Page 15 of The Marriage Debt

He's even more dangerous than I thought.

Even my own body is on his side.

8

MATEO

The dining room is already set when I walk in. Lev’s in his chair, legs swinging, talking to the housekeeper like she’s known him his whole life. Lila sits across from him, stirring a cup of tea she hasn’t touched. She doesn’t look up when I enter, but I can feel her register it.

I take the seat at the head of the table, unfold the napkin, and nod once to the staff before they step out and leave the three of us alone.

Lev is mid-story about a nightmare involving pirates and sharks and, somehow, a dragon made of spaghetti. I listen to every word, even if none of it makes sense. He gestures with his fork and talks too fast, like if he pauses, he’ll lose the thread.

Lila doesn’t say much. She just watches him, and sometimes me. Her gaze flicks to mine when she thinks I’m not paying attention. I catch her once. She looks away just as fast.

There’s a stiffness in the air that wasn’t there yesterday. She doesn’t touch her food. Doesn’t ask me anything. Her silence isn’t cold—it’s calculated. Like she’s replaying every second of what happened on the terrace last night and trying to make sense of it without showing it on her face.

She’s not sure what we are now. Neither am I.

Lev looks over at me between bites of toast, his face sticky with jam, hair still wild from sleep. “Can I hold the sword today?” he asks, mouth half-full. “Just for a little bit. I’ll be careful.”

He says it with total seriousness, like he’s asking to help run the estate.

“Yes,” I say without even pausing to think.

Lila’s head lifts sharply, eyes finally cutting toward me for the first time this morning. “No,” she says, just as fast. Her tone doesn’t rise, but it sharpens. “Absolutely not.”

Lev blinks, confused, his mouth still working on the bite of food. “Why not?”

“Because you’re five,” she says, looking at him, not me. “You don’t need to be holding weapons.”

“It’s not sharp if I don’t take it out,” he whines, clearly disappointed but not bold enough to push it further. His legs swing under the chair as he goes quiet again, shoulders a little lower.

I finish what’s left on my plate, but I don’t argue, not with him watching. But Lila feels it—I can tell. The tension between us isn’t loud, but it sits like an elephant in the room. She won’t even look at me after last night. Not after the way she kissed me like she wanted it and hated herself for it in the same breath.

Lev moves on, back to talking about his dream—something about running down a hallway made of candy that turned into a swamp. I listen with little interest as I eat my breakfast—eggs, bacon, a piece of dry toast, a cup of coffee. He gets stuck on the details, hands waving as he tries to explain what kind of monster was chasing him, and I let him go on. I keep my focus on him, even as I feel her watching me again from across the table. She hasn’t touched her tea.

I stand when my plate is clear, adjusting the cuff of my shirt. Lev glances up, cheeks full.

“You leaving?” he asks. There's a bit of apprehension in his eyes, like he's fearful I'm not coming back. It's probably because Anton just left and never came back.

“For work.” Straightening my tie, I look down at his pleading expression.

“Can I come?”

I nod once. “Next time.”

Lila shoots me a look but doesn’t say a word. I know what it means. She doesn’t want him anywhere near "work"—whatever it is in her mind. I don’t care. The boy’s going to learn eventually. Sooner’s better.

I rest my hand on Lev’s shoulder. “Be good.”

He grins, jam on his teeth. “I’m always good.”

I leave the room without saying a word to her.

When the car pulls up, Rafe’s already inside. Alessio rides up front, flipping through messages on his phone, muttering under his breath about internal logs and delayed compliance reports. I don’t ask questions. If it matters, he’ll bring it to me.

By the time we reach the city, traffic’s still light and the street vendors haven’t started setting up. The sun’s barely cleared the rooftops. The café isn’t open yet, lights off inside, door still locked when we pull up. It’s one of ours—quiet, secure, neutral—we’ve used it for years when discretion matters more than walls.

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