Chapter 137 The Right Hand Lady
Valentina
Tess was already up and dressed when I knocked on her door. Not just dressed—ready. Hair smoothed, light makeup on, outfit crisp and coordinated. The girl looked like she was headed to a brunch photoshoot.
I raised a brow. “Well, color me impressed.”
She beamed at me like a wind-up doll. “I didn’t know what time you usually get going, so I set an alarm for six just in case. I’ve kind of just been… waiting.”
“Six?” I winced. “Oof. Rookie move. I should’ve told you.”
“It’s okay,” she said quickly. “I didn’t want to be late. Or miss anything. Or, like… oversleep and get fired on day one.”
I laughed. “Relax, princess. This isn’t corporate America. We don’t hand out pink slips for hitting snooze.” I leaned on the doorframe. “I usually start moving around nine. Sometimes earlier if there’s a lot going on. Matteo’s usually up by seven. Rosco too—he and Matteo are kind of attached at the hip.”
Tess nodded seriously, like she was mentally logging every time slot I mentioned.
“So if you’re my right hand lady…” I gave her a look. “I’d say aim for 8:30. Deal?”
“Deal,” she said instantly.
“Good. First order of business? Phone.”
Her eyes widened. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. Come on.”
We headed down the corridor, her heels clicking behind me as she tried to match my pace. When we reached Matteo’s office, I didn’t even knock. I just walked in like I owned the place. Because I did.
Rosco was inside, lounging in one of the leather chairs with a couple of guns laid out on the coffee table. He was wiping one down with a cloth, humming something under his breath. The sight of him surrounded by disassembled weapons didn’t faze me—but I stole a glance at Tess.
She’d paused, lips slightly parted. Not in fear. Not in shock.
No—she looked fascinated.
Noted.
I crossed the room to where Matteo was seated behind his desk. He looked up from whatever he was reading and smiled, spreading his legs just enough for me to settle between them as I slid onto his lap.
“Mm,” I murmured, looping my arms around his neck. “Morning.”
“Morning, wife,” he replied, brushing his lips against mine. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I need a phone for Tess.”
“Of course you do,” he said dryly, reaching into the top drawer of his desk. “It’s already set up. Tracker’s active. Important numbers are programmed in. I figured you’d come asking.”
“You’re the best.”
“Obviously,” he smirked, handing it over. “You don’t get to where I am unless you’re the best.”
“And also the worst,” I said, smacking his chest with a grin.
He caught my wrist and kissed the inside of it like the smug bastard he was.
When I turned back toward the door, I caught Tess watching Rosco again—really watching him. The way her head tilted slightly. The way her eyes lingered on the tattoos crawling down his arms, the way he checked the sightline of a pistol like it was just another cup of coffee.
I tucked that little observation away for later.
“Come on, Tess,” I said, jerking my chin toward the door. “Let’s go eat. Then we’ll figure out what to do with you today.”
She blinked and followed, clutching the new phone like it was a golden ticket.
As we stepped into the hall, Matteo’s voice followed us.
“I’m checking in with my PI today. I’ll let you know if he’s got anything on Bexley.”
“Please do,” I said over my shoulder. “If he has something, I want to hear it directly.”
Then I turned my attention back to Tess, who looked like she was walking on clouds.
“You doing okay?” I asked.
She nodded quickly. “More than okay. I still can’t believe any of this is real.”
“Get used to it,” I said. “You’re in the deep end now.”
We made our way down the hall, Tess practically skipping beside me with the new phone clutched in her hand like it was her firstborn.
When we reached the dining room, the long table was already partially set with the usual morning spread—glasses of juice, a carafe of fresh coffee on the warmer, warm biscuits in a basket under a linen cloth, bowls of sliced fruit, crispy bacon arranged on a platter like art. Carrol moved with practiced ease between the kitchen and the table, her expression focused and warm all at once.
“Well, good morning, ladies,” she said, wiping her hands on her apron as we entered. “What can I get you to eat?”
I pulled out a chair and dropped into it with a contented sigh. “I think I want biscuits and gravy today. And two eggs, fried, over medium.”
Carrol nodded. “Of course, sweetheart.”
She turned to Tess, who looked adorably unsure as she hovered beside the chair across from me.
“And for you, miss?”
“Oh, um…” Tess hesitated. “I don’t know.”
Carrol smiled kindly, hands on her hips. “You can have anything you’d like, honey. Just say the word.”
“Okay…” Tess glanced at the food already laid out on the table, then back at Carrol. “Could I maybe have scrambled eggs with some cheese melted on top?”
“You sure can,” Carrol said with a wink. “Coming right up.”
Tess looked relieved as she slid into the chair. “Thank you… Aunt Carrol?”
Carrol chuckled. “That’s what everyone ends up calling me eventually. Might as well start now.”
I stood and made my way to the coffee bar in the corner of the room. The scent was already waking me up—rich and nutty, the perfect roast.
Tess reached for a glass of orange juice, pouring it slowly while eyeing the options on the table. She took a couple of strawberries and a slice of bacon, nibbling delicately like she didn’t want to look greedy.
I filled my cup and returned to the table, snatching a piece of cantaloupe and a strip of bacon on the way. No shame in pre-breakfast snacking. Especially not in this house.
Tess glanced at me as I sat. “So… why was Roscoe cleaning guns?”
I smirked around the rim of my mug. “Because it’s Tuesday.”
She blinked. “Wait, seriously?”
I set the mug down and gave a casual shrug. “We don’t exactly live in a normal neighborhood, Tess. Security here is tight. Roscoe’s job is to make sure the people who need protecting are protected. That includes knowing where the exits are, who’s pulling surveillance duty, and yes… keeping our guns clean and ready.”