Chapter Nine

Mattia

"We have a problem."

Rafe glances over at me as we stride across the harbor side by side. "Tell me something I don't know," he mutters, his brows furrowed.

"I'm not talking about this shit." I nod at the shell of the warehouse marked off with yellow crime scene tape. He's not wrong about this being a problem, though. We've killed more people in that fucking warehouse than I care to consider at the moment. We clean up after ourselves, but let's be honest. When you've killed as many people inside as we have, evidence is bound to be left behind. Having the cops sniffing around is a major problem.

If the fire didn't gut it completely, they're going to do everything in their power to find a reason to scour it from top to bottom. They always do when they're allowed on Valentino property.

"What's the issue?" Rafe asks, his voice pitched low so it doesn't carry to any of the fucking cops milling around.

"Brio Cascella."

A dark scowl crosses his face as soon as I say the prick's name. He doesn't even know the half of it, though. What Aurelia told me last night is an entirely new level of fucked up. He intended to use Rafe's own sister to kidnap his son. And he's holding Aurelia's mom hostage to accomplish it.

God knows what he intends to do with the baby when he gets his hands on him. At best, he forces Rafe to step down in exchange for the baby's safety. At worst…well, the possibilities are too fucking grim to consider.

And Aurelia has been living with them weighing on her mind for months. She's been tormented with the possibilities for weeks, knowing if she does what Brio wants, she rips an innocent child from her brother's arms and condemns him. And if she doesn't, she condemns her mother to death. It's no wonder she's been so afraid to trust anyone. He made it fucking impossible for her to trust. How could she when the consequences of telling anyone the truth meant killing the woman who raised her? He fucking put that on her—made her live for months believing that she'd be responsible for the death of a child or the death of her mother.

I'm going to rip him apart for that alone. Every fucking moment of torment he's visited on her mind, he'll pay for in blood and flesh. I want him howling in agony.

But Rafe has a right to know exactly what's been going on, too. He's the Capo. This is his family. But make no mistakes about it. When Brio dies, I intend for it to be by my hand.

"He's plotting against you," I murmur, my voice pitched low. "I've got proof."

"You're surprised?" One of Rafe's dark brows arches. "I've been waiting for that shoe to drop since Elio dropped dead. Figured he'd have made a move long before now."

"He did. We just didn't catch it."

"What kind of move?"

I hesitate for a moment, reluctant to tell him the particulars out here with half a dozen of Chicago's Finest milling around. He isn't going to take it well, and I'd rather not have an audience for this shit.

La Cosa Nostra business is La Cosa Nostra business. That's always been our way. We don't parade it out in the streets. We don't involve the cops. We handle it behind closed doors.

But we're past that now because we've got two potential crises on our hands, and we need all hands on deck.

"He kidnapped Aurelia two months ago," I say, my voice flat. "He intended to use her against you. It didn't work out for him."

Rafe stops walking, turning to face me. "What the fuck, Mattia? How long have you known about this?"

"I've known bits and pieces for the last few days. There are reasons I didn't tell you, but believe me, Rafe. This isn't the place you want to discuss them." I cut my eyes at the nearest cop, silently reminding him that we have an audience. "I'll tell you everything you want to know as soon as we're finished here, but you need to call everyone in for this. Nico included."

Rafe eyes me for a long, silent moment, a muscle in his jaw ticking. And then he mutters a curse. "You better fucking hope we can trust her."

"She's my wife," I growl. "We can trust her."

Rafe's expression morphs from disbelief to fury in a heartbeat. "Married? You're fucking married? When the hell did this happen, Mattia?" His voice is a lethal whisper, meant only for my ears, but it carries the weight of a looming storm.

"Three days ago," I answer, my tone level. I understand exactly why he's pissed that I kept it from him. After everything this family has been through, we don't keep secrets, not like this. And this isn't some small thing. It's major. He doesn't even know just how major it is yet, either.

I'm fully aware that when he does know the truth, things will never be the same between us again. He's been the closest thing I've had to a brother for as long as I can remember. It's going to hurt like hell to lose that. But I don't regret my choice. It was the right one. Even if he never agrees, I'll stand by it. Even if he kills me for it, I'll die with a fucking smile on my face because she's mine.

"It was necessary, Rafe. It ensured her safety—and ours. I'll explain everything, just not here."

"You didn't fucking think to mention this yesterday? Or, I don't know, at any point in the last three days?"

"It's complicated. Far more than you realize."

Before he can respond, Luca jogs toward us, his face a mask of frustration. "The warehouse is a total loss," he mutters. "But the fucking cops aren't playing nice. They have questions for us. I'll hazard a guess that ninety percent won't have anything to do with the warehouse." He pauses, glancing between the two of us as if only just sensing the tension. "Lover's quarrel?"

"Mattia got married three days ago and failed to mention it," Rafe growls.

Luca's eyes widen as he processes the news.

"You got married without telling any of us? What the fuck, Mattia? Didn't we just go through this shit with Domani?"

Before I can respond, Rafe's hand shoots up, signaling for Luca to back off. He turns back to me, his jaw set. "I'm calling a meeting. We'll deal with this then. Right now, we need to focus on the immediate situation." His voice is clipped, authoritative. The Capo dei Capi has spoken.

And he's mad as hell.

Unfortunately, I don't have high hopes that anything I tell him in the meeting is going to improve his mood any.

Cazzo. This is a fucking shitshow.

"Where were you on the night of April 12th, 2022, Mr. Valentino?"

"Enough!" Rafe growls, anger snapping in his eyes as he glares at the pair of detectives who have been grilling us for the last few hours. "You've insulted me, my family, and my business again and again, and I've tolerated it in the interest of justice. You insinuated that I burned down my own warehouse with no motive and absolutely nothing to gain, and I entertained every ridiculous question. Now, you've moved on to the same tired fucking questions I've answered for you a dozen times before. I'm not answering them again."

"Is that because you have something to hide?"

Rafe leans across the table, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he pins the younger detective with a menacing look. "No," he says, his voice level. "It's because if you're still asking me about Tommaso Genovese, you clearly have no fucking clue how to do your job, and you're just wasting my time."

"No one said anything about Tommaso Genovese, Mr. Valentino."

"You didn't have to say his name, Detective. A monkey fucking a football is more subtle," Diego Butera mutters, making Luca snort. He's the family lawyer. We called him as soon as it became clear that they were going to make us answer their fucking questions.

Any opportunity they can find to drag us in here to ask about Genovese, the man Rafe killed when he kidnapped Amalia, they're going to take. It's standard operating procedure around here. I'm sure it's probably in their fucking handbook at this point, immortalized in ink right beside their SOPs on only promoting corrupt pieces of shit to the highest ranks and looking the other way when one of their own violates the law.

This entire fucking organization is a cancer on this city. They call us criminals, yet they look in the mirror and think they're any different. It's laughable.

Rafe rises to his feet with a shake of his head. "We're done here. Unless you intend to slap cuffs on me—and let's be real, we all know that's not happening—you can go to hell. I didn't burn down my warehouse. I don't know where Genovese is. And the two of you couldn't detect your heads out of your asses if your lives depended on it."

He glances at me and Luca, jerking his head in a nod. "We're done here."

Diego taps the table, smirking at the detectives. "You heard him. This interview is over."

They scowl at Diego, clearly pissed, but don't bother even trying to convince anyone to continue talking. They know it's not going to happen.

We've been down this road far too many times before. They do everything they can to get someone to say something incriminating. They fail. And the next time something happens, we rinse and repeat. Ad nauseum.

We file out of the interview room and then out of the station, not speaking. No one says a single word until we're in the parking lot.

"Fucking cops," Luca mutters then, shuddering as if just being here makes his skin crawl.

Rafe curses, his jaw clenched. Repressed fury burns in his eyes, glittering like obsidian flames. "Are you heading back to the harbor?" he asks his brother.

Luca glances at his phone to check the time and then nods. "Yeah. Someone should be there with Domani until they get tired of digging through the rubble."

"Call me when you're finished. We'll meet after." He flicks his gaze in my direction, not speaking, and then turns on his heel and strides off.

I sigh, tipping my head back to mutter a curse up at the cloudless blue sky.

It's going to be a long fucking night.

"The house survived," Aurelia says, looking up at me from the sofa when I step through the door an hour later, a tiny smile on her lips. She looks fucking stunning, as usual. Cristo. I never knew a simple set of curves could keep my dick so hard, but here we are. "So did all of your stuff."

"Good girl," I murmur, leaning over the back of the couch to kiss her.

She wrinkles her nose, sniffing the air. "You smell like smoke."

"I've been at a fire." I pinch the bridge of my nose. "And then the police station."

"A fire? What happened?"

"Someone burned down one of the Valentino warehouses."

Her eyes widen, fear shooting through them. "You don't think…"

I fucking hate that her mind immediately goes there. I hate it even more that I can't rule him out as a suspect for her, either. It very well could have been him. He's certainly high on my list right now. In fact, the motherfucker is at the top of it. But I'm not telling her that. She's been afraid of him for long enough.

"I don't know, little mouse." I brush my thumb across her cheek. "It might have been him. It could have been any number of other people, too. We'll figure it out and handle it like we always do."

She nibbles on her bottom lip, staring up at me with wide eyes.

"No one was hurt. That's all that matters."

"Okay," she whispers after a moment, relaxing slightly.

I lean down to kiss her again, but she leans away from me.

"No way. You stink. You're probably covered in all sorts of gross chemical stuff, too." She stares up at me, completely serious. "You should probably wash your hands before you touch your penis, Mattia. I read somewhere that testicular cancer is rampant amongst firefighters because of all the chemicals and things they deal with."

"Jesus Christ."

"I'm serious."

"I can see that, topolina." I chuckle, shaking my head. She's so fucking sweet. "I'll do even better than washing my hands. I'll go shower just for you."

She beams up at me, making my fucking heart flutter.

"I'm kissing you as soon as I'm clean," I warn her. "Don't think I'm not."

"We'll see," she says, mischief dancing in her eyes.

"Yeah, we'll see." I shake my head and stride toward the bedroom to shower, smiling. Christ, I love her. I never realized how empty my life and this house were until the last few days with her. Everything feels different now. Brighter, more alive. For the first time since my parents died, this place feels like a home. My life feels full.

One way or another, I intend to keep her. Whatever I have to do, I'll do. So long as it ends with her in my arms permanently, I'll do it.

Coda calls while I'm stripping out of my suit.

"Rafe called a meeting," he says by way of greeting.

"I know."

"Is it about her?"

"It is."

"You're telling him," he guesses.

"I am."

"Are you going to tell him that you drugged her and forced her to marry you?"

"Jesus Christ, Coda," I mutter.

"It's a valid question, Mattia. He's going to want to know how the fuck it happened."

I sigh heavily, tipping my head back to look up at the ceiling. "What do you want me say? That I fucking married her to protect the family? That I did what I had to do just like I always do? That I'm a fucking heartless asshole for it? You already knew that." I blow out a breath, falling silent for a moment. If that's what he wants, I can't give him that. Maybe I am an asshole, but I married her because she's fucking mine.

"Jesus," he mutters.

"Do you want me to tell you that I regret marrying her or that I never should have done it? What is it you want to hear, Coda?"

That'd be a lie too, and I'm not going to fucking lie about it. Not to him. Not to Rafe. Not to anyone. If I die for what I did, I'll die for the truth.

"I saw the way you looked at her that night, Mattia," Coda says quietly. "I saw it again last night. We both know that isn't why you married her. We both know you don't regret it. You're in love with her."

"Yeah, I am." I blow out a breath, not denying it. Why would I? In three days, she's become the reason I breathe. Nothing matters without her. Fucking nothing. "I plan to tell him everything. I'll leave your name out of it, but I'm not going to lie to him."

Coda is quiet for a moment. "I never cared if he knew I was involved, Mattia. That's not why I'm calling. My orders are to protect this family, no matter what. I did that when I helped you rescue her. I did it again when I signed my name on your marriage license. She's safer with you than she will be with anyone else because you love her. You'll protect her above anyone and anything. It's who you are. Once Rafe calms down, he'll realize it, too."

"She's his sister."

"And she's your wife. Sounds to me like you're both going to want to protect the same woman. You do the math," he says.

I shove a hand through my hair. He makes it sound so fucking easy, but we both know it's not. Our path is littered with pitfalls. I married the Capo's sister without even telling him that she existed. And I did it without giving her a choice. It doesn't matter why I did it. Any way you slice it, he's going to be pissed.

I don't regret a single fucking thing I did. I don't regret a single moment with her. But Rafe…well, convincing him to see the light has never been particularly easy. He's a stubborn bastard with his own moral code. And in Rafe's world, women are untouchable. Coda knows that. Everyone knows it. I didn't just touch one. I drugged her and forced her to marry me. He's going to lose his fucking mind.

"Why are you calling, Coda?"

"Her mother," he says. "I think I may know where she is."