God, I was falling apart.
"Is he working in general, or is there news about my sister?" I asked, hearing a hint of desperation in my own voice.
That made Matteo soften, head shaking. "We're working on that, hon," he assured me. "He didn't say anything about any new developments, though."
"Would you guys tell me if you had one?" I challenged.
"I guess that depends on what we find out," Matteo told me.
It had been hard the night before, bantering about food combinations, comparing favorite movies and music and shows while we played cards, to see his mafia ties, to spot any of the seriousness in him that seemed necessary for such a position in life.
Right here, though, in the bright morning light in the kitchen?
It was suddenly very clear.
I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen—and heard—it myself.
But there was something vaguely threatening about the way he said it. Like he was daring me to press, to demand, so he could remind me of the power dynamic between us.
"You know, you guys would never have known you have someone screwing you over if not for me."
"Allegedly," Matteo filled in. "We don't have proof of anything yet. Except that you were trespassing on our property. Luca usually has his head in the game, but if he doesn't this time," he said, and it was clear he meant because of me, "I will make sure we keep an eye on the ball."
Standi
ng beside him, even Dario looked a surprised at the change in attitude from someone he had likely known his entire life.
"Did anyone happen to pick up a Snickers at the store?" I asked, looking at Dario.
"A Snickers. No, why? You want one?" he asked, and it was clear that he was under orders to get me something if I asked. Like it or not. Inconvenient or not.
"I was just thinking someone should try feeding one to Matteo here. See if he turns back into someone who isn't a raging asshole." I said it with a smile on my face too, getting a laugh covered in a cough from Dario, and a slow, devilish smirk from Matteo.
"What? You seem to get along with Luca well enough. He's a dick," Matteo told me, shoulders loosening up.
"Luca has been appropriately cautious without needing to stoop to veiled threats," I objected, chin lifting.
"Really? There were no threats when he was yelling at you last night?" Matteo shot back, but there was no heat in his words.
"That was a misunderstanding. And it was ironed out."
"By what methods?" he asked, brow quirking up.
"Romy, babe, what do you think this is a vacation?" Lucky's voice chimed in behind me, making me turn to see him walking in. "Sleeping in till almost noon on a weekday. Missing my award-winning French toast," he tsked, shaking his head at me as he dropped a brown bag on the counter, likely replenishing some of the food stores. "Don't look so crushed. I saved you some," he told me, tugging my hair.
With that, a defeated Dario moved back outside, preferring to swelter in the heat than talk to Matteo. Lucky kept up light conversation as he reheated the French toast for me.
"I'm heading out for a bit," Matteo said, getting no reaction from me, something that Lucky picked up on.
As soon as Matteo was gone, he looked over at me sideways, "What'd you do to Matteo?"
"What did I do? I woke up. And he started throwing attitude and threats at me."
"Dick," Lucky said, handing me my plate.
"That's what I said," I agreed.
"Funny thing about the Grassis. Luca comes off all dark and serious, but he's got a soft heart. Matteo comes off light and fun, but is a lot darker than anyone realizes. Don't take it to heart. He's just looking out for the family."