Mattheo Riddle Novels & Stories

Her heart beat faster not from fear, but because she could feel the storm brewing. “Raffaele Romano,” Matteo said, his voice a calm executioner’s blade. “Stand.” Raffaele, ever the snake, rose slowly, his smile thin, mocking. “What is this, Matteo? A trial? Or just another one of your little displays of power?” Matteo didn’t smile. He tossed a folder onto the table. Photos spilled across the polished wood bank transactions, coded messages, intercepted calls. Each piece of paper was a nail in Raffaele’s coffin.

"But the rest was a transaction. Matthew owed me a debt he couldn't pay with cash. So, he offered me information. And then, he offered me you." Emmanuella felt a wave of nausea so strong she had to lean on the table. "Why? I'm a teacher! I don't know anything about your world!" "You’re the only person Matthew ever let in," Romeo said, standing up and walking toward her. He moved with a terrifying grace, stopping just inches away. "He thinks you know where he hid the drive he stole from me. He thinks if I keep you here, I’ll find it and let you both go."

"My mentor treats me exceptionally well, even like a brother, and I chose to follow him." Matteo had nothing to say. Adrian's imposing presence was palpable, his strength emanating even while seated. He asked, "Are you an impostor? Are you truly the great Matteo?" Matteo exploded in anger. Medicis Manor had undergone a significant change in personnel, and no one here recognized him. Sweating anxiously and clutching the Sol Pills tightly, he insisted, "I am Dr. Matteo." "Then why couldn’t you detect Rozi's illness?" Adrian asked bluntly.

Gia teased. Matteo shrugged. “Maybe,” he said nonchalantly. "What kind of answer is that?” Gia protested. “It’s the best one I can give. Trust me, you don’t want the details.” Gia scowled, feeling like Matteo’s answer explained nothing. She wondered if he was a heartbreaker like Caius or if women flocked to him as they did to Raven. Matteo’s calm demeanor made it hard for her to guess his relationship approach.

His best friend was prone to dramatics, but he guessed he deserved that, after what Ronan had to see. "Ronan, if I was possessed, your necklace is hardly going to exorcize me," Matteo said tiredly. He raised his sleeve and wiped his lips. "It’s made out of cheap gray plastic, not silver. You couldn’t even kill a fish with it, let alone a spirit." "Who died and made you the expert on exorcisms?" Ronan scowled. "I should use this cheap gray plastic to blind myself, after that little performance. Matteo, are you out of your mind?"

“ I don't understand why she treats you this way. Yet you stop me from giving her a piece of my mind.’’ he says, bringing his fingers over my cheeks and brushing his knuckles over my skin. I can't help but shut my eyes relishing at the feeling it brings. “ I'm not going to be the reason you go against your mother.’’ “ but alondra…’’ “ Come on, Weston,’’ I interrupted, “ we should go before someone catches us.’’ “ Sometimes I wonder why I'm so much more comfortable with you than those whom I call my family. I love them but with you my life feels complete.’’ END OF FLASHBACK. ~~~~~~~~~ He said it won't stop for the first time he said it that day. if you have completed my presents. Now it certa

“It means he planted something in your safehouse database. Something that reshapes Raven’s past. Names. Details. Timelines. As if she was never who she thought she was.” I didn’t move an didn’t breathe. Matteo sat up straighter. “Where is it?” Franca laughed. “Oh, I won’t tell you. But I’ll send you a riddle.” “You’re joking.” She hung up. The riddle came by fax. FAX. Matteo stared at the machine like it had betrayed him personally. I took the paper. Read the lines aloud: “I know your hands, though never met, I keep the things you most forget. A voice once borrowed, now your own. Find me where the past was grown.”

he asked, like a man who already knew the answer. I didn’t. I moved first, because whatever was outside would be questioned by men who took orders from Raphael. That thought alone sharpened my throat. I crossed the kitchen in two steps and opened the door a crack, the chain still on. There was a package on the mat: small, wrapped in brown paper, tied tight with twine. No note folded on top. No flourish. Just a package. Matteo’s face turned pale like old plaster. “Who brought it?” he asked.

"I have never seen her before. She doesn't smell like the others. What is she? What does her wolf look like?" "Do you really care that much?" Ragnar's eyes begin to shimmer, indicating to Rafael that he is annoyed. His long fingers impatiently tap the counter. "What's the matter, friend? I'm just asking, maybe she is the mate I've been waiting for all these years." Rafael's back hits the wall, causing a loud noise that attracts the attention of everyone in the hallways. No one outside is capable of hearing the reason for the argument, but everyone can see the anger on the alpha's face.

Matteo answered smartly. It was almost as if he knew what was going to be asked, and he had calculated all the answers that he had to give. “Matteo, please!” I resorted to pleading. “My mother is dead, and there’s no definite person to see as the perpetrator. If you know anything about it, just say it. Even if you don’t have anything to do with it, you must know something.” Matteo leaned closer to the table once again, looking around at the room as if trying to make sure that for good measure, there was nobody with us. For a brief moment, I thought that was it. I thought he was going to tell me whatever it was that he knew.