Page 41 of Doll Face

“Ah,” she said, switching to English. “Thank you for coming all the way to Italy to pay your respects. My name, however, is Novelly.”

“Ah, that’s right. Gianna Novelly.” Pietro looked around as others gathered in the mausoleum. “This is my son, Matteo.”

She took a deep, fortifying breath, and then looked at the man who had shattered her heart, glad that the veil obscured her features. Matteo gave an incline of his head as a greeting.

It angered her that he was still devilishly handsome. Nothing had really changed, except for his dark eyes. They were cold. Lifeless. The eyes of a killer. Even after three years, the nightmares still roused her from sleep. Sometimes she was once more in that basement with Pietro. Sometimes it was Matteo holding the gun in her face. Hatred for how he broke her threatened to overwhelm her, as well as the hatred of how he still made her feel fear.

“Piacere di conoscerti,” she said, and then switched once more to English. “Nice to meet you.”

Pietro took another step closer and she tensed. Caelian also took a step forward, ready to protect her with his life.

“Your grandmother and I were finalizing arrangements for a union.”

“This is neither the time or the place for this conversation.”

“All right,” Pietro said. “When?”

She pretended to think it over. “Tomorrow. Come to my villa for brunch.”

“Very good,” Pietro said, beaming, until he realized that wasn’t the proper look at a funeral.

Gianna turned away from them and made her way to the chairs set up for the final blessing. Songs were sung, blessings of a life well lived were read, but Gianna couldn’t partake in any of it. Everything fell away as she stared at Orianna’s casket. Seeing the rectangular box sliding into its final resting spot made her tears fall once more.

Then the service concluded, and Caelian helped her to her feet. People came to give their condolences, until all she wanted to do was scream. Finally, fucking finally, it was over. She walked up to the tomb and touched the shiny new plaque, tracing over the letters.

“Arrivederci per ora, nonna. Finché non ti incontrerò in paradiso,” she whispered. “I love you.”

She turned and that’s when she saw Matteo Romanelli waiting by the entrance, staring at her. Taking a deep breath, she walked towards him, aware of Caelian behind her.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Matteo said.

“Thank you,” she replied stiffly. How dare he intrude on my grief!

“My father knew her for years. Said she was a smart and wonderful woman.”

That’s not how Orianna described it, but she let Matteo think it. What did it matter? “She taught me everything I know.”

“You must have loved her very much.”

“Yes,” she said, waiting. He didn’t stay behind to give condolences.

Matteo flicked his gaze at Caelian. “Can we talk for a moment?”

She wanted to yell no. Didn’t want anything to do with him, but that wasn’t the plan. She was going to have to swallow down her disgust. She looked over her shoulder to Caelian and gave a small nod, letting him know she would be all right.

Matteo waited until they had a modicum of privacy. “You know you don’t have to agree to the contract your grandmother made with my father.”

She frowned, studying his face. Why did he say that? “You mean our union.”

“Yeah,” he replied. “That. I know you don’t want to marry me and I don’t want to marry anyone.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Want to be foot loose and fancy free?”

“That’s not it.”

“Then how is it? I mean, I know who you are. Who your father is. You think he’s just going to be okay with you having your own life? Choosing your own bride?” She shook her head. “Don’t be foolish.”

Anger simmered in his dark eyes. “If you think my father doesn’t have an agenda, then you’re the foolish one.”

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