Page 95 of Mafia King of Lies

“You are going to die, Giacomo, and when you do, it will be at the mercy of my bullet.” I turn and walk out, my hands still clenched into fists. I feel the eyes follow me as I exit out of the club.

The cool night air does nothing to calm the fury thrumming through my veins. My knuckles ache, the skin split and raw fromthe punch I landed on Giacomo. Not an ounce of satisfaction fills me.

I exhale sharply, running a hand through my hair just as a familiar voice calls out from behind me.

“Matteo.”

I turn to see Valerio standing against my car, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. His gaze flickers to my bruised knuckles before meeting mine. He’s pissed, I can see it but his body remains cool and collected.

“Do you feel better?”

“No.” I walk toward the car. I come to a halt beside him and lean against it too. “The asshole somehow always seems to be two steps ahead every fucking time. He used Emily, Rio. Emily, of all people. He was able to get that close, and I… I couldn’t do anything to stop him. If Ginny hadn’t caught the poison in time… Maria could’ve been gone.”

I didn’t even want to think of what could have happened today.

“I know,” is all he manages to say. Truthfully, there are no words that he can tell me to make any of this better.

“I should have killed him,” I mutter. “I should have pulled the trigger and killed him.”

Valerio exhales, shaking his head. “No, you shouldn’t have.” His voice is steady and holds the control I wish I had. “Not yet. We have a plan in place, and we just need to stick to it. I know it sucks that we have to wait, but patience is a virtue. You taught me that.”

I don’t argue, even though the need to spill blood is still clawing at my insides. He is right, and I am thankful that things didn’t escalate beyond what happened.

“Go home to your wife, Matteo. She’s been calling, asking for you.” He pats my shoulder. “After today of all days, she will need you.”

“She’s awake?”

He nods. “She woke up just after you left and started calling. She’s worried about you. Don’t keep her waiting.”

Crap. I sigh heavily and lean against the car even more. Yet again, I dropped the ball. She isn’t meant to be awake. I don’t want her to see me like this. Knowing her, she will try to take on my burden as her own.

Valerio studies me for a long moment, then tilts his head toward the car. “Go home, Matteo.”

I don’t need to be told twice.

By the timeI step inside the house, the world is quiet again. But that doesn’t mean I am. I walk up the stairs, my body aching in ways that have nothing to do with the fight and everything to do with the rage simmering inside me.

I pass the guards, and they greet me and remain on their posts.

When I push open the bedroom door, I find Maria sitting up in bed, her hazel eyes filled with something I don’t deserve—concern.

“You’re back,” she murmurs, her gaze flickering to my hands. “Valerio told me what you were up to. First off, are you out of your mind? And second, don’t vanish without telling me where you’re going. You hate it when I go rogue, so don’t think you get a free pass to do the same. I’m your wife, you need to tell me these things.”

I exhale slowly, shutting the door behind me. “I’m sorry.”

The apology has a double meaning. I am apologizing for what I did and leaving her after the kind of day she endured. But Iam also seeking forgiveness for other things I fear she may never look past.

I sit on the edge of the bed, flexing my fingers, wincing at the pain shooting through them. Maria reaches for my hand carefully, her touch hesitant but gentle.

“You’re hurt,” she whispers.

“It’s nothing.”

“If you’re bleeding, then it’s not nothing. Let me see.”

I watch as she studies the bruises, her fingers lightly tracing over the broken skin. She is soft, and her touch seems to offer me comfort that leaves my heart feeling warm. She creates this safe bubble where I am free to take off the armor I wear for the rest of the world.

She makes me feel safe and vulnerable. She makes it okay for me to let her see the things that pain me.

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