14. Matteo

14

MATTEO

T he crack of splintering bone echoes in the room as I land a powerful jab to Francesco's nose, causing blood to spill from his nostrils. It drips down, and the stain grows, ruining his crisp white shirt. I lower myself down to his level where he sits on a cheap metal chair in my makeshift interrogation cell in the basement of Fierce. Rocco pulls Francesco up by the nape of his neck so he's forced to look into my eyes. His long dark hair shields his face from me, but he groans in pain. "What made you think you could steal from me, Francesco?"

Francesco is a young associate under one of my capos. Typically, I would have my capo handle this, but I was feeling a little restless this morning, like there was too much energy running through me. Energy I needed to burn off. I tried letting out some punches on the bag back at the gym I have in my penthouse, but that only increased my adrenaline. So when my capo informed me that one of his associates was getting a little greedy, I decided to take matters into my own hands.

"I-I don't know what you're t-talking about, B-boss. "

How is this guy even an associate? He's weak. I'll be able to break him in no time.

"Okay, Francesco. I see how it's going to go." After pushing myself to my feet, I walk over to the tray of toys I had Rocco set out for me prior to bringing Francesco down here. I pick up the pruning shears and stalk back over to the pathetic excuse of a man who's now dripping blood onto my shiny concrete floors.

I twirl the shears in my hands as I give Francesco a maniacal look, my gaze sharp on his. His eyes widen as they bounce back and forth between me and the shears. "I really didn't want to have to get bloody this early in the morning, but you give me no choice."

Rocco slams his hand on one of Francesco's. It might already be strapped to the metal armrest, but cutting someone's finger off is a nuisance when they're constantly moving.

"No, no, no!" Francesco screeches as he realizes what I'm about to do. "Please, it wasn't me. I promise! I would never steal from you, Matteo! I swear it!"

That's a lie.

He fidgets and struggles to keep eye contact with me, and before he knows what's happened, I slide one blade of the pruning shears underneath his pointer finger, right at the knuckle that's closest to his fingertip, and clamp down. I slice right through the skin and bones, and the blood spurts in multiple directions. His howl bounces off the soundproof walls.

I lift his middle finger, prepared to do the same thing until he cries out, "Stop! Please, stop! I admit it, I admit it! I saved some of the cash!"

There we go.

"Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?" I ask in a condescending tone while Francesco continues to weep in front of me. Pathetic. "What did you need the money for, Francesco?"

He whimpers as he answers, "Drugs."

Ding, ding, ding.

This fucking waste decided to steal from me because he needed money for drugs, something I already had my suspicions of when my capo reached out to me about him. Fucking pathetic.

He groans when I put my weight on his knee to push myself up to my feet. It doesn't help that I took a hammer to the spot before I broke his nose. "See what happens when you're honest with me, Francesco? Now had you been honest with me sooner, it could've saved you from a lot of unnecessary pain."

Rocco releases Francesco's hand and backs away from him, knowing what's going to happen next. I pull the Glock from the waistband of the back of my pants and shoot Francesco in the middle of his forehead. His body goes limp before the smoke from the pistol can dissipate in the air.

I pull my handkerchief out and start wiping off the blood that splattered on my gun. "Clean this up," I say to Rocco. "Dump his body where no one will find it."

He gets to work without a falter in his step. He's one of my best, aside from my brother, that is. But since I've reassigned him to watch Luxtyn, Rocco will need to pick up a lot of the slack.

With it being 8:30 a.m., the club is empty, but Enzo and Luxtyn should be arriving soon, and I need to change before she sees the blood on my shirt, so I head up to my office. It's not something I should care about since this is the life she'll soon be married into, but a part of me still wants to shelter her from the worst of it.

I've changed my pants and am sliding my arms through my fresh white shirt when a pulling sensation comes from the stab wound in my back and sends a small trigger of pain to the surrounding area. It's nowhere near the worst I've had, but it's enough to remind me that my soon-to-be-wife stabbed me.

Someone clearing their throat at my door catches my attention, causing me to turn around and come face-to-face with Luxtyn, whose eyes widen and mouth drops as she takes in my bare torso.

Has she never seen a half-naked man before?

Enzo stands behind her, giving me that stupid ass smirk again. "Did we come at a bad time, Boss?"

"Perfect timing," I grunt out as I button up my shirt while keeping my gaze on Luxtyn who's still rooted in place at my office door. She hasn't looked me in the eye since I turned around, as she kept her eyes on my exposed chest and abs the whole time. It has me grinning like a damn fool.

"I was just taking care of some business," I say, bringing my attention back to Enzo's. "Rocco's downstairs. Why don't you go help him."

Enzo's shit-eating grin gets bigger as he wiggles his brows before stepping back. "Sure thing, Boss."

"Come in and sit." I gesture to the seat across from my desk. Luxtyn finally brings her gaze up to mine, and I give her a knowing smirk.

I know exactly what you've been staring at, Little Lux.

She shuffles into my office and takes the seat opposite me. I study her for a few moments, waiting to see if she'll tell me that Enzo already broke the exciting news to her about being Mancini's daughter, but all she says is, "So. . ."

"So . . ." I repeat.

She fidgets while gazing around my office. There's not much to it. Not even a piece of art on the walls. Enzo and I share this office, as I don't use it often, so we've never done much with it. The dark interior with red accents was his idea. I'm more of a gold guy myself, but the red goes with the theme of the club, so it only made sense.

She finally brings her attention back to me. "Why didn't you wake me up last night when the DNA results came back?"

"You're a heavy sleeper. Impossible to wake up." Leaning back in my chair, I lace my fingers together as I position them over my stomach. I could've woken her up, but she was exhausted, and seeing her lying in bed so innocently did something to me I've been doing my best to bury.

"Well. . . now what happens?"

"That's entirely dependent on you." Kind of. Even if she said no to marrying me, I'd just use her mother to coerce her. She's already proven multiple times that she's her weak spot.

She tilts her head before shaking it. "I don't want to marry you," she says firmly, which makes me laugh. I thought we were past this.

"So you've said," I respond nonchalantly.

She narrows her gaze, and it's the cutest fucking thing I've ever seen. Irritating Luxtyn Stockwell might be my new favorite hobby.

"You think this is funny?" She clenches her jaw. "You're messing with people's lives." Her voice gets louder. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Sitting up, I ground my elbows into the black wooden desk. "You need a favor from me, correct?" She doesn't answer, but it was a rhetorical question, as we both know the answer. "Well, I need a favor from you. Favors go both ways, Little Lux."

She remains silent, the words lingering between us. She's wearing another variation of the same thing she wore yesterday—a sweatshirt and leggings. Her hair's pulled up into a messy bun and still wet from her shower .

I wonder what her body looks like underneath that sweatshirt.

I already know how delicious her curves are in those skintight leggings, but what about those perky tits of hers. What do they look like when they're not being overshadowed by a hoodie?

"Fine, I'll marry you so you can control the stupid port, but as soon as we find my mom, we're getting divorced."

That's cute. She thinks divorce is an option.

I shake my head. "No divorce, sweetheart."

Rolling her eyes at me, she sighs. "Is there something in the contract that says we have to be stuck together for the rest of our lives?"

No, but now that she brings it up, I should've put that verbiage in there.

"If we're not married, then I don't get your father's port. Marriage equals port access. No marriage equals no port access."

"This is fucking ridiculous," Luxtyn spits out as she slams her hands on the edge of the desk. "What if I can convince Angelo to let you have control of the port upon our divorce?"

Shaking my head again, I say, "Nope. That will not do. You want me to help you find your mother, then you're going to have to stay married to me. There is no other option for you, Luxtyn."

"I can just ask Angelo to help me. He's the only one that wants to help me. I don't need you."

"We've gone over this. Angelo is too close to it. Why do you think he asked me to assist him with this?"

She sits there contemplating her options, which shouldn't take long since she has none. "And what if you can't find my mom? Then this arrangement is only beneficial to you."

I see. She's worried I won't hold up my end of the deal. Well, fortunately for her, I'm a man of my word. I already have people combing the streets to see if they can find any intel about a woman who's been taken by Silvestri. "I assure you, I will find your mother. You have my word."

She ponders it for a few more minutes, then her face falls flat for a brief moment before she lifts her chin and looks me square in the eye. "Fine. I'll do it. I'll marry you, Matteo."

A smile of satisfaction forms on my face before we're interrupted by a knock on my door. "Hello, Matteo," says an older gentleman. "Are you ready for me?"

Bringing my attention to the man who's been in my life for as long as I can remember, I say, "Yes. Please come in."

Luxtyn glances over her shoulder before bringing her attention back to me. Her eyebrows are raised and a slight frown forms on her face. "What's going on?" she asks.

"What's going on, my lovely fiancée, is that we're getting married. Right now." I gesture to the older gentleman who's married everyone in our family for the past couple of decades now. "Meet Father Barone. Father Barone, meet my soon-to-be-wife, Luxtyn Stockwell."