Page 60 of The Lies We Tell

“I have better things to do than rifle through your shit. It’s one file. I can see it on the corner of your desk. Or I would be able to see it if you didn’t seal your office up like some priceless tomb every time you left. A tomb only Maeve has the code to.”

“I’ll be home tonight. I’ll get it for you tomorrow.”

“Unbelievable,” Luca said, ending the call.

Matteo dropped his phone on the table with a scowl. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his brother. That wasn’t it at all. It was that he was allowed a modicum of privacy. Privacy he couldn't maintain if everyone who wanted it had the keys and codes to his personal spaces.

“Everything okay?”

He glanced at Tessa’s raised brows, shaking his head. “Just Luca throwing a hissy fit because I won’t give him the code for my office.”

“Why not?”

“Because.” He found he didn’t have a better answer when faced with her direct gaze, and he was grateful for the interruption of the waiter bringing their food.

“Because?” she prompted, dipping her spoon into her bowl of soup.

“Because I’ll be back tomorrow, and I’ll get it then.”

He was aware of the defensiveness in his tone, and he hated it. He did not need to explain his choices. Not to his family, and not to Tessa.

“I thought all the locked doors were for me,” she said softly. “Not them. Why are you so intent on shutting them out?”

Matteo dropped his spoon to the table with a clatter. “Jesus Christ. Now you sound just like them. I’m not shutting anyone out. Seven years of being on my own. No, scratch that. A lifetime of it. As if my father cared about my reasoning for anything. He taught me the Don’s word was law. If only my brothers and sister respected that.”

Tessa studied him, popping a piece of bread in her mouth and chewing slowly. “And your father was a good man? A well-respected leader?”

Surprised by her questions, Matteo jerked. “No. I definitely wouldn’t say that.”

“Then why do you want to be just like him?”

Matteo opened his mouth, then closed it again. Rule with an iron fist, or they’ll walk all over your back, son. Lorenzo had drilled that lesson into him for as long as he could remember. His father kept everyone at arm’s length, including his children.

He refused to justify himself to anyone. He saw it as a weakness. And Lorenzo Bianchi could not tolerate even the perception of weakness.

“What’s the point of winning the war if you all hate each other?” Tessa asked. “Believe me when I say it’s a miserable existence. Being hated by people who are supposed to love you. Especially when you care.”

“Who says I care?”

“Please.” Tessa waved a dismissive hand in the air and spooned up another bite of soup. “If you didn’t care what they thought about you, it wouldn’t bother you so much.”

He pursed his lips, staring down at his own soup before leaning back in his chair with a huff. Of course he cared about his family. Everything he was doing was for them. To make sure they avoided the cliff their father had been careening them toward. To preserve the family legacy for future generations.

The power and money and status and connections he was amassing weren’t for himself. It was for every generation of Bianchis that would come after him. He wanted people to whisper Bianchi in international circles with the same reverence they whispered Callahan or Quinn or Verdugo. He wanted permanence for the Bianchi name long after he was gone.

“I don't know how to undo it all,” he confessed quietly. “They’re so angry at me for leaving all those years ago.”

“Maybe you don’t have to undo it. Maybe you can just move forward. They want what you want.”

He raised a brow. “And how would you know that?”

“It seems pretty obvious to me. Your goals are the same. Maybe the reason your father’s methods aren’t working for you is because they didn’t work for him either.”

“How the fuck did you get so wise?”

Tessa chuckled. “A lifetime of wishing for my father to love me instead of hate me.”

Lacing their fingers together, Matteo drew her into his lap, tucking her hair behind her ears and cupping her chin in his hand. He pressed a lingering kiss to her lips, wrapping an arm around her waist when she let out a satisfied little sigh.

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