Ruthless Monarch

31

Viviana

* * *

I’m taken aback by his words, but most of all, I’m shocked by how willingly I offer to help him.

He hasn’t even told me what anything entails, but I don’t even care.

I’m all in.

I’ll do anything for Matteo.

The thought is eye-opening to me.

I’m not sure when it happened, but somewhere in the last two months, I began to feel a connection to him. A loyalty to him that I’ve never felt for anyone else. Of course, I feel a loyalty to Julia, but this is different. This feels different.

I’m not ready to put a word to how this feels. I’m still too scared to admit that what is going on here is more than I ever thought would, and I’m too worried something will go wrong.

“Are you sure? Because once you agree, I’m going to start telling you things that I probably shouldn’t, and if you ever go against me—”

I lift my hand, knowing full well there’s a threat coming next. I would never go against him. He doesn’t need to tell me he will kill me because regardless, even if that’s the consequence, I wouldn’t do it.

“I won’t.”

“I know you won’t, which is why I’m telling you this.”

“Do you think we should wait until we’re home?”

“There aren’t many details. When we have more details, we’ll talk about it at home. For now, I want you to speak to your father. I want you to make him think that you are agreeing with his plan. I want you to feed him false information.”

His plan is not that different than my original plan. Originally, I had hoped to use Matteo as a means of taking down my father, and now he is offering me the same.

I lean closer to him.

“When I first agreed to marry you,” I say, “I was hoping you could help me with my problem.”

“And what problem is that, per se?”

“Like you, my problem is my father.”

At the mention of my father, Matteo’s jaw tightens. “I’m listening.”

“He’s able to control me.”

“Okay.”

“And I don’t want him to anymore.”

He stares at me for a minute before his features soften. “Do you want to tell me so I can help you . . .?”

Tears start to fill my eyes. But I refuse to ruin our night.

“Not today.”

He nods in agreement.

“Soon, though,” I say.

“Tell me about what you like to read.”

“Besides fairy tales?”

Matteo laughs. “Besides them.” He smiles at me. “Do you like any other genres?”

“I like all of them. You have to understand that growing up in the family that I grew up in, that’s all I had.”

“Tell me about your family.”

“My mother has always been the woman you met, a sad and lonely woman chasing love, who drank too much. My father has resented me since the day I was born.”

“Why do you say that?”

“As I told you once before, I don’t think he ever wanted me. He knew politically, though, for his aspirations, he had to be a family man. And in public, he’s the perfect husband, the perfect family man, but when the doors close, he’s anything but.”

“Did he hurt you?”

“Physically?”

He nods.

“Not really. Emotionally . . . yes.”

“What did he do?”

“Emotional blackmail. Everything had a price. Some more steep than others.”

Matteo leans forward and swipes away a lone tear that must have slipped out.

“So remember when I told you how my parents never got me a puppy . . .”

“Yeah.”

“There was more to the story. I didn’t tell you all of it.”

“You can tell me now.”

“One year, after I had stopped dreaming and hoping for a dog, my mother bought a puppy for me. I was supposed to be well behaved all the time, but it turns out that was hard for me to do. Apparently it was hard for me to not talk back and act like a proper young lady.”

Matteo laughs. “I never realized,” he deadpans, and I roll my eyes.

“Well, I embarrassed him. And when I came home, the price was obvious.”

“What happened?”

“He gave the puppy back to the dog shelter.”

“That’s awful.”

“It was, but I was happy that the puppy wasn’t hurt. Later, I found out my nanny, Ana, heard what happened and had a friend of hers adopt the puppy. Ana used to bring me pictures.”

Another tear falls, but this wasn’t for the dog. This one is for Ana.

“Look at me. I’m a mess. Here you are, taking me to this amazing restaurant, and I’m ruining it. Quick, tell me something, anything, so I take my mind off the past.”

“This place used to be used during Prohibition to store bootleg booze,” he says, gesturing around the restaurant. The bottom floor is an old cellar.”

I lean forward in my chair, elbows on the table. “That’s so cool.”

“Isn’t it?”

“I’d love to see it.”

“After dinner.”

I nod, excited about the prospect of seeing something like that.

We never order. Instead, Marco tells us he will bring us all the house specials. And like the other places we have visited, Matteo never has to pay.