Semua Bab The Don's Ruthless Empire: Bab 551 - Bab 560

POV: Matteo"Matteo, you look terrible. Is that blanket for the cold, or has the great Don finally learned what it feels like to be small? Tell me, did your heart ask permission before it came here?"I am Matteo, and I will admit that for one sharp second I wanted to throw something at that woman. She stood at the brig's rail in a long gray coat, her hair pinned like a schoolteacher's, her gloved hand resting on the wood as casually as if she owned the sea. Our cutters floated a stone's throw away, rocking in the black water. The afternoon was fading. Below the cliffs, shadows pooled like spilled ink."Odile," I called. My voice came out thinner than I wanted, so I made it steady instead of loud. "You were always fond of speeches. I came for the girl and the old man. Nothing else.""Of course you did. Nothing else is ever what men like you want." She tilted her head. "Do not climb down into a launch, Don Matteo. I can see your knees shaking from here. Send Isabella. She was always the

POV: Matteo"Don Matteo, I have never signed that paper. I swear it on my husband's grave and my son's life. Please do not look at me the way the others are looking, because I could not bear it from you."I am Matteo, and I had not looked at Adriana Valdez in any particular way at all. I had only been holding a waxed packet in my hands, and my face, I suppose, had done what faces do. Dawn was breaking over the cove, thin and gray. The cutter smelled of wet rope and boiled coffee. Tobias had fished the packet out of the water himself an hour ago, from a small cask Odile's launch had left bobbing near the rocks, with a flag tied to it so we could not miss it."I am not looking at you in any way," I said gently. "Sit down, Adriana.""I would rather stand.""Then stand, and be stubborn. You always were." I tilted the packet toward the light. "Do you remember the first time we met?"She blinked. "You were reading the harbor chart upside down.""And you, a girl with ink on your fingers, tol

POV: Matteo"Do not argue with me, Matteo. Your heart skipped eleven beats on that boat, and I counted every one. If you stand up again before tomorrow, I will tie you to this bed with your own sword belt."I am Matteo, and Dr. Fenn said it with her arms crossed and her gray braid coming loose, standing at the foot of our bed like a small, furious storm. The afternoon sun poured through the windows, warm on the quilt. My whole body felt like wet sand. We had come home at noon, and I remember Tobias carrying me up the stairs, and I remember being too tired to be angry about it."You are a hard woman, Doctor," I said."I am a fair one. Rest, drink, and do not lie to your wife." She glanced at Isabella, who sat in the chair by the window, very still. "I will be downstairs. Shout if he turns blue."The door closed. For a while neither of us spoke. Dust floated in the light. A cart rattled past in the street below, and a child laughed somewhere, a bright thin sound that made my throat ache

POV: Matteo"Don Matteo, I brought him here instead of the council hall. You may call it disobedience. I call it the only room in this city where nobody can slip a note under the door."I am Matteo, and Tomas stood in the doorway of my study with dust on his boots and a thin, trembling man at his side. It was dusk. The lamps were lit, and the smell of beeswax and old books hung in the air, as it had for thirty years. I sat in my armchair with a blanket over my knees and Dr. Fenn glaring at me from a stool in the corner. I had promised her I would not stand. I had promised Isabella I would stay out of council matters. I had not promised anyone I would not listen."Bring him in," I said.The man shuffled forward. I knew him, of course, as one knows the furniture of a city. Ottavio Brandt, the council recorder, gray hair, ink stained cuffs, a face that always seemed to be apologizing for something. Behind him, leaning on a short cane, came an old man humming softly under his breath. Teod

POV: Matteo"I am retired, Matteo. I am old, deaf in one ear, and I told the harbor I was finished. So explain why you have dragged two children and a cough all the way up my hill on the morning of my tomatoes."I am Matteo, and Salvatore stood among his rows of staked tomato vines, a battered straw hat on his head, a pair of garden shears in his gnarled hand. His villa clung to the cliffs above the sea, white walls and green shutters, and far below us the whole harbor sparkled like spilled coins. The wind smelled of salt, basil, and warm earth. He looked smaller than I remembered. His eyes had not changed at all."You said you would never leave your garden," I told him."And you said you would never retire. Look at us." He snipped a ripe tomato and tossed it to Renzo, who caught it clumsily. "Eat. It will calm your nerves. I have seen better nerves on a frightened goat."Sofia suppressed a laugh. Isabella took Salvatore's hands and kissed both his cheeks, and I saw him blink hard and