Chapter 2

I didn't expect to see Matteo again the very next day.

The battered door flew open again. Matteo stepped inside. Camila followed on his arm, flanked by two armed guards.

He had shed his coat. His charcoal shirt was rolled up to his forearms, stretching tight over his broad shoulders. He towered over the small room like a storm.

I sat huddled on my thin mattress, crushing a bloody tissue in my fist. My chest burned from swallowing every cough.

"Our princess is getting lazier. Still in bed in the middle of the day?" Matteo stopped a few feet away, his tone lazy and teasing.

For a split second, my mind slipped. I thought I was back in the days when he was still our underboss. I always stayed up late and refused to get up, and he would wake me up with endless patience. But a second later, his tone stayed smooth as he dragged me straight back to reality.

"Five years ago, you slapped the ring box out of my hand in front of a hundred made men. You called me a gutter rat. You had a lot more spine back then."

His voice didn't even waver. Five years ago, he knelt before me like his soul had been ripped out. Now, that humiliation didn't even make him blink. It was just a memory. He really didn't care anymore.

Beside him, Camila smirked. A massive pear-cut diamond flashed on her finger as she rested her hand over her baby bump.

"Let it go, babe," Camila purred. "If Miss Vane hadn't been stupid enough to run off with the rival heir, I wouldn't have you all to myself today."

She stepped closer, glancing over my hollow cheeks with open mockery. "I should thank her for having zero taste. But Matteo, we didn't come here to talk about the past. We have business."

She looked up at him, tugging his arm. "Your private armory in Long Island is huge. I don't know the first thing about handguns. Miss Vane used to run all the smuggling lines, so she knows weapons best. Let her pick out the ivory-grip Browning for me. She can help select the wedding whiskey for the bosses, too. What do you think?"

I gripped the sheet. The IV bruise on my hand stung. We grew up together. The day he said he loved me, he swore every gun in his arsenal belonged to me. For years, I was his spoiled little princess. When my feet got cold in winter, he held them in his warm hands until they thawed. He never let anyone speak a single harsh word to me.

Then five years ago, I ripped his heart out with the cruelest lies. Now, he stood there and watched another woman spit on my memories. This was my punishment.

A dull ache slammed into my chest. The metallic taste rushed up my throat.

"Stop humiliating her!" Elena snapped. She jumped up from the corner, shaking with rage. "We owe you money, not our dignity!"

A guard drew his piece in a flash. The cold metal barrel pressed hard against her temple. A sharp click echoed in the room.

"Move again, and we won't be gentle," the guard said, his voice completely flat.

"Mom, don't!" I threw myself off the bed. I wrapped my frail arms around her waist. The sudden jolt tore through my insides. I couldn't stop it. Dark blood burst from my mouth, splattering the filthy carpet.

The guards didn't flinch. Until Matteo raised his hand, they lowered their weapons and stepped back.

Matteo's brow furrowed. He glanced at the pool of blood on the floor. "Coughing up blood? Are you sick?" He waved at his guard. "Call the family doctor. I'm not having my debtor drop dead before the bills are paid."

I forced a chuckle. "No need. It's just stage blood. A friend brought it back from a movie set. Looks real, doesn't it?"

His tension eased. He looked down at me. "If you're fine, let's move. Pick the gun. Taste the wine. That's how you start paying interest on your debt."

"Fine." I bit down on my lip. The pain kept me from passing out. I wiped the blood from my mouth and hauled myself to my feet.

I locked eyes with him. Those gray eyes that once looked at me with tenderness.

"I'll go," I rasped. "As long as the Boss isn't worried my gun might go off at the altar."