked shut behind him, and the room suddenly felt too quiet, like the air had gone still in anticipation of something terrible.

Questions flooded me. Heavy and sharp.

Why fake his death? Why now? What game was this?

I stared at the spot where he’d stood, heart thudding.

Something’s wrong.

My brother would never kill their father. I didn’t know how I knew—but I did.

There’s more to this. And Matteo…

He’s hiding something.

I was still sinking into the weight of it all when my phone buzzed against the table.

I flinched.

Damian.

The name alone sent a cold shiver slicing down my spine.

My hand trembled as I picked it up. I stared at the screen for too long.

Then—I answered.

“I hope you enjoyed hugging my brother, Isa.”

His voice was silk over steel. Calm. Controlled. The kind of quiet you hear before a storm rips the sky apart.

I didn’t say a word.

I didn’t have to.

He already knew.

“You really thought I wouldn’t see you?” he continued, his tone deceptively soft. “That I wouldn’t know?”

The air felt thick. Poisoned.

“I changed my mind,” he said. “I’m coming home.”

My breath caught in my throat.

“It seems you’re still a bad girl,” he added, the cruelty creeping in like a slow leak. “And I won’t stop until you’re completely broken. Until every part of you belongs to me.”

He hung up.

Just like that.

No goodbyes. No warning.

The screen dimmed.

And I sat there frozen. Paralyzed. My heart slammed in my chest like it was trying to break free.

He saw us.

He heard us.

He’s coming back.

And I

I might’ve just signed my own death sentence.

************

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Thank you so much for reading this chapter! Your support means the world to me. If you enjoyed it, don’t forget to like, leave a comment, and subscribe so you never miss an update. I’d love to hear your thoughts what do you think about Matteo’s return? 👀💬

Stay with me things are just heating up. ❤️🔥