I don’t tell Matteo about the ridiculous gossip Chloe has brought to my attention. I’m not trying to bury my head in the sand, but I think Chloe has watched The Godfather one too many times. Or maybe she’s read too many mafia novels with far-fetched plotlines.
I’ve toyed with asking him the questions buzzing around in my brain, but I haven’t seen much of Matteo since last weekend. I’ve been overloaded with coursework and volunteering. And Matteo isn’t home during the day or evenings. His hands are full with the restaurants.
And Covet.
The only real time we spend together is when he slips into my bed around two in the morning. Waking up with him next to me is the best feeling in the world. And the way it feels when he’s buried deep inside my body is even better. When we come together, the chemistry that flares to life between us is undeniable.
Without tangible evidence regarding the concerns Chloe voiced, I can’t confront Matteo. He’s finally starting to open up to me. I can’t fling far-fetched accusations at him about his family. That will only shut him down.
I need someone else’s opinion on the matter. Which is why I ask Jonathan to take a walk when we have a much needed fifteen-minute break between tours.
Jonathan and I have become fast friends over the past few weeks. Right from the start, it felt as if I’d known him for years. Which is unusual for me since I don’t normally click with people so quickly.
He invited me to his house to meet Jamie, whom I adore. The two of them are so good together. Jamie is quieter and more reserved, but warm and caring. He allows Jonathan to soak up all the attention while watching from the sidelines. They balance each another out perfectly, and I love spending time with them.
As busy as life is, I still lie awake at night thinking about what Chloe divulged. I listen to the sound of Matteo breathing next to me, asking myself if any of the allegations could be true. I’ve done a few internet searches, but found nothing damning. Just innuendo. Gossip. Mostly the same rumors Chloe brought to my attention in the first place. It does nothing to lend credence to all the speculation. Which means I’m in the same place as before.
“What did you want to talk about, doll face?”
I smile at the term of endearment as Jonathan slings a wiry arm around my waist and tugs me closer. The wind whips off the lake, blowing over us.
Stalling, I ask teasingly, “How do you know that I want to talk? Maybe I just wanted to spend a little time alone with you.”
He rolls his eyes. “Undoubtedly. But I can tell there’s something on your mind. You’ve been a bit preoccupied lately.”
Pushing away, I search his face. “You could really tell?”
His normally humor-filled eyes brim with concern. “I see it because I know you.”
I nibble at my lower lip. I love volunteering at the museum, and I love leading guided tours. It bothers me that I haven’t been giving one hundred percent to the people who come in to learn more about the art currently on display. I don’t want to appear unprofessional by allowing my personal life to interfere with my professional one.
Jonathan tugs me back into the warm comfort of his arms. Because we’ve gotten to be so close, he knows what I’m thinking.
“No one else has noticed. Don’t give it a second thought. Now tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours. We’ve got roughly ten minutes until we need to head back inside for our next tours. So spill. Tell Uncle Johnny all about what’s bothering you.”
I laugh. “Uncle Johnny? That makes you sound like a pedophile.”
He sighs dramatically. “Come on. Tick-tock. I’ll need at least ten minutes to give you my best armchair analysis of the situation.”
He’s right. I’m procrastinating. Maybe I don’t want to give voice to the ugly whispers that have been filling my head. Maybe I’m afraid that Jonathan will confirm everything Chloe said. If that ends up happening, I’ll have no choice but to pop the bubble Matteo and I are living in by bringing it up to him.
I hedge, “You know the man I’ve been seeing…”
“Umm-hmm.” He drawls out the sound.
“I told you that his name was Matteo.” I pause for a moment as my heart pounds. “Matteo Valentini.”
Jonathan doesn’t say a word, but every muscle in his body goes whipcord tight. A deafening silence fills the void between us. I realize that what I’ve refused to believe- all the rumors, the online innuendo- is true. Matteo isn’t simply a restaurateur and nightclub owner. Or someone who owns commercial real estate.
We keep walking, but Jonathan’s body remains stiff. The longer the uncomfortable silence stretches between us, the more I panic.
“Jonathan,” I whisper, “say something.”
He stops and turns to me. His face has lost most of its color. “I didn’t realize that’s who he was.” Heaving a breath, he mutters to himself, “I should have.”
Though I dismissed Chloe when she voiced her concerns the other day, it’s more difficult to do after a second person reacts similarly. “My friend thinks that his family is part of the mafia.”
He laughs, but there’s no humor in the sound. Which is odd because Jonathan is always laughing. Always happy. Always cracking jokes. The man doesn’t have a serious bone in his body. It’s one of the reasons I love being around him. His humor is infectious. He has the rare ability to make the dourest person smile. The fact that his normal, sunny disposition has fled is telling.
It frightens me more than I want to admit.
“Oh honey, his family isn’t just part of the mafia. They are the mafia.”
A chill of unease slithers down my spine at the seriousness of his tone.
Looking concerned, he shakes his head. “What the hell have you gotten yourself involved in?”
That question hits me like a punch to the stomach. This situation is much worse than what I allowed myself to believe.
“I don’t know,” I finally whisper. “I didn’t have a clue as to who he was.”
“How could you not know?”
Breathing through waves of nausea, I shake my head. “I haven’t lived in Chicago for a long time. Matteo is my next-door neighbor. I ran into him a couple of times and then we started…”
His solemn expression transforms into a smirk. “Yes, I can just imagine what you two started doing. The man is completely gorgeous.” Sounding more flippant, he adds, “Hell, knowing who he is, I would still sleep with him.”
Those words break the thick, stifling tension that had fallen over us with the mere mention of Matteo Valentini.
Feeling torn, I ask, “What should I do?”
He looks sympathetic. “I don’t know what to tell you, doll face. This is unchartered territory.”
“Do you think I should talk to him?”
Jonathan squares his shoulders. “All right, by my estimation of the situation, you have three options.”
I nod, feeling better that he’s taking control and giving me some much-needed advice.
“Option number one is that you end it and walk away.” His blue-green gaze turns solemn. “And you don’t say one damn word about anything you heard.”
Knowing everything I do, that’s exactly what my next move should be. Why would I knowingly want to get involved with someone who has a notorious reputation and a shady past attached to him?
So why does the thought of breaking things off with Matteo make my heart ache?
“Option two is that you let the relationship run its course. I mean, how long will this thing between you two really last? A few weeks? A month or two?” He looks thoughtful. “I don’t remember ever hearing of him being involved in a relationship before.”
Chewing the inside of my cheek, I contemplate the merits of that choice. Can I feign ignorance for as long as it takes? Is it possible to screw Matteo out of my system? Or will I only grow to care about him more?
“Option three is that you talk to him. But only do that if you’ve lost your ever-loving mind and truly believe you two have a future together.”
An arrow of dread pierces me at the idea of discussing these rumors with him.
We fall silent, both lost in our own private thoughts.
“No matter what you decide, you need to be careful. The Valentinis are a powerful family. No one knows for sure what they’re involved in because nothing is ever publicly discussed. There are no loose ends to tie up,” he raises his eyebrows, “if you catch my drift. It’s all speculation and conjecture. Everyone in this city knows not to cross them, including the police and the DA’s office. Nothing touches them, Grace. Do you know how powerful you need to be for your name to carry that kind of clout?”
Everything he says swirls around in my head. Jonathan is right. The Valentinis must be extremely influential to wield that kind of power.
Pulling me in for a hug, he whispers, “Is Valentini having you followed?”
Brows jerking together, I pull away. “No.” I try to swallow down the rising paranoia. “I… well, I don’t think so.” Panic laces my voice as it continues to rise. “Why?”
He jerks his chin to the right. “You see that guy over there? He was inside the museum earlier today. He trailed behind our group at a discreet distance. I figured he was a cheapskate and didn’t want to pay for the tour. But then, when we came outside, he followed. Now he’s sitting where he can keep an eye on us. I’m willing to bet that when we head inside, he’ll end up there as well.”
I glance toward the parking lot. Sure enough, there’s a man sitting on one of the benches. He’s not turned directly toward us, more to the side as if he’s looking at the Art Institute, but we’re in his line of sight. I want nothing more than to discredit Jonathan’s wild claims, but...
I think he’s right. I think that man is following me.
And the only logical explanation is that he works for Matteo.