Chapter 21

Unspoken Desires - Chapter 21

Matteo

Gabriella hasn’t said a word since we left the safe house. She’s been sitting stiff beside me, hands clenched in her lap, chewing the inside of her cheek like it’s the only thing keeping her from detonating.

And yeah, I get it. She doesn’t trust me. Doesn’t like me. Thinks I’m a monster. Fair. I haven’t given her reasons to think otherwise.

But if she doesn’t snap out of it soon, this mission is going to blow up in our faces. I don’t give a rats ass about any of them; or her guilt, or her unresolved romance drama with Maximus, or even whatever twisted loyalty she has to Sophia. I only care about one thing. Getting my mother and Sophia back, safe and unharmed.

So I say it. Flat and sharp. “Look, Gabriella. I don’t give a fuck if you like me or not. But if you ruin this, if my mom or Sophia get hurt or killed because you can’t keep it together, I’ll take you all down. So stop glaring at me like a spoiled little princess and ask what you want to ask.”

Her head snaps toward me. “Fine,” she says, her voice low, vibrating with rage. “Let’s start with the obvious.”

But before she could start, I yanked the wire from her comms and flick mine off too.

The last thing I needed was the others listening in, that would light this whole car up with chatter. The only reason I am answering anything for her is because I need her focused.

Now it’s just me and her. She doesn’t hesitate. “Why did you have Sophia and Sareena followed for 3 years? They were little girls when your obsession started.”

I don’t answer. Not yet.

“Why did you kidnap Sareena? Assault her, both physically and sexually? You almost broke her?”

I don’t flinch.

“Why didn’t you just rape her?” she spits. “Was that supposed to be your version of mercy?”

Her words come like bullets. Sharp. Cold. Meant to cut deep. “Do you have a conscience? Do you feel anything? Remorse? Shame?”

My turn, and I don’t sugarcoat it. “I did all those things,” I say, calm and even. “Not gonna sit here and pretend I didn’t. But I wasn’t raised like you or your perfect Familia.”

Her jaw tightens, but I continue.

“Since I was three, I was told I’d marry Marcella and rule the Camorra. No choices. No excuses. It was beat into me. Every girlfriend I ever had? Ended up dead. Brutally and publicly. That was the warning. The only girl I was allowed was Marcella.”

I grip the steering wheel tighter. Force myself to keep going.

“Her dad made some dirty deals. She got taken. Kidnapped. Tortured for weeks. What happened to her…” I shake my head. “Nothing I did to Sareena even comes close.”

Gabriella’s eyes narrow, but she doesn’t interrupt. Not yet.

“When we got her back, she wasn’t the same. Pregnant. Broken. I tried to be there. Offered to marry her. Not because I loved her, but because she was my mom’s best friend’s daughter. And it was the right thing to do.”

I glance at Gabriella briefly.

“She said no. Then she killed herself. In front of me.”

Her lips part, a breath catching in her throat. The horror in her eyes is real. She wasn’t ready for that.

Good. She needs to understand, this shit didn’t start with me.

“I tried to move on. But every girl I talked to, every single one ended up dead. Underbosses, captains, even my own guys paraded their daughters and family members in front of me, hoping one would stick. Hoping they could bind me in marriage.”

“And if one got too close?” I tilt my head. “They were taken out. Violently. Someone was killing any girl who got close.”

Her lips are trembling now, but she’s still listening.

“Then Alessandro stepped in,” I say. “Reminded me he had two daughters. Twins. My dad said no. Said the girls weren’t stable. But I was already too far gone.”

I exhale slowly. “So I found them both. Studied them. Their history, and their trauma. Every detail. I needed my pain to stop. Thinking that someone who looked like Marcella would help ease it.”

“I needed to feel in control, again. I also had to consider our bloody sheets tradition. So yeah, I fucked up. A lot.”

She’s just staring now. Frozen.

“But it brought Sophia into my life. And I won’t apologize for that.”

We ride in silence for a few seconds, the only sound the hum of tires over pavement. Then, finally, Gabriella lets out a breath she’s been holding.

Her voice is quiet. “I still don’t like you,” she says. “But now I understand why you’re broken.”

I glance at her. “Don’t need you to like me, sweetheart. Just need you not to fuck this up.”

She nods once, then slips her comms back into place. Doesn’t say another word. And for the first time since we got in the car, I know she won’t ruin this.

She doesn’t forgive me. Doesn’t trust me. But she knows what’s at stake. And that’s all I ever needed.

A few minutes later, we pulled up to the DeLuca house. It was just before 10am. The massive wrought-iron gates swing open immediately as we pull up. They must have seen my car in the security room.

Gabby notices the cameras mounted on every corner, glass so dark you can’t see in, but she knows they can see us.

I shift the car into park and glance over at Gabriella. Her hands are clenched tight in her lap again, shoulders stiff, jaw locked.

“Stay put,” I say, voice low but firm. “I’ll come around.”

She doesn’t argue. Just nods once, her eyes still fixed ahead.

I step out, let the sun hit me for a second, then straighten my cuffs and walk around the front of the car. I slow my pace deliberately. This house is a stage, and we’re already being filmed.

I reach her door and open it. She doesn’t move at first, so I offer her my hand.

She takes it, cool fingers slipping into mine, and I help her out. The cameras catch it, exactly what they’re supposed to. A man helping a beautiful woman out of his car. He’s clearly interested in. That’s the narrative we’re selling.

As she straightens up beside me, I lean in slightly and murmur, just loud enough for her to hear, “Okay, Arya, let’s go. The wicked witch is watching.”

Her lips twitch, but she says nothing. Good girl.

We walk forward together, the façade in place. Whatever happens inside, we’ll deal with it, but out here, we play the game.

—————

Gabriella

Matteo and I walk up the stone path toward the front door, his arm draped lightly over my shoulder like we’ve done this a thousand times.

The pressure of his touch is featherlight, barely there, but it still makes my skin crawl. I hate it. I hate him. But I don’t pull away. I won’t ruin this. Not for Sophia. Not for Gino. Not for Alexandra.

The door opens before we even reach the top step. Maria DeLuca.

She’s dressed in a silky black robe, pearls around her neck, her brown waves pinned neatly behind one ear.

Her eyes go straight to Matteo, lighting up with that fake warmth that people use when they really don’t want to see you.

“Matteo,” she purrs. “What a surprise. You never just pop over like this… is everything okay?”

Then her gaze shifts to me, and I can feel her sizing me up in a single sweep of her eyes. “And who is this?”

Matteo slips into character without missing a beat.

“Hi, Aunty Maria. This is Arya,” he says, letting his arm slip lower around my waist. “I have hired her to be my mom’s new assistant. Once she’s back, she’s going to need the help. I picked her out myself.”

He makes it sound like I’m something special. Like I matter. Like he’s invested.

Maria’s smile widens, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Not even close.

“Oh, Matteo,” she croons, clasping her hands together. “You must be devastated. Both your mother and Sophia… gone like that.” She tilts her head, voice dripping with feigned concern. “Are you sure it was a kidnapping? I was your mother’s best friend for years. I know how unhappy she was… especially after Marcella died. Maybe she just ran off. Probably with another man.”

She says it like it’s a comfort. Like slandering Matteo’s mother will somehow soothe his grief.

Matteo stiffens beside me. “Aunty Maria,” he says, carefully measured, “watch yourself. My mom is loyal. My parents both love each other. Please, just let Uncle Alessandro know I’m here. I’d like to speak with him.”

He starts to move past her, but she shifts subtly in front of the doorway, blocking us with a smile that’s all teeth.

“Matteo, my sweet boy,” she says with a soft laugh, “today isn’t a good time. The house is being renovated and Alessandro is out of town. He left… oh, a week ago, I believe.”

Liar.

“Okay,” Matteo says coolly. “I’ll come back when Uncle’s home.”

Then, right in front of her, he pulls me close. His hand settles on my waist, and he leans in like he’s about to kiss me, like I’m the only thing grounding him right now. I let him. I even give him a soft smile, like I’m flattered. Because this is the part she needs to see: the passion. The interest. The lie.

Maria watches us, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. She’s believing it. Success.

As we pull out of the driveway, I catch a flicker of movement; someone hiding behind a curtain on the second floor. A young man. He looks scared. That has to be Santino.