Page 65 of Shot For Mercy

I look over at Emiliano, confused, but he doesn’t look at me. Not for one second. He keeps his gaze trained on Matteo. “Cole,” Emiliano says through gritted teeth. “Go to our room. I have to talk to my son.”

Matteo flinches at the mention ofourroom, and another tear falls down my cheek. I fucked this all the way up, didn’t I? He’s never going to forgive me now. Fuck. I can’t even blame him.

I do as I’m told, going to the bedroom, but not shutting the door all the way. Instead, I sit against the wall next to the door and try to listen in. If they’re not going to tell me what they’re talking about, then I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.

Hopefully, Emiliano doesn’t kill me for it.

Cole thinks I don’t know that he didn’t close the door, but I’m plenty aware. I’m letting him have this, though. Maybe it makes me a coward to let him listen in instead of facing him and telling him myself, but I just don’t have it in me to do it. It’s bad enough that I have to tell Matteo. He’s going to hate me even more than he does now, and Cole might just jump on that bandwagon, too. Neither of them will be okay after this, I’m sure of it. I just hope that Cole’s promises of forever stick or I’ll have to chain him to the fucking bed and not let him leave. Matteo, on the other hand, might be more difficult to convince. He has a fucking back bone now, and he already hates me. So what’s a little more hate, anyway? He’s already never coming back.

“What did you want to talk about?” Matteo asks through gritted teeth. “I want to go home.”

“And where is that, anyway?” I ask him calmly.

“Oh, you don’t know?” Matteo chuckles. “I find that hard to believe.”

“I have been letting you have the space that you need.” I sigh, and Matteo grits his teeth. “But I do have one question.”

“What?” Matteo growls.

“Will you be coming back to work?” I ask him, “I’m giving you an extended leave of absence, but I do need my assistant.”

“Cole can be your assistant,” he snaps.

“I don’t want Cole to be my assistant.” Matteo’s eyes flash at my words, and I see anger in them. But I also see pain—lots of it. “I want you.”

“Too bad.” Matteo shakes his head. “So fucking sad.”

“What are you, five?” I snap back. “Be serious.”

“Be fucking for real, Dad.” Matteo’s eyes narrow, and his nostrils flare with anger. “I don’t think I’ll be going back. But I’ll let you know if I change my mind.”

“And how long will you make me wait?”

“However long it fucking takes.”

I deserve that. I know I do. It still makes me livid. How dare he talk to me like that? But I also have to understand he’s not talking to the Don right now. He’s talking to his dad. And as his dad, I need to try to be understanding. I broke his heart. I shattered it. I can’t expect to be forgiven this quickly and without putting in the work.

“How about we meet once a week for dinner, just you and I?” I ask him slowly. “We can work this out.”

“Absolutely not.”

“What about therapy?” I ask him, and his eyes widen. “We can go to family therapy once a week.”

“You’d do that?” His eyebrows clash as he frowns, but he recovers quickly.

“I’d do anything for you,” I reply, but it sounds like a lie.

“Leave him.” Matteo’s bottom lip trembles. “Leave him and I’ll come home.”

“I can’t.” My voice breaks. “I love him. He’s going to be my husband.”

Matteo’s eyes widen. “It’s been five fucking minutes, Dad! You can’t be serious.”

“I’m always serious.” I run a hand down my face in frustration, and he watches me silently. “Come to therapy with me. We can fix this.”

Matteo shakes his head. “I highly doubt that.”

“We won’t know until we try,” I say with exasperation. I know why he’s holding back, why he won’t agree to it. But fuck, I’m trying. I want to do this—need to do this. I don’t want to lose him.

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