Chapter 73 Hidden Doors and Open Secrets
Matteo
I must’ve been sleeping like the dead, because I didn’t even feel her get out of bed.
It was the scent of coffee that finally pulled me halfway out of whatever blackhole I’d passed out in. The sheets were still warm beside me, her spot freshly abandoned, and I was just rolling over when the door creaked open.
Valentina padded in, wrapped in a robe with a towel twisted around her hair, steam clinging to her like fog over a midnight lake. She looked soft. Cozy. Dangerous in a way that had nothing to do with knives or secrets and everything to do with how badly I wanted to pull her back into bed and undo every layer she’d just put on.
“Well, damn,” I said, voice still gravel from sleep. “Don’t you look cozy.”
She smirked and held up two mugs. “Get up. Breakfast’s already here.”
I blinked. “Breakfast?”
“Yep. I had Carol bring it to the suite.”
I sat up, pushing the blanket off my chest. “What about breakfast with Alessio?”
“We’re skipping it.” She handed me a mug and took a sip from hers. “I wanted us to eat here. Alone. No interruptions. No distractions.”
That pulled me fully awake.
I eyed her over the rim of my cup. “Okay, now I’m really curious. This wouldn’t have anything to do with what you wanted to tell me last night, would it?”
She just turned toward the little dining table, steam rising from silver trays like something out of a honeymoon suite. “Come on. Eat first.”
I rolled out of bed, found my pants, and tugged them on. Didn’t bother with a shirt. Or underwear. Or socks. She wanted real? She’d get me raw.
We sat at the table, steam rising between us. Pancakes, bacon, eggs. She’d gone all out.
“Damn,” I muttered, stabbing a piece of bacon. “I was starving. I’m just now realizing I forgot to have a second dinner.”
Valentina raised a brow. “A second dinner?”
“Look, when your life involves murder plots, fake weddings, and a cousin who talks more than he breathes, you earn a second dinner.”
She hummed, cutting into her eggs. “Fair.”
I chewed slowly, then glanced up. “Alright, baby. Spit it out.”
She exhaled, long and steady. “Okay. So… I saw Luca rummaging through your office late last night.”
My fork stopped halfway to my mouth.
“He was looking for something. Not just poking around—like, searching. He went through your desk, your filing cabinets, everything. And when he finally found what he was looking for, he took a picture of it on his phone. Then put it back like nothing happened and walked out of your office like he owned the place.”
I stared at her, heat rising slow behind my ribs.
“Excuse me… what?”
“Yeah,” she said, lips pressed tight. “I caught him. But I didn’t get a video like last time. Which I should’ve done, and I’m pissed at myself now.”
I pushed my chair back, ran a hand through my hair. “What the fuck could he possibly be—wait.” I narrowed my eyes. “How did you see all of this without him seeing you?”
Valentina hesitated. “That’s the other thing.”
I crossed my arms. “Oh, this should be good.”
She smiled like she knew damn well it was. “So, I was bored. I was messing with one of the books on my shelf, putting it back, and I guess I triggered some kind of latch. This hidden panel opened up—like, secret passageway level fantasy novel shit. So obviously, I went through it. Curiosity and all that.”
“Obviously,” I muttered.
“And every room has one. A door, labeled. Yours included. And when I walked past your office door, I realized the mirror on your wall? It’s a two-way mirror. I could see everything. Luca had no idea I was there.”
I stared at her.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I swear.” She shrugged. “I was just watching from the other side, like a ghost with a front-row seat.”
“This doesn’t make any fucking sense. I’ve lived in this house since I was a kid. You’re telling me there’s a full-blown network of hidden passageways and nobody ever told me?”
“You didn’t know they were here?”
“Valentina,” I said flatly, “if I did, I wouldn’t be standing here looking like I’ve just walked into Narnia.”
She grinned. “Want me to show you?”
“I’d be offended if you didn’t.”
We finished breakfast in a blur—her scarfing down toast, me throwing back coffee like it could erase the headache clawing its way up the back of my skull.
Then we got dressed. I threw on jeans and a shirt. She ditched the robe and slipped into black leggings and a fitted top that did nothing to help me focus.
She led me to her bookshelf, and ran her finger across the shelf to trigger the secret latch.
Click.
The panel opened like a whisper.
“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” I muttered.
She motioned me in. “Come on, Mr. Mafia King. Time for your tour.”
The passage was narrow and quiet, dust clinging to the corners, the scent of age and pinewood thick in the air. Every door had a name carved discreetly above it—Dining Room, Music Hall, Matteo’s Room.
And when we reached my office…
She opened the labeled door and revealed a tiny room. One chair. A mirror. A narrow vent overhead. Silent. Still.
“Jesus,” I breathed. “This looks like… a surveillance post.”
“That’s what I thought,” she said, stepping aside so I could get a closer look.
I sank into the chair and stared at the mirror. On the other side, my office sat untouched. Empty. Vulnerable.
“This is where someone would sit during meetings. Someone paranoid enough to want a witness. But not one anyone else could see.”
Valentina leaned against the wall. “You think Alessio knew about all this?”
“Oh, I know he did.” I stood. “I’m gonna have to talk to him.”
She bit her lip, hesitant. “Do you think he’s going to be mad at me? For finding it? Walking through it?”
I turned to her slowly, one brow raised. “Princess, Alessio loves you. You could probably set him on fire and he’d apologize for wearing flammable clothing.”
Her lips curled. “You sure?”
“If anything,” I said, taking a step closer, “he’s going to wonder how the hell I didn’t find them first.”