Chapter 39 A Grand Exit
Valentina
The clink of forks against crystal signaled the last toast. Laughter drifted through the ballroom like candle smoke, soft and slow, winding down from the high of champagne bubbles and polite applause. Most of the guests were still glowing from dinner, dazed by wine, dessert, and the illusion of love well-played.
I was still wearing the smile I’d painted on two hours ago.
From the head table, Alessio stood and tapped the edge of his glass—just once.
Every head turned. Every conversation paused.
He didn’t raise his voice, didn’t need to. When Alessio Genovese spoke, silence followed like a loyal dog.
“My friends,” he said, beaming down at the room as if he’d just won the lottery and not arranged a mafia marriage between two snakes. “Thank you all for being here tonight. It has meant the world to me to see so many of you witness this beautiful union—one that, I believe, signals a new era for this family.”
He turned toward us—Matteo beside me, his hand lazily draped across the back of my chair, thumb brushing the nape of my neck. His grip tightened slightly as Alessio continued.
“And now,” Alessio said with a grin that was all old-world charm and perfectly timed mischief, “let’s send the bride and groom off in style. Everyone please make your way outside and line up along the drive—”
A beat. A twinkle in his eye.
“—so they can be properly cheered on as they begin their honeymoon. And of course… get started on that great-grandchild I’ve been waiting on.”
Laughter erupted across the room, light and delighted. A few women gasped with mock-shock. Someone whooped. Rosco clapped slowly, knowingly, like the devil’s favorite uncle.
I managed not to choke on air.
Matteo leaned closer, his breath grazing my ear. “You heard the man.”
I didn’t look at him. Didn’t trust myself to. Not with my heart beating like it had something to hide.
Instead, I rose slowly as the crowd began their exodus to the doors. Matteo offered his arm with the kind of suave confidence that came naturally to men who had killed and kissed with the same mouth.
I took it.
Because tonight, I was the bride.
Tomorrow, I’d still be the spy.
But for now—there was an empire to inherit…
and an heir to pretend to create.
The flash of phones and flicker of sparklers danced across the driveway like fireflies on a summer night. People clapped, cheered, tossed white petals into the air with champagne still on their tongues and expectation in their eyes.
Matteo’s hand rested possessively against the small of my back, guiding me through the tunnel of guests like a prize he’d won. I smiled—graceful, glowing, the perfect Genovese bride—because that was what they wanted to see.
They didn’t know it was all built on ash.
As we reached the waiting limousine, Alessio stepped forward. “You look radiant, cara,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “Make my grandson happy, and give me a great-grandchild worthy of this name.”
I nodded, swallowing the sour taste rising in my throat. “Thank you. For everything.”
He stepped back, and Matteo opened the door for me like a gentleman—if you ignored the smirk twitching at his lips like he was already imagining me on my back.
I climbed in. He followed, and the door shut with a muted thunk, cutting off the cheers like a curtain falling on a play.
The second the car pulled away, we both dropped it.
His hand left my waist. My smile vanished. We sat in silence for a beat, just breathing like we’d surfaced from underwater.
“God,” I muttered, dragging a hand down my face. “That was exhausting.”
He loosened his collar, leaned his head back, and sighed. “You played your part well, Mrs. Genovese.”
I shot him a look. “You didn’t do so bad yourself. I think even your grandfather believed you were in love.”
“Oh, he absolutely believes it.” Matteo smirked without opening his eyes. “That was the point.”
I stared out the window, expecting to see familiar city streets flashing past. But the route twisted, unfamiliar. My brows knit.
“Where are we going?” I asked. “We’re not headed back to the house.”
“No,” he said, cracking his neck before finally looking at me. “You heard my grandfather—we’ve got a honeymoon to start.”
I blinked. “Wait. What?”
“His gift,” Matteo said with a shrug. “He insisted. What would it look like if the newlyweds skipped the honeymoon?”
My stomach tightened. “I’m still in my dress.”
“It’s fine.” His voice dripped casual authority. “Carol packed for you. The luggage is already on the plane.”
I jerked my head toward him. “Plane?”
He smiled.
The limo curved around a bend, and there it was—private tarmac, runway lights glowing like fallen stars, and a sleek jet waiting with stairs already lowered. A crew member stood at attention at the base.
“You’re kidding.”
Matteo leaned in, eyes gleaming. “Would I ever?”
I opened my mouth. Closed it. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll find out when we land.”
I groaned. “I didn’t even pack anything.”
“I told you. Carol handled it. But…” His gaze drifted down my body, slow and unapologetic. “If you’re uncomfortable, I’d be more than happy to help you change. On the plane.”
He gave a wolfish grin.
“Or,” he added, “you could wait until we arrive… and I can help you then.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re incorrigible.”
He leaned closer, voice low. “And you, cara mia, are my wife now. Incorrigible is part of the package.”
Outside, the limo slowed to a stop beside the jet. The driver opened the door, and cold air swept in.
Showtime again.
But this time, the audience was just him.
The cabin of the jet was straight out of a billionaire’s fever dream—soft gold lighting, wide cream leather seats, mahogany trim polished to a mirror shine. It smelled like leather, wealth, and him. Matteo slid into one of the seats like he owned the sky itself. Which, I supposed, he kind of did.
I followed, my dress rustling like silk thunder as I settled across from him, trying not to wrinkle the layers of tulle and pearl. Then I looked up—and nearly choked.
A woman emerged from the back galley, her pencil skirt so short it may as well have been a napkin. Her shirt clung to her surgically plumped chest like it owed her rent, and the three top buttons had simply given up. Glossed lips, sky-high heels, long black hair twisted into a too-perfect bun.
Her eyes landed on me in my full wedding gown—and widened in confusion.
I stared back, deadpan. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Matteo didn’t even blink. “I didn’t have time to hire a new flight attendant. This trip was sprung on me last-minute.”
“Of course,” I said flatly. “And let me guess… Maria here is your usual in-flight entertainment?”
He smirked. “You could say that.”
Maria’s mouth twitched like she wasn’t sure if she should smile or leave the cabin. I didn’t care which she picked.
I turned away and waved her off with a flick of my fingers. “Maria, darling, why don’t you make yourself useful and bring me a bottle of tequila? No glass. No salt. Just the lime.”
Maria hesitated, then clicked off toward the bar in those stilettos that screamed daddy issues and poor judgment.
Matteo arched a brow. “Planning to drink the whole thing?”
“I’m planning,” I said coolly, “to survive the night.”
He chuckled under his breath, lounging back like he’d already won.
But I sipped vengeance like wine.
And tonight, I’d chase it with Patron.