Chapter 55 Distortions and Debts
Valentina
There were two versions of Matteo Genovese.
The one the world saw—refined, ruthless, impenetrable. And the one who leaned in close, mouth at my ear, fingers digging into my thigh like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to punish me or worship me.
I wasn’t sure which version scared me more.
After breakfast, I excused myself and made my way back to my suite. I needed space to think. To reset. To remember who I was.
The woman who buried her name ten years ago.
The girl they didn’t know existed.
The ghost who came back to burn them all.
Matteo might have been surprised by the way I played breakfast—but that little performance wasn’t for him. It was for Alessio. For Luca. For Arianna.
The bruises on my arm had just been a lucky break. I’d completely forgotten they were even there until Alessio spotted them and asked with that concerned paternal tone he used when pretending we were all just one big happy crime family.
What happened to your arm?
I’d smiled and lied so easily it frightened me.
Caught it on something on the plane.
Oh? On what?
Just a bit clumsy. Turbulence maybe.
Should I have the plane inspected?
No need. I’m fine.
And then Luca had started sweating. Stammering. Making excuses about jet lag and too much alcohol—and then Alessio hit him with the bomb:
I didn’t realize you were on the flight as well…
The look on Luca’s face was beautiful.
But now I was alone in my suite again, I poured myself a glass of water and stared out the window into my courtyard.
The island was behind us. The performance was over. Now came the real work.
I had to start mapping every business the Genovese family had their claws in—figure out what I could siphon, what I could expose, and what I could inherit.
If I played this right, I wouldn’t have to kill Alessio. Matteo and Luca would cancel each other out, and I’d step in to “grieve” and clean up the mess. Maybe even find a suitable scapegoat.
Arianna was looking more promising by the minute.
A knock on the door pulled me out of my thoughts.
I opened it to find Matteo leaning against the frame, suit jacket off, shirt sleeves rolled, a glint in his eyes that said he was still riding the high from breakfast.
He stepped in without invitation and lowered his voice. “You’re dangerous, you know that?” He shut the door behind him.
I met his gaze. “And you’re only just figuring that out?”
He laughed—quiet and sharp. “God help me, I think I like it.”
I let him kiss me. Just once. Just long enough to keep up the illusion.
But inside, I was already ten moves ahead.
Matteo released me slowly from the kiss, his breath brushing against my jaw as he lingered—like he couldn’t decide if he was about to devour me or deliver news that might snap our little charade in two.
Instead, he murmured, “Alessio knows.”
I blinked, masking the jolt that shot through me. “Knows what?”
He pulled back just enough to watch my face. “Everything. The footage. The fight you overheard. Even the recording.”
I tilted my head. “Did you tell him?”
“No,” Matteo said, voice edged with something darker. “He asked to see the tapes. Acted like he hadn’t seen them yet—but I’m not stupid. He already knew. Just wanted to see if I’d lie to his face.”
I moved toward the window, lifting my glass again. “So, the timeline just got tighter.”
He nodded. “Luca’s officially on Alessio’s shit list. But because he’s family, he gets mercy. A thin, bitter slice of it.”
“What kind of mercy?”
“One-month freeze,” he said. “No accounts. No perks. No business access. Just silence. If he were anyone else, he’d be dead where he stood.”
I let out a soft, amused breath. “That’s really going to put a damper on their happy little marriage.”
“Exactly,” Matteo said, stepping behind me, arms crossing over his chest. “Alessio’s not going to confront them—not yet. He’s going to let them keep performing. Let them scramble and scheme and collapse under their own weight. He wants them to hang themselves.”
Perfect.
So much better than I could’ve planned.
If Luca and Arianna’s precious contract started to crack under financial pressure… if they turned on each other before the end of the month… the timing would be chef’s kiss for what I needed.
A plausible motive.
A crumbling alliance.
And two greedy little traitors with a mountain of reasons to take out Matteo.
The setup was writing itself.
But that meant I had less time than I thought. One month. One chance. Because after that, the money would flow again—and with it, their loyalty to each other would solidify. My window would slam shut.
I was still calculating the angles when Matteo’s voice cut through the silence.
“You with me?”
I blinked and turned, letting my expression stay soft. “Yeah. Sorry. Just jetlagged. And my to-do list is getting longer by the second.”
He stepped closer, so close I had to tilt my chin to meet his eyes. “I’ll let you get to it,” he said, brushing a thumb along my jaw. “Rosco and I have a few things to handle. I should be back by tonight.”
I nodded, but he didn’t move. Instead, he slid his hands down, slow and deliberate, gripping my hips before palming my ass with both hands.
His voice dropped to a rasp, rough and filthy. “Maybe when I get back… we celebrate a little. Because baby, the way you handled breakfast?” He leaned in until his lips brushed my ear. “Had my cock rock-hard under the table. The more you put on that little act of yours, the more I want to bend you over and remind you who you belong to.”
I exhaled slowly, tilting my head so he couldn’t see the flicker of calculation in my eyes.
“Yes, sir,” I whispered.
And this time, the lie tasted almost sweet.