Chapter 149 Home Is Where the Chaos Lives
Valentina
The gates opened with their usual quiet hum, but somehow, everything felt different. Warmer. Softer. Like even the stone walls had missed me.
Matteo’s hand rested low on my back as we stepped into the estate, shopping bags dangling from his other arm like a true gentleman—or a dangerously hot pack mule.
Alessio was waiting just inside the foyer, cane in one hand, tumbler of something amber in the other.
“Well, look who survived Paris.” His eyes sparkled as they dropped to the shopping bags, then rose pointedly to my face. “How was the birthday trip, tesoro? Did you make me a great-grandfather yet?”
My mouth dropped open. “Alessio!”
Matteo just smirked.
I cleared my throat. “You’ve got to let nature take its course.”
“Ah,” he said wisely, “so it’s happening.”
I blushed so hard my ears burned.
He took a sip, eyes twinkling. “Good girl.”
“Stop taking notes from your grandson,” I muttered, sidestepping to hide my face against Matteo’s shoulder.
Alessio chuckled and waved a hand. “Come, come. I wasn’t able to give you your gift before Matteo swept you off to the city of romance. So here it is.”
He reached into his coat pocket and produced a long velvet box—deep purple, almost black, tied with a silk ribbon.
I blinked. “You didn’t have to—”
“Open it.”
I obeyed.
Inside, nestled against satin, was an amethyst pendant strung on a delicate platinum chain. Matching drop earrings sparkled beside it—deep violet, elegantly cut, catching the light like tiny galaxies.
My throat tightened. “Alessio…”
“Your birthstone,” he said simply. “Every queen deserves her crown jewels.”
I reached up and hugged him without thinking, careful of his glass. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”
He grumbled something about being too old for hugs but patted my back anyway.
Then—
“What. The actual. Fuck.”
Rosco’s voice rang out from behind us like a record scratch.
I turned.
He was frozen in the doorway, sunglasses perched on his head, gaze locked on the designer shopping bags Matteo had just set down beside the couch.
“You went shopping in Paris,” he said slowly, “without me?”
Matteo didn’t even flinch. “Yes.”
Rosco’s eyes widened like he’d just witnessed a public execution. “You did fashion week without your fashion bitch?!”
I laughed, instantly regretting it as Rosco’s betrayal turned on me.
“Et tu, Valentina?”
“You weren’t there!” I said, backing toward Alessio for safety. “It was last-minute!”
“You could’ve called,” he huffed. “One video call. A single FaceTime. I would’ve curated an entire lookbook in five minutes.”
Matteo, smug as hell, slung an arm around my shoulders. “Relax, Rosco. She still needs shoes.”
Rosco narrowed his eyes. “I’m reclaiming my title. Next time, I pick the lingerie.”
Alessio nearly choked on his drink.
I just covered my face. “Welcome home, me.”
“You will do no such thing,” Matteo said coolly, setting down the last of the bags. “I draw the line at you picking out lingerie for my wife to wear for me.”
Rosco blinked, already halfway into a dramatic retort.
“I don’t need you imagining her in it,” Matteo added, voice like velvet wrapped around a dagger.
I bit my lip, trying not to laugh as Rosco threw his hands up.
“I already imagine her in it—just to assess aesthetic synergy.”
“You’re one eye flick away from being assassinated,” Matteo warned.
That’s when Tess came skidding into the room like a hurricane wrapped in excitement.
“Oh my god! Look at all these bags!” Her eyes were huge. “Can I see what you got?! Please tell me there’s a sparkly dress. Tell me there’s a sparkly something.”
“Sure,” I said, grabbing a few handles and handing her the lighter ones. “But you have to help me put them away.”
“Deal!” she grinned, hoisting the bags like she’d just won a Parisian sweepstakes.
I turned to follow her out—but paused when I caught Matteo’s voice low behind me.
“Any news on Bexley docking?”
I didn’t hear Rosco’s reply. Just the soft clink of ice in a glass, Alessio chuckling about someone being “fashion bitch of the year,” and then Tess tugging my hand like a kid in a candy store.
By the time we got back to my suite, she was already peppering me with questions.
“Okay tell me everything. Did you see the Eiffel Tower? Was it romantic? What did you do? Did you dress up? Did you wear black? No—red. Wait—was it sparkly?! What did you wear to dinner?!”
I set the bags on the bed and turned to her, smiling.
“Oh Tess,” I said, dramatically pulling the first box from a bag and peeling back the tissue paper. “Let me tell you about Paris…”
I gave Tess all the details—from the dress Matteo had waiting for me on the jet to the restaurant, and the penthouse suite with its view that stole my breath almost as fast as he did.
By the time the fourth box hit the bed, she was half-buried in tissue paper, gasping and grinning like it was her birthday.
“This blouse is so you,” she declared, holding it up. “Elegant, seductive, and just the right amount of dangerous.”
I laughed, folding a dress onto a hanger. “You mean expensive.”
“That too.”
She reached for another bag—one of the matte black ones tucked at the bottom. “Ooh, this one looks… mysterious.”
She pulled out a sleek box and flipped it open before I could stop her.
Tess froze.
Then her eyes widened.
“Well shit.” She lifted the glass plug by its ring with a smirk. “You didn’t tell me you guys were kinky.”
I choked on air. “Tess!”
She pulled out the cock ring next. “You definitely didn’t tell me all the details. This is like a luxury starter pack for sin.”
“Put that down!”
She was laughing now, full throttle, inspecting the bullet with theatrical interest. “Remote-controlled, too? Girl. Girl. Did you use all of these in one night?”
I grabbed a pillow and hurled it at her. She dodged, gleeful.
“That’s classified,” I said, snatching the box from her hands and snapping the lid shut.
“Oh come on.” She flopped dramatically onto the bed. “You owe me at least one scandalous detail for emotional damage. Preferably involving restraints.”
I shook my head, cheeks burning—and not from shame.
“Let’s just say,” I murmured, sliding the black box into the bottom drawer, “Matteo doesn’t believe in moderation.”
Her grin could’ve lit the room.
“And that is why you’re glowing.”