Chapter 29 The Weight of Legacy
Matteo
The knock on the office door was purely ceremonial.
Alessio was already seated in one of the leather armchairs, a crystal glass in hand, his coat hung neatly on the back of the other. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes were sharp as ever—still capable of reducing grown men to ash with a look.
“Shut the door,” he said without turning. “And pour yourself something. You’ll want a drink for this.”
I did as told.
The scotch burned less than usual.
He waited until I sat across from him before speaking again. “She’s impressive.”
My brow lifted. “She?”
“Don’t play dumb, Matteo. I may be old, but I’m not dead. That girl’s sharp. And brave.” He sipped slowly. “You’re lucky.”
I stared at the ice in my glass. “You think so?”
“I know so.” He set his drink down with a heavy thunk. “The way she handled herself at brunch? Perfect. Warm but controlled. Soft-spoken but not meek. And the story? That ridiculous poker bet?” He chuckled deep in his chest. “I knew she was lying through her teeth. But it was entertaining. I haven’t laughed like that in years.”
I allowed myself a small smile. “She has a flair for drama.”
“Good. A woman in our world needs that.” His tone shifted, quiet but firm. “Does she know what you do?”
“She knows enough.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
I held his gaze. “No. Not everything.”
“Then she trusts you more than she should. And you trust her less than you let on.”
I didn’t respond. Because he was right. On both counts.
He studied me for a moment longer, then leaned back in his chair. “You plan to give her children?”
I froze.
He didn’t.
“That’s what this is about, isn’t it? You wouldn’t marry unless you needed to. I can still read between the lines, even if the contracts are encrypted and shredded. This marriage isn’t for love, it’s for blood.” He tapped his fingers against the glass. “So tell me. When will we be expecting the first heir?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
Alessio gave me a long, unreadable look. “Well, I hope you do soon. Because that girl’s got the makings of a queen. And our legacy deserves more than silence.”
He stood and clasped my shoulder as he passed. “Don’t waste this one, Matteo. You might not get another.”
And just like that, he was gone.
Leaving me alone in the quiet hum of the office, scotch in hand, and the taste of expectations still burning in my throat.
Later that evening, I went looking for her.
I found her barefoot in sweatpants and a hoodie so old it looked like it belonged to a teenage version of herself. Her hair was up in some careless knot, a dab of peanut butter on the sleeve.
“Perfect,” I said.
She blinked. “What?”
“Come watch a movie with me.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You’re joking.”
I leaned on the doorframe and crossed my arms. “Grandfather’s going to be wandering the halls tonight. He wants to see us together. When we think no one’s watching.”
She narrowed her eyes. “So you want to stage a performance.”
I shrugged. “Think of it as dinner theater, minus the dinner.”
She groaned but grabbed her phone. “Fine. But if you make me watch something boring, I’ll fall asleep and drool on your shirt.”
We walked to the family room—lights dimmed, blanket folded on the armrest, TV already queued up.
She stopped. “When Harry Met Sally?”
I didn’t flinch. “It’s a classic.”
“It’s ancient.”
“And it makes people believe in love. That’s the point.”
She gave me a look but sank onto the couch anyway.
Carol appeared with a bowl of popcorn. “Here you go, dears.” She shot me a sly glance before leaving us alone.
I dropped onto the cushion beside Valentina and leaned in close. “Just remember—he could peek in at any moment. So play the part.”
She sighed dramatically, then fed me a piece of popcorn like she was suffering.
The movie started. For a moment, the silence between us felt almost… normal.
And then—
“You seriously agree with her faking it at the deli?”
She gasped. “Are you serious? That scene is cinematic gold.”
“She faked it.”
“She was proving a point.”
I scoffed. “You women love weaponizing performance.”
“You men love pretending you don’t notice.”
She shoved a kernel into my mouth, and I caught her wrist mid-air.
I kissed her.
Quick. Clean. Soft.
Then again. Slower this time.
Just long enough for my hand to find her thigh.
She was warm. Too warm. And looking up at me like she’d forgotten it wasn’t real.
Then—
“Ah,” came Alessio’s voice from the hall. “It’s nice to see this room used again.”
We both startled.
He stood behind the couch, hands in his pockets, smile half-shadowed by the lamplight. “You two enjoy yourselves. I’m off to bed.”
He turned and left without waiting for a response.
Valentina exhaled like she’d been holding her breath for a week.
I wonder how long he had stood there watching us. We were fully engrossed in the movie and the moment that we completely forgot we were performing.
At least I had forgotten.
I grabbed a handful of popcorn like it didn’t mean a thing. Like I hadn’t just kissed her for real.
Like I didn’t want to do it again.