Chapter 8 - The Price of Protection
The safe house was an eighteenth-century stone estate hidden behind iron gates and ancient oak trees in upstate New York, two hours north of the city.
For two weeks, the world outside ceased to exist.
The news reported a ""catastrophic electrical fire and gang-related disturbance"" at the Plaza Hotel, followed by a sudden restructuring of several prominent logistics firms along the Brooklyn waterfront. No charges were filed. No names were released. Matteo’s legal army and political allies had closed ranks, scrubbing every trace of the night from public record.
Upstate, the leaves were turning brilliant shades of crimson and gold.
Marco ran through the orchards with a golden retriever puppy Matteo had bought for him—a real puppy, to replace the phantom dog that had led him into danger in Bryant Park. The boy’s laughter echoed across the open fields, bright, innocent, and completely free from fear.
I sat on the wide wraparound porch, wrapped in a heavy wool cardigan, watching Marco throw a tennis ball across the grass.
A shadow fell over the porch steps.
Matteo walked up, holding two mugs of steaming coffee. He had traded his tailored suits for dark jeans and a charcoal cable-knit sweater. His wound had finally healed, leaving another pale scar across his ribs, but the tension that had haunted his eyes since the day I met him had softened.
He handed me a mug. ""Black. Two sugars. Mrs. Rossi said that's how you like it.""
""Thank you,"" I said, leaning back into the wicker chair.
He sat on the porch railing, looking out over the lawn where Marco was tumbling in the grass with the dog.
""Santoro signed over everything,"" Matteo said quietly. ""The Moretti family sued for peace through an intermediary in Rome yesterday morning. The threat is gone, Nadia. The city is quiet.""
My heart gave a strange, unexpected pang. ""So... it’s over?""
""It is over,"" he confirmed.
I stared down at the dark surface of my coffee. ""So what happens now? Do you give me my fifty thousand dollars and send me to Seattle?""
Matteo didn't answer immediately. The wind rustled the dry maple leaves above our heads, sending a shower of red down onto the lawn. He set his mug down and stepped over to where I was sitting. He leaned down, placing his hands on the arms of my chair, trapping me in the warmth of his presence.
""Do you want to go to Seattle, Nadia?"" he asked, his dark eyes searching mine with intense vulnerability.
""I didn't think I had a choice,"" I whispered, my pulse accelerating.
""You have always had a choice,"" Matteo said softly. ""The night at the Plaza, you could have stayed hidden behind that marble. You could have let my men handle it. But you fought for me. You protected my family. And every day since, you have brought light into a house that was dark for three years.""
He reached out, his thumb gently tracing the curve of my jaw. ""Marco loves you. And I... I am falling in love with you, Nadia. Not because you speak Italian. Not because you saved my son. But because you look at me and see a man who wants to be better, not a monster who rules by fear.""
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Tears pricked the corners of my eyes. ""Matteo, your life is terrifying. There are guns, and enemies, and secrets.""
""I cannot change who I was born to be,"" he admitted, his voice rough with honesty. ""I am a Ferrante. But I can change what that name means. I am moving our operations into clean logistics. Shipping, real estate, legitimate imports. I am stepping away from the violence, Nadia. But I cannot do it alone. I need you.""
