Page 56 of Shadows of Steel
A small, involuntary smile tugs at my lips. This has Bianca’s touch all over it. I school my expression, reminding myself that attachment is a mistake I can’t afford, but I can acknowledge kindness when I see it. From the moment I stepped foot in this house, she has been nothing but considerate, a rare softness in a world built on sharp edges.
I settle onto the stool, pulling the cappuccino closer and taking a slow sip. The moment of peace lingers for only a short while before the sound of footsteps draws my attention as Mario steps inside. He scans the room out of habit before his gaze settles on me.
He nods in greeting, offering a small but knowing smile. “Buongiorno.”
I lift my coffee in response. “Morning.”
He walks to the espresso machine, pressing a button. “Saw you outside earlier.” He doesn’t phrase it as a question, but there’s something in his tone, weighing the statement.
I take a slow sip. “And?”
His eyes flick to me as he takes a seat across the table, stirring his coffee. “And I noticed you weren’t alone.”
I exhale through my nose, setting my cup down with a quiet clink. “If you’re talking about Dante, I already knew he was watching.”
Mario smirks faintly, but his expression doesn’t quite soften. “I wasn’t talking about Dante. And you’re well aware of it.”
My fingers tighten slightly around the porcelain, but I don’t look away. He doesn’t have to say it. We both know who he means.
“He was a fool who forgot his place,” I say, my voice smooth. “And I don’t concern myself with men who don’t matter.”
Mario takes a slow sip of his coffee. “Men who forget their place tend to have short lifespans.” He speaks as if it’s a simple truth, nothing more than the natural order of things. “The only question is whether a reminder will suffice, or if a more permanent solution is required.”
My nails press into my palm. “I handled it.”
He sets his cup down. “That’s not the point.”
A quiet tension lingers between us, not hostile but not entirely easy either. Mario leans back in his chair, appraising me with an expression that gives nothing away. “You’re sharp,” he says after a brief pause. “You understand how things work. But there’s a difference between taking care of something yourself and having people who make sure you never need to.”
I arch a brow. “Is this your way of suggesting I run to Dante whenever someone tests my patience?”
His lips twitch, the faintest trace of amusement. “No. I’m saying you no longer have to handle everything on your own.” He pauses, head inclining slightly. “Not anymore.”
Something about the words sits heavier than they should. I hold his stare, trying to read between the lines, but Mario is a wall, stoic, impenetrable, and resolute. I don’t thank him. That’s not how men like him operate, and I get the sense that he isn’t looking for gratitude. But there’s something in his expression, that makes it clear, he’s already made his decision. And whether I realize it or not, I might already be under his protection.
He finishes his coffee, pushing back from the table. “Enjoy your breakfast.” He says, nodding toward my plate. Then, without another word, he turns and walks out of the kitchen.
After finishing my meal, I head upstairs, debating whether to throw on a swimsuit and spend some time by the pool. The thought of dipping my toes into cool water and a quiet escape is tempting, but before I can follow through, I remember, Mattiahas practice today. And I promised to take him. Or rather, I insisted he let me.
I go about getting ready for the day, and by the time I’m finished, a quick glance at the clock tells me it’s already late morning, just past noon.
Yet Mattia remains undisturbed, lost in the depths of sleep. I smirk. That boy could let the entire day slip away in bed if given the chance.
Crossing the hall, I knock on his door before pushing it open. He’s sprawled across the mattress, limbs tangled in the sheets, dead to the world.
“Mattia.” I call, stepping closer.
Nothing.
I poke his shoulder. “Wake up, dormiglione.”
He lets out a low groan, barely shifting as he buries his face deeper into the pillow. “Five more minutes.”
“It’s already noon,” I remind him. “You should eat something and get ready, I’m taking you to practice today.”
That catches his attention. His head lifts sluggishly, heavy with sleep, as he blinks up at me. “You’re driving?”
I offer a simple nod. “I am.”
