Chapter Four

Valentina.

"You have to learn the names of everyone that would attend. Who likes who, who hates who."

The days blurred together in a haze of unfamiliar routines and uneasy silence.

Caterina, true to Maverick words, was always nearby, guiding me through each task like with a strict efficiency even my mom never had. 

She left no room for conversation. 

"Isn't that too much? Who they liked or who they hated? How am I supposed to learn that?" I asked.

She gave no reply. The next day, a large book on the history of the Nevarros was lying beside me, and I had to learn about each member of the family.

By the time the evening of the first event I was supposed to attend with Matteo arrived, I was well grounded on almost everyone in the mafia world.

I was also numb.

It felt easier that way. Like I was an actress playing a role, that this wasn't my life.

However, standing in front of the mirror in my room, dressed in an elegant black gown that hugged my body in all the right places, I understood I could try my best to enjoy what this life offered.

"You look beautiful,  Mrs Nevarro." Caterina said, her voice offering no real comfort.

Another part of the act that made up my life.

"Thank you." I murmured, staring at my reflection.

The woman in the mirror looked familiar, yet I couldn't place my hand on it.

"You must remember." Caterina continued, not bothering to understand the room. "Tonight is not just about appearances. Mr Nevarro expects you to make a good impression."

Everyone must know he made the right choice.

Everyone who never knew who he was supposed to get married to.

I nodded, the weight of her words made my chest tighten. This wasn't just for Matteo anymore. If I was to find Isabella, then I had to make that impression.

"Remember, you're to stay with Mr Nevarro at all time. Do not leave his side. Keep your responses as short and intelligent as you can. Do not speak unless spoken to."

Like she was repeating a script to a child.

But I nodded anyway, and when she was satisfied, she led me out of the room and to the grand staircase where Matteo waited.

Matteo stood in the hallway, looking more devastating than usual in a black tuxedo. With his perfectly wavy hair and clean shaven face, he would have passed for a model on his way to an award show.

A tingle of awareness spread across my skin, mixed with curiosity at the black box in his hands. Small and dainty, tied with a golden bow on top.

I pulled my eyes away from the box and crossed my arms.

Last time I saw you was last week when you and a friend walked to his car. Every single night I wait, and you never show up.

"Nice to see you too." He made a show of everything, and he did nothing.

"Perfect." Matteo's gaze coasted from my hair that was done in waves to my gown, which flowed down my body. Something inscrutable passed through his eyes for a second before it disappeared. 

Perfect.

My dad called me his perfect daughter. And so did my mom.

But not in the way Matteo said it.

“Thank you." I replied, ignoring the way that single word set a thousand butterflies loose in my stomach.

He didn't offer me his arms, and I didn't bother to ask for it. I followed him downstairs, and outside the estate. A beautiful black car was waiting for us outside the doors.

Coupled with a few others at the back.

I settled into the back seat easily, and Matteo slid in next to me, and just like that, we were enclosed in a private world of wine and Italian leather. 

A closed partition laid between the driver and passenger's seat, keeping our conversation private.

"Relax." Matteo flicked his attention towards my shaking fingers. "Most of those old and drunk bastards won't notice you anyway."

I forced a smile, though it felt more like a grimace. "But they would. Mom always told Isa...." I stopped myself. "...dad about how the men couldn't stop leering at her."

"They won't leer at you."

"Because Matteo told them so?"

"Because they'll be dead come morning." The words rang with the confidence of someone who knew what he could do.

No wonder he controlled such a vast group at a young age. He was given a god complex at such a young age.

"Then we should enjoy the ride since we have nothing to worry about."

A stray strand of hair chose that exact moment to slip from my updo and move around my face. Caterina must have forgotten to use hairspray.

My hand froze when Matteo lifted his hand to tuck the strand of hair away behind my ear.

Such a simple movement really, his touch lighter than a caress, but my nipples hardened  at the soft graze of his fingers on my cheek. Sensitive. Begging for an ounce of attention.

I wasn't wearing a bra.

Matteo stilled. His attention on my body's reaction to his touch, and I would have been horrified if I wasn't so distracted by the ache blooming in my core.

"Careful Valentina." His low warning vibrated between my legs. "Or I might show you why I haven't at night."

Images of crumpled sheets and clothes scattered around assaulted my mind.

I swallowed before I could reply. "I never wondered why you haven't come. I'm grateful for it."

A slow, lazy grin tugged at his lips. "Intelligent."

He leaned back and lowered his hand at the same time he received a text on his phone. The streets of Los Angeles whizzed by, but all I could focus on was the warm, possessive weight on my thigh.

Matteo's hand rested on my thigh carelessly like it was the perfect home for his touch, and not something he had planned.

The sight of his strong, tanned hand did nothing to alleviate the pressure I felt in my stomach.

But the longer I stared, the more I felt guilty about the whole situation.

Black silk. Black suit. Cufflinks and an expensive watch that glinted in the dying rays of the sunlight.

The perfect, effortless photo to lure the right person out.

Before I could second guess myself, I raised my phone and snapped a pic.

I snuck a pic at Matteo, whose eyes were still glued to his phone. If he noticed me taking the picture, he didn't say.

Then again, he probably didn't care.

I finally summoned the courage to post when the car stopped in front of our stop.

Night out with my husband. With a little heart emoji by the side.

I felt the heart emoji was too much, but none of the others felt right.

"You ready?" Matteo asked as the driver opened the back door.

I tucked my phone into my purse. Ten seconds, and while my notifications were blowing up, I knew none was from the target audience.

I had a party to attend.

And people to impress.

"I'm ready.”