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9. MATTEO
Last Updated:
2025-05-22 15:52:08
ArchnemesisTEASER: In Chapter 10, locked in a gilded cage, Giulianna refuses to surrender—to him, to the hunger burning between them, or to the twisted illusion Matteo keeps pushing as love. But with each passing hour, her resistance frays. The tension between them is electric, dangerous, and far from over. As Matteo grows bolder and the lines blur between manipulation and obsession, Giuli is forced to face the terrifying truth: wanting him might be her greatest downfall.
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His Baby My Burden: The Mafia Rider's Claim 153. GIULIANNA
The paper weighed nothing, yet it felt heavier than any weapon I’d ever held. That one line looped in my mind like a curse:Wolves don’t just circle outside. Some already sit at your table.By the time the council gathered again in the dining hall, I had memorized every glance, every hesitation, every twitch of the mouth. Each face that called itself family now looked like a mask.I sat at the head again, but this time I didn’t speak first. I watched.Romano drummed his fingers against the table as reports of last night’s strikes came in. Stella hid her disdain behind a pressed smile. The younger cousins whispered too much, shifting nervously whenever I looked their way.They didn’t know I had the note.Good.Matteo stayed at my back, silent, unreadable as stone. His eyes flicked to the same places mine did, tracking movement, weighing reactions.Finally, Romano broke the silence. “A bold beginning, Giulianna. The Vitales woke to fire and ruin. But boldness without caution is suicide.
His Baby My Burden: The Mafia Rider's Claim 152. GIULIANNA
By dawn, the villa’s halls reeked of smoke and tension. Word of the ambush had traveled faster than bullets, and the Bianchi council had already convened.I walked into the dining hall—not the warm place it was for family meals, but the cold chamber it became when turned into a boardroom. The long table was lined with uncles, cousins, and advisors, every pair of eyes sharp and waiting.They didn’t stand. They didn’t greet me. They watched like judges awaiting the condemned.Matteo shadowed me, a step behind, his presence a silent warning. He leaned against the wall near the doorway, arms crossed, gaze predatory. If anyone reached for me, he’d break them without hesitation.I took the head chair. My father’s chair. Leather creaked under me, the weight of legacy pressing down like a blade across my shoulders.Zio Romano cleared his throat first, his silver hair immaculate, his eyes cold. “So. The Vitales greet you with open arms, and in return, they receive bullets. Now the streets whis
His Baby My Burden: The Mafia Rider's Claim 151. GIULIANNA
By the time we returned to the villa, dawn was bleeding into the horizon. The marble halls were quiet, but not calm—more like the silence of a house waiting for judgment. Word of the ambush had spread before we even arrived. The family moved faster than rumor.I was still in last night’s clothes, blood streaked on my sleeves, grime staining my skin. Matteo walked at my side, his arm stiff from the graze, his presence radiating danger. Servants ducked out of our path, eyes wide.At the end of the corridor, the double doors of the council chamber loomed. I’d grown up watching my father stride through those doors, never hesitating. Now, they waited for me.Matteo touched my elbow. “Remember, Giuli—don’t defend yourself. Command.”I nodded once, though my heart hammered like a drum. Then I pushed the doors open.The room was full. Uncles, cousins, the matriarchs, Zio Romano seated at the head like a judge presiding over my trial. Their eyes turned to me in unison, sharp, expectant, condem
His Baby My Burden: The Mafia Rider's Claim 150. GIULIANNA
The night air outside the theater was heavy, pressing down with the weight of everything left unsaid inside. Matteo’s hand never left the small of my back as he guided me to the car. The driver stood ready, door open, eyes darting nervously toward the shadows.“Don’t look back,” Matteo muttered as he ushered me in. “They’ll take it as weakness.”I slid into the seat, keeping my spine straight even as my stomach twisted into knots. He followed, shutting the door with a snap that echoed like a gunshot.The car pulled away. City lights flickered past the window, but unease crawled along my skin. I could feel it—eyes on us, the silent promise of retribution.“They won’t wait long,” I whispered.Matteo’s hand found mine, his grip firm. “No. They’ll strike tonight. Count on it.”As if summoned by his words, headlights flared behind us. Too bright, too close. My pulse spiked. Matteo turned his head slightly, jaw hardening.“Driver,” he barked. “Lose them.”The car surged forward, tires squea
His Baby My Burden: The Mafia Rider's Claim 149. GIULIANNA
The air inside the Bianchi estate’s private office felt heavy, like the calm before a storm. Papers were scattered across the mahogany desk, maps of territories pinned to the board, and the black folder marked *Vitale Agreement* lay open in front of me.My fingers traced the embossed lettering as if it were a curse carved in stone. Every page inside was a reminder of a deal made under duress, a compromise that had kept the Bianchi name breathing but shackled us to men who only wanted us silent, obedient, and pliable.Enough.I shut the folder with a loud snap.Matteo was leaning against the window, sleeves rolled up, cigarette dangling between his fingers. His eyes had been on me the entire time I reviewed the agreement, waiting—watching—like he already knew where this was heading.“You’ve been pacing circles around this for weeks,” Matteo finally said, his voice low, casual, but edged with something sharper. “So tell me, Giuli. What’s your decision?”I lifted my chin. “We break it.”
His Baby My Burden: The Mafia Rider's Claim 148. GIULIANNA
The morning light creeps through the villa, gilding the marble floors, but it doesn’t soften the knot in my stomach. Sleep barely touched me. My body is sore, marked by Matteo’s fire, but my mind… my mind hasn’t stopped racing since the dock.The Adriatic shipment.The ambush was too precise. Too clean.I push away my untouched breakfast and slip into my father’s old study again. The desk smells of polish and dust, the faint ghost of tobacco clinging to the wood. Papers from last night still lie in a neat pile. I drag them toward me.Manifests. Guard rotations. Shipping schedules. On the surface, nothing screams betrayal. But the way the attackers moved—it wasn’t random. They knew where to strike, when to strike.Matteo appears in the doorway, silent. He watches me for a moment before stepping inside. “You’re digging.”“I can’t let it go,” I admit, flipping through the logs. “They weren’t amateurs. Someone gave them the map before we even left.”He leans against the desk, arms folded.
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