Page 92 of Matteo
“Yes, I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding and the kids will work it out,” Mrs. Vitale stated, then studied her son and me. “You two go into Luciano’s office, take a moment alone to work it out, and?—”
“No,” I cut in and everyone’s eyes turned to me. “Leave me alone with him and I’ll kill him.”
Nikola whistled. I whirled around and stormed out of the room, running straight into a broad, hard chest.
I lifted my eyes, up and up, and met the familiar pale blue eyes. The Nikolaevs were here.
“Hey, dollface,” Sasha Nikolaev greeted me. He was the cheerful one while his two brothers looked too brooding and serious. “What did we miss?”
I glanced at his wife, Branka, then Nikola’s parents—Vasili and Isabella Nikolaev—before looking at Alexei and his wife.
“You okay?” Alexei asked, and despite his arctic tone and cold eyes, I always found safety in them. “Or do I have to kill someone? Just say the word and Uncle Alexei will get it done.”
“I’m fine,” I lied. I’d called him uncle when we were small, but now it felt wrong to be so familiar with him.
“And you didn’t miss much. Engagement announcement and a broken nose,” I answered, glancing over my shoulder. “Oh, and Matteo hit Nikola.”
Was it petty? Yes, but it would buy me some time, because I could already see Matteo heading for me, his parents trying—and failing—to hold him back. “Don’t let Matteo catch up to me or he’ll have a lot more than a broken nose.”
I sidestepped the family and ran out of the house. Breeze in my hair, pushing the silk of my Valentino dress against my heated skin, I could hear my parents’ frantic voices as they tried to catch up to me.
But I was already in my Jeep, my tires screeching against the pavement.
I took a sharp turn toward the heart of the city when a grunt from the back had me looking in the rearview mirror. My brothers’ dark heads peered from the cargo area and I felt like banging my head against the wheel.
“What are you two doing here?” I hissed.
They climbed over the headrest and slid into the back seat with grace.
“Knew you’d be taking off,” Cassius declared as he settled into the seat, tugging on his sleeves like he was a sophisticated gentleman, not someone who’d just hidden in the back footwell of my Jeep.
“And we knew you’d need company,” Dominico added.
I groaned.
“You’re wrong. I don’t want company and I’m not taking off. Just—” I searched for a good excuse and settled for a lie. “Just going shopping.”
My brothers shared a glance, then Cassius said, “Coincidently, we need to do some shopping too.”
“This family has no respect for boundaries,” I muttered, pressing my foot on the pedal and watching the Vitale residence shrink with every passing second. “Ever heard of the concept of personal space?”
“Overrated,” Dominico stated, sliding into the front passenger seat.
“Until you desperately need it,” I mumbled.
Cassius leaned over the center console and pecked my cheek. “Nah, that’s not what you need. Not today at least.”
“I know a place that overlooks the river we can hit afterward,” Dominico stated. “It’s romantic.”
I shot him a look. “And you think I’d want to go there with you?”
He shrugged. “There’s a good ice cream truck nearby. They have a Nutella flavor.”
“Okay, whatever.”
Two hours later, the three of us sat on the hood of my military-green Jeep, wearing jeans and white T-shirts that when we sat together saidBang… Bang… Mudafuka. Yes, I was the one with the last word and we even commemorated the moment, taking a selfie, ensuring to capture our ice cream and the writing on the shirts.
The music from my speakers was the only thing to interrupt the constant cityscape.
