Page 93 of Matteo
Every so often, when we’d lapse into silence like this, I was reminded of the pain from earlier, and the emotions would crash into me. It was so unfair that I was even in this position. Matteo didn’t deserve my tears. He didn’t deserveme.
“I posted our photo on my Instagram,” Cassius said, breaking through my pity party. “The caption matches the writing on our shirts, and I tagged Matteo. Do you think he’ll know we plan on killing him?”
“He’ll certainly get the message now,” Dominico noted coolly.
I rolled my eyes. “Nobody’s doing any killing.”
“Listen, sis, I didn’t buy this God-awful shirt from that park vendor for nothing,” Cassius grumbled. “I thought you were going shopping.”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t be a fucking snob. We shopped, didn’t we?”
Cassius shook his head. “Well, yes. The Converse store was okay, but park vendors… I have my reputation to uphold.”
I flipped him off, although it fell flat. I felt like shit.
“What happened, Arianna?” Cassius asked, and my eyes widened. Just when I’d thought I was in the clear. “Don’t tell me you were surprised to hear about Hannah’s engagement?”
Yes, it fucking surprised me that she got engaged to the man I’d been sleeping with for the past week. But I couldn’t—wouldn’t—admit that to my brothers. Matteo would probably end up with a lot more than a bloody nose.
“Are you worried you’ll have to share him?” Dominico asked. “It often happens that Cassius and I fall for the same girl, but we share?—”
“TMI. TMI. TMI. Dammit, Dominico, there are some things I really don’t need to know.”
They chuckled, clearly unfazed. “Mom always taught us that sharing is caring.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re sick.”
I loved my sister, but I couldn’t bear the thought of sharing a man I loved with her. Yet, the thought of breaking her heart seemed even worse.
So as I slid off the hood of my Jeep, I knew there was only one solution to this mess.
“Let’s go back to the Vitale manor.”
I’d accept this engagement and move on.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
MATTEO
The party was still in full swing, guests chattering and gossiping about what they’d witnessed while I nurtured my bloody nose in the library.
Once I corrected this motherfucking mistake, there’d be a lot more whispers and stares coming our way.
I’d been laying into my pa, about to explain that he arranged a marriage to the wrong goddamned sister, when I caught Nikola and Ari from the corner of my eye.
When I saw him touching her hand, the very same that was wrapped around my cock earlier today, fury unlike any I’d ever experienced before grabbed hold of me. I wanted to murder my best friend, to let his blood stain my mother’s marble floors as a warning to any other fucker who even thought of touching her.
I didn’t even know how I found myself standing behind her, but then I heard the motherfucker mention marriage and something in my brain short-circuited.
He was lucky I didn’t fucking murder him right then and there.
The fucking audacity.
The image of him touching her sent a new wave of rage through me and I forced myself to inhale a breath, pushing red mist out of my head.
It was exactly how I found myself in the library, trying to cool off. I knew one wrong word could send me flying off the handle, all because of the look I’d seen on the girl I’d been in love with for fucking decades. The lookIput there.
I should have never followed the protocol of going through my pa. I should have gone and asked for her hand myself.
