Page 60 of His to Honor

Isabella shrugs. “He helped me deal with a horrible situation.”

Matteo told me what happened with Rico Mancini, but I don’t tell Isabella that. If she wants to confide in me about killing the man who attacked her, she can do it in her own time.

“And?” I prompt.

“And I realized despite everything, I still love him. I don’t know if I’ve entirely forgiven him for sending me away, but the good in him outweighs the bad. I can’t imagine life without him.”

I guess that’s what I have to decide. Can I picture a future that doesn’t involve Matteo?

CHAPTER 19

Matteo

It’s almost midnight by the time I get to my brother Alessandro’s place on the Upper East Side. I called him from the plane and asked him to obtain some papers for me, but that’s not the only reason I’m here. The thought of going home to an empty apartment after the shitty twenty-four hours I’ve just had was unbearable. I need to be with family and Alessandro was the best option.

I didn’t want to go to Antonio. He’s been bombarding me with messages that make it clear I’m on his shit list. He’s even more pissed now than he was when I decided to stay in Italy longer than he expected. The last thing I need right now is an in-person lecture about my responsibility to the family. Besides, I don’t want to see Isabella. She’ll be disappointed in me for wrecking things with Giulia.

I could have gone to Leo, but he’d show zero sympathy for my predicament and I don’t need anyone to tell me I’m a grade-A asshole. His firecracker wife, Vinnie, would have been right byhis side, getting her jabs in. I admire her refusal to put up with bullshit, but not when I’m on the receiving end of her sharp tongue.

Going to my mother’s house wasn’t a possibility either. She’ll be devastated by how badly I’ve fucked things up with Giulia. Anyway, she has a lot on her plate with my younger brother Gio being a dick about time out from the family. So, being the least likely to ride my ass about the situation I’m in, Alessandro is the lucky bastard who gets to watch me drown in self-pity.

When his front door swings open, it’s his wife, Emilia, who greets me. The gorgeous Italian brunette tilts her head to one side and casts an appraising look over me. She purses her lips in what might equally be disapproval or concern. I guess I’m a mess. Though I showered and changed my clothes after torturing the assholes who dared to attack my wedding, I didn’t take care over my appearance. I’m wearing sweatpants, a ratty old t-shirt, and sneakers. My hair is unkempt and patches of stubble cover my jaw.

The moment I learned that fucker Reznov had put my wife on a plane to New York instead of taking her back to the villa like I asked, I headed straight for the airport. Damiano got me onto the only available flight and stuck me in coach. There was nothing to do but stew over my fuck-ups because sleeping with so many strangers around me was impossible.

Reznov is damned lucky Damiano got me out of the villa when he did. I wanted to shove my knife into his cold, unfeeling heart as he stood there and calmly told me what he’d done. My cousins got between us and my sister reminded me that the Reznov Bratva are our allies and their Pakhan is about to marry my mother. Thankfully, the long plane ride gave me time to think,and I realized all the blame for Giulia running belongs on my shoulders.

“My poor Matteo!” Emilia throws her arms around my neck and pulls me into a hug. When she releases me, I feel bereft and I realize she’s the real reason I came here. Her warmth is exactly what I need right now. “You look…” She waves her hand around as she tries to find the right word.

My brother has no such difficulty expressing himself as he joins us at the door. “He looks like shit.”

“Yeah, I could use some sleep.”

“And a shower. You smell like a raccoon crawled up your ass and died.” Alessandro grins, obviously pleased with his juvenile insult. “Well, quit hovering in the doorway.”

He puts his arm around his wife’s waist and steers her away from the door. Shutting the door behind me, I follow them into the living room. When Alessandro lived here alone, my sister used to complain that it looked like a sex club with its black furniture and dark walls. I’m guessing she got that idea from books or movies because I’m pretty sure, despite her nude photo scandal, she’s never set foot in such a place.

Alessandro’s home has been completely transformed since Emilia moved in. Everything is brighter. The sofa is a cream color. There are throw pillows on it and the armchairs are in various shades of blue. The floor is carpeted now, so it’s softer underfoot. A wave of jealousy goes through me. I want Giulia in my home, making it cozy for us. The thought I might have fucked that up forever causes an unfamiliar burning behind my eyes. Shit! Am I about to cry over fucking soft furnishings?

While Alessandro and Emilia sit next to each other on the sofa, I quickly pull myself together and drop into the armchair.

“You got the papers I asked for?” I nod toward the brown envelope on the coffee table.

“Yeah.” Alessandro puts his arm around Emilia’s shoulder and pulls her closer. “You sure it’s what you want?”

To annul my marriage after less than a day? No, it’s not what I want, but if I’m going to have any chance of salvaging any sort of relationship with Giulia, I have to try to undo the damage I did by forcing her into marriage.

“It’s not about what I want.”

“You’re a good man,” Emilia says.

As welcome as her reassurance is, I can’t agree. “The last couple of days prove otherwise.”

Emilia smiles sadly. “You can still fix it. Alessandro and I didn’t have the best start and we’re happy now.”

As my brother squeezes her shoulder, exhaustion crashes over me, bringing with it a deep sense of sadness. I can’t sit here witnessing the obvious love my brother and his wife have for one another. Though I can’t stand being near them, I don’t want to leave either. “Can I crash here?”

“You know where the guest rooms are,” Alessandro says as I get to my feet.

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