Chapter 2
Valentina's POV
After Franco left, I stared at the ceiling, lost in thought. He was right—now it was Matteo's turn. I had to approach him according to plan, gain his trust, and then...
Kill him.
This shouldn't be hard. After all, men were all the same. A little feminine charm and they'd fall right into the trap.
"I need to handle some inheritance documents."
Three days later that afternoon, I knocked on Matteo's office door, clutching a stack of forged legal papers.
"Come in."
I pushed open the heavy oak door, and the scent of whiskey and cigars hit me immediately.
Matteo sat behind his desk, white shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing muscular forearms. His tie was loosened, collar slightly open. That handsome face was focused intently on his computer screen.
Definitely good-looking.
"Your father always spoke of your talent," I said softly, slowly walking toward his desk.
He looked up, those deep black eyes locking onto mine. "He never mentioned you to me."
The moment he spoke, the air seemed to freeze.
Straight to the point.
I forced myself to keep smiling. "Maybe... he didn't know how to explain our relationship to you."
"Explain?" He leaned back in his chair, his gaze roaming over me. "A twenty-three-year-old marrying a fifty-eight-year-old man does need some explanation."
I placed the documents on his desk, deliberately bending forward to let the neckline of my silk blouse reveal an enticing curve. "Love knows no age, Matteo. Your father made me feel safe."
His eyes involuntarily glanced down, then quickly looked away, his Adam's apple bobbing.
Got you.
"Safe?" He stood up and walked toward me. "In the Rossi family, no one is safe. Including my father."
Those words made my heart race.
"Do you think there was something wrong with your father's death?" I asked tentatively.
Matteo suddenly closed in, his tall frame creating an overwhelming sense of pressure. I was forced to step back until my back hit the bookshelf.
"Valentina," his voice was low, dangerously magnetic, "don't you think that heart attack was too convenient?"
DAMN, he really is suspicious!
The distance was too close—I could smell his faint cologne. My heartbeat became irregular.
"The doctor said it was acute myocardial infarction..." I tried to stay calm, but my voice trembled slightly.
He reached out, his long fingers gently caressing my cheek. The gesture was so sudden, so intimate, it left me stunned.
"You're trembling," he gazed at me, those eyes seeming to see through my soul. "Is it from fear... or something else?"
What the HELL is happening?
My skin burned under his fingertips, my whole body felt like it was struck by electricity. This wasn't part of the plan!
"I..."
Just as I was at a loss for words, he suddenly stepped back, a mocking smile appearing on his face.
"Don't be nervous, stepmother." He emphasized the word "stepmother" with heavy sarcasm. "I just wanted to see how honest you are."
That BASTARD! He was toying with me!
Shame and anger surged through me instantly. Just then, I had actually... actually felt something for him?
"Boss!" Urgent knocking came from outside the door.
A middle-aged man with a scarred face burst in. "The Marconi family is waiting for you at the docks!"
Matteo's expression changed instantly. "Tell them half an hour."
"Yes, Boss!" The man hurried out.
Matteo turned to leave, but I suddenly called out to stop him.
"Can I come with you?"
He stopped and slowly turned around, those deep eyes scrutinizing me. "Family meetings aren't for women."
"I'm part of the Rossi family too!" I clenched my fists. "As your father's widow, I have the right to know what's happening in the family!"
Matteo stared at me quietly, his eyes searching my face for something. The air seemed frozen—I could hear my own rapid heartbeat.
After a long moment, he finally nodded. "Fine. But remember, you can only watch. Don't say a word."
Philadelphia docks, nightfall.
The warehouse was dimly lit, the air thick with the smell of sea salt and motor oil. Two groups faced each other, the atmosphere tense as a drawn sword.
The Marconi family brought five men, led by a bald fat man with a scarred face and small, cunning eyes.
"Matteo Rossi!" the fat man shouted loudly. "Heard your old man kicked the bucket? What a shame! HAHAHA!"
The surrounding Rossi family men burned with rage, hands moving toward their waistbands.
But Matteo just walked forward calmly. "Marconi, showing up on my turf in the middle of the night—can't be just to pay respects."
"Of course not!" The fat man grinned. "I'm here to talk business! The protection fees from the west dock district—we want HALF!"
WHAT?!
"Half?" Matteo sneered. "You joking?"
"No joke! Old Rossi's dead—time to redivide the territory!"
The fat man suddenly noticed me, a lecherous gleam flashing in his eyes. "Well, well, is this the famous little widow? Real pretty!"
He licked his lips. "After we're done with the Rossi family, I'm gonna take real good care of this little beauty! Show her what a REAL man feels like!"
My face instantly flushed red with anger and disgust.
The next second, Matteo moved.
He shot toward the fat man like lightning, landing a heavy punch to his face. The man screamed, his nose breaking, blood spattering.
"MOTHERFUCKER!" Matteo kicked him in the stomach, and the man immediately doubled over like a shrimp.
Then he stepped on the fat man's face, his voice terrifyingly calm: "Dare to insult my stepmother?"
He turned to his men. "Cut out his tongue."
"NO! DON'T!" The fat man struggled frantically.
"Wait." Matteo stepped down harder. "Tell the Marconi family—Philadelphia's rules don't change just because the old man died. The west district is OURS. Always will be."
"Disrespect my family again, next time it won't be just cutting tongues."
My family...
Those four words stirred a strange warmth in my chest. Was he protecting me just then?
The Marconi family members slunk away.
This man...
In that moment, Matteo had transformed completely. Cold, decisive, deadly. But when he flew into rage defending me...
I found my heart beating fast—not from fear, but from an indescribable flutter.
Over the next two weeks, I tried every method to get close to Matteo.
Bringing coffee to his office—politely declined.
Inviting him to dinner—excuses made.
This man is IMPOSSIBLE!
Every time Franco asked about progress, I could only lie that I needed more time. His expression grew darker—I knew his patience was running out.
I HAVE to find an opportunity!
The breakthrough finally came.
That night, I overheard that Matteo was going to Chinatown to handle some "business."
This is my chance!
I could stage a coincidental encounter, create some unexpected situation...
Philadelphia Chinatown, 11 PM.
Neon lights flickered, Chinese signs mysterious in the night. I hid behind a restaurant door, watching Matteo and three men enter the teahouse across the street.
After waiting ten minutes, just as I was about to create my "coincidental meeting"—
RATATATA!
Sudden machine gun fire shattered the night's silence!
What's happening?!
Terrified screams came from inside the teahouse, glass windows shattered, sparks flying.
An ambush!
I saw at least ten men in black emerge from various corners, wielding submachine guns and firing wildly at the teahouse.
Matteo's in danger!
"GET DOWN!"
A familiar voice came from behind me. Matteo suddenly appeared, tackling me to the ground and shielding me with his body.
How did he get out?
"RATATATA!"
Bullets flew over our heads, striking the wall and sending up sparks. Matteo held me tightly—I could feel his rapid heartbeat and burning body heat.
"Why are you here?" he asked urgently in my ear.
"I... I was just passing by..."
"DAMN!" he cursed. "Stay close to me!"
