Chapter Thirteen.

Matteo.

The moment I stepped into the shooting range, my blood turned to ice.

Luca was standing behind Isabella, his hands on hers, guiding her grip on the gun. She was too close—closer than she had any right to be. And to make matters worse, Enzo was smirking like he was enjoying the damn show.

Something dark and ugly coiled in my chest. Jealousy? No. It couldn’t be. I didn’t get jealous. Not over a woman. Not even over her.

Yet, my fists clenched at my sides, and my vision blurred at the edges. She was mine. Whether she liked it or not, whether I liked it or not. And I sure as hell didn’t like seeing another man’s hands on what belonged to me.

I didn't even know when I lashed out at her for letting Luca train her.

My reason for saying lashing out was as ridiculous as me being jealous of the blond faced fucker.

I'll have a chat with Enzo later for letting Luca near the training grounds.

Isabella didn’t look intimidated. If anything, she looked annoyed. “What the hell is your problem?” she demanded, folding her arms.

"You bathe in to the training ground, abruptly stop my training for God knows what, they you take me out here for what exactly?"

I ignored her question, taking slow, deliberate steps toward her. “Do you enjoy being touched by other men?”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You’re being ridiculous.”

I stopped right in front of her, towering over her small frame. “Answer me.”

Her brown eyes flashed with defiance. “And if I do?”

A sharp, possessive anger clawed at my insides. I reached out, my fingers brushing her chin, tilting her face up to mine. “You forget, Isabella—you’re a married woman.”

She let out a dry laugh, stepping back, breaking my hold. “Oh? Now my marriage matters to you?”

I didn’t like the mocking edge in her voice. “I don’t like my things being touched by others.”

Her expression darkened. “Your things?”

I held her gaze, refusing to back down. “Yes.”

She shook her head, disgust flashing across her features. “You’re unbelievable. Just a few days ago, you reminded me this was just a contract. That our marriage meant nothing. And now, suddenly, you want to play the jealous husband?”

I clenched my jaw. “That doesn’t mean I’ll tolerate disrespect.”

She exhaled sharply. “Right. Because Luca holding my hands is somehow disrespectful to you.”

“It is.”

She let out a humorless laugh before turning on her heel. “You’re impossible, Matteo, Luca is my friend, he was my friend before I even met your arrogant ass, and if you think that'll end because of some stupid masculine ego you have, then you have never been more mistaken."

I watched her walk away, the air between us thick with tension.

She didn’t look back, didn’t hesitate, just kept walking until she disappeared through the doors. And even then, I couldn’t shake the weight of her words.

She was right.

But I didn’t care.

The night of the event arrived faster than I wanted.

The mission was simple. A gathering of mafia families under the pretense of diplomacy. But we all knew what these meetings really were—a stage for betrayals, power shifts, and, in this case, an assassination.

My target was Antonio Ricci, a traitor who had aligned himself with my enemies.

I was adjusting my cufflinks when Isabella stormed into the room.

How the hell does she does that?

“I want to go with you.”

I barely spared her a glance. “No.”

She huffed, stepping closer. “Why not?”

“Because it’s dangerous.”

She let out an exasperated sigh. “You don’t get to lock me up, Matteo. I want to go.”

I met her gaze. “And I said no.”

Frustration burned in her eyes. “You drag me into this world, force me into this marriage, and now you want to keep me caged? I can handle myself."

I studied her for a long moment. She wasn’t going to back down. And if I didn’t take her, she’d probably find a way to follow me anyway.

"For you information tesero, I didn't force you, your father did. And you've been in this world since you were a kid, so don't fucking act like a damsel in distress."

She looked at me with those eyes of her, it felt like she was staring into my soul.

I exhaled. “Fine.”

I grumbled.

She blinked. “Fine?”

I straightened my jacket. “Yes. But you follow my lead. No questions, no reckless moves, you'll stay behind me, and never leave my fucking side, understand?"

She nodded quickly. “Understood.”

I should’ve refused her. I should’ve kept her locked away.

Away from me and my life, this marriage is not supposed to be anything more than what it is, a ploy to get my revenge.

I am not supposed to be playing power couple with her, he'll I am not supposed to let her anywhere near me.

But deep down, I wanted her with me.

Fuck, I wanted her under me, I need to get my head out of my dick.

The drive to the event was silent. She sat beside me in the backseat, dressed in a sleek black gown, her hair falling in waves around her shoulders. She looked stunning. And I hated that I noticed.

I glanced at her, catching the way she stared out the window, lost in thought. “You can still back out.”

She turned to me, lifting a brow. “Are you?”

I smirked. “Not a chance darling, this is my job."

She mirrored my expression. “Then neither am I.”

We got to the event.

We steps out of the car, I glanced at Isabella and she looked fucking regal in black. Like a true Mafia queen.

A dangerous thrill shot through me. She was walking into my world, willingly. And whether she realized it or not, there was no turning back now.