Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 43928 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 220(@200wpm)___ 176(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43928 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 220(@200wpm)___ 176(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
I've never met anyone like him. There are puzzles, and then there's Mattia Agostino. He's more complicated than the Seven Bridges of Königsberg.
"How did you end up with my brothers?" I ask. "How did you end up in the mafia? In this life? Tell me something real, Mattia. Anything."
"Anything, huh?" His eyes narrow thoughtfully, as if he's considering just how far he's willing to go, just how real he can allow himself to be with me.
"Please," I plead quietly.
After a long pause, he sets down his fork and wipes his mouth with a napkin. He leans back in his chair, studying me with that unflinching gaze of his. His gray eyes are like storm clouds, dark and unreadable. He's looking for something, though. Some hint as to why I need this so badly, perhaps.
I don't have an explanation for him. Not one I'm willing to give him right now. Instead, I hold my breath, waiting.
"All right," he finally concedes with a sigh. "I'll tell you something real, topolina. When I was seven, my parents were murdered."
The word hangs in the air between us—murdered—echoing over and over. But it doesn't truly sink in until I see the haunted look in his eyes. For the first time, there's a hint of vulnerability seeping through those impregnable walls of his.
"My father led our family," he continues. "We weren't a powerful family, but we were affiliated. He intentionally crossed another family for your father. They retaliated." His voice is steady, but I see the ghosts of his memories in his eyes. "My mother was six months pregnant with my little brother at the time."
"Mattia," I whisper, horrified.
"I was the only one who survived."
"You were there?"
He shakes his head. "I was spending the night with Rafe when it happened." He clears his throat. "Rafe's parents—your father—ensured that I was taken care of. I spent most of my childhood at the Valentino estate afterward. Your father trained me. He thought I'd be advising Nico when he died, but obviously, that changed when Nico left the family. Instead of Nico, I pledged my loyalty to Rafe."
My heart contracts painfully at his admission. He lost so much so young because of my father. And my father scooped him up and pulled him into this life before he ever had a chance to know anything different. He was forged by loss and molded by the mafia before he was even finished growing.
That's heartbreaking.
"I didn't choose this life, Aurelia," he finishes quietly, "It chose me. But having lived it, having seen the darkest parts of it—I wouldn't trade it. This is who I am."
"I'm sorry," I whisper, my heart aching for him.
He reaches across the table, his fingertips barely brushing mine, but it's enough. It's too much. That simple touch sends a spark through my veins, searing every nerve ending in my body.
I pull back, trying to rein in the wild beating of my heart. Trying desperately not to soften further toward him. But he makes it so damn hard when everything in me screams to just let go and fall into him.
He meets my gaze again, something unfathomable in his eyes. "I'd go through it again if the path brought me to you, little mouse."
For a moment, everything else ceases to exist. There's only Mattia—the man forged by pain and loyalty. The one I'm beginning to think would walk through fire if it led to me.
I'm the last thing he needs in his life, and yet…he chose me anyway.
God, please. Don't let me destroy him. Please.
"Mattia, I…"
"Finish your breakfast, Aurelia. We have things to do today."
I stare at him for a long moment, wanting to say…something. But my mind is a jumble. All I know for sure is that if I destroy him, it's going to destroy me. Not because I need his protection or because I think he can keep me safe, but because for the first time in a long time, I feel alive.
He makes me feel alive.
This wasn't supposed to happen. And yet, it is. Terrifyingly fast.
Chapter Five
Mattia
Shopping with Aurelia is a study in frustration. As soon as we enter the shop and the old bitch at the counter looks her over in cool, perfunctory assessment, the feisty woman who has been giving me hell since last night disappears. She gets antsy.
"Not you," I snap at the woman before she can even take a step in our direction. I point at a young blonde with a smile plastered across her face. "You can help us."
The old woman huffs and storms off to the back. Like I give a fuck. She isn't coming anywhere near Aurelia.
The blonde scurries forward to assist.
"She needs a wardrobe. Whatever she wants, she gets."
"Of course," the blonde says, still smiling as she leads us deeper into the store. She rattles on, but I barely listen, instead focused on Aurelia.