Adriana

I woke with a piercing headache that felt like someone was driving nails into my skull. I groaned softly, pressing my palm against my forehead as I tried to piece together the fragments of last night. Bits and pieces flashed through my mind… the club, the music, the pole, but everything else was hazy and disjointed, like trying to remember a dream.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught movement. Matteo stood by the table near the floor-to-ceiling windows, setting down plates and trays with careful precision.

The hot Miami breeze rushed in through the open balcony doors, carrying the scent of salt and sun. The city sprawled beneath us, glittering in the morning light.

"Good morning, Princess," Matteo said without turning around, his voice calm and measured. Somehow, he knew I was awake even though his back was still turned to me.

I sat up slowly, wincing as the movement made my head throb worse. The memories came rushing back in vivid flashes, and mortification washed over me like a wave. "Matteo, I'm so sorry," I blurted out, my voice hoarse and shaky. "Last night, I shouldn't have, my behaviour was completely reckless and inappropriate. I don't know what I was thinking."

He turned to face me then, and I was surprised to see his expression was gentle, almost concerned. He crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. "It's not your fault, Adriana," he said softly, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from my face. "I shouldn't have let you drink so much. That's on me."

I stared at him in genuine surprise, my eyes widening. Most mafia men I knew would have reacted completely differently to last night's behaviour. They would have been furious, punishing their wives for such reckless,attention-seeking actions. A slap, a locked room, a harsh lecture at minimum. But Matteo sat here being gentle with me, taking responsibility instead of placing blame. He shocked me every single day with his unexpected kindness.

I swallowed hard, trying to push past the vulnerability rising in my chest. "Did you get to speak to Gabriel?" I asked carefully, changing the subject to something safer. "About the coming war?"

Matteo's jaw clenched immediately, a muscle ticking in his cheek. "No," he replied, his voice tight with frustration.

Guilt crashed over me like a tidal wave. I had distracted them, ruined their important meeting with my drunken performance. "Matteo, I'm so—"

"Don't," he interrupted, his tone softening as he reached for my hand. "Don't apologise again. It's not your fault, amore. These things happen." He squeezed my fingers gently, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on my skin. "It will be okay. We have plans to see each other this afternoon anyway, so we'll talk then."

I looked up at him, curious despite my lingering guilt. "What plans?"

"We've been invited to his private beach," Matteo explained, a small smile tugging at his lips. "His wife, Kiara, will be there, and their little girl, Sofia. It should be nice and relaxed."

My face immediately dropped at the word "family," and I felt my stomach twist into knots. Since we got married, I haven't met another mafia family, and there was a very good reason for that. It was exactly why I never wanted to marry anyone from this world in the first place. Mafia gatherings could be quite dramatic, full of whispered gossip and venomous snakes hiding behind polite smiles. Especially with my past, with everything people knew or thought they knew about me.

Matteo must have seen the panic flash across my face because he immediately moved closer. "Everything will be okay," he assured me, his voice gentle and certain. "Gab and Kiara aren't like that. They're free of judgment, I promise you. They're good people."

I felt my shoulders physically relax at his words, some of the tension draining from my body. Before I could say anything, he pulled me into a warm hug, his strong arms wrapping around me protectively.

"I got chicken noodle soup for your hangover," he murmured against my hair, and I could hear the smile in his voice. "It's on the table. You should eat before it gets cold."

I buried my face in his chest, feeling safe for the first time all morning.

I pulled away from his embrace and moved to the table, my eyes widening at the spread before me. The food was arranged so carefully, almost artistically, the chicken noodle soup steaming in a pristine white bowl, fresh fruit cut into perfect pieces, toast with butter melting at the edges, and a glass of fresh orange juice. Beyond the table, the view was breathtaking. Miami stretched out below us, the ocean glittering like diamonds in the morning sun.

I picked up the spoon and took a sip of the soup, the warm broth soothing my aching head immediately. When I glanced up, I caught Matteo watching me with an intensity that made my breath catch.

"I like seeing you eat," he said softly, his dark eyes never leaving my face. Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I looked down quickly, suddenly shy under his gaze.

His phone rang, breaking the moment. He answered, his expression shifting. "Gabriel," he said, then listened. "Yes, we'll be there." A pause. "Tell Kiara that Adriana is looking forward to meeting her, too."

When he hung up, his jaw was set with determination. This afternoon wasn't just about a beach visit. He would ask Gabriel for help with the incoming war, and everything could change.

Matteo set his phone down and turned to me, his expression serious. "Before we go, there are some things you need to know."

I set down my spoon, giving him my full attention.

"First," he said, his eyes locking onto mine, "don't be afraid to speak up during our discussions. You're part of my team now, Adriana. Your opinions and input matter just as much as anyone else's."

I nodded slowly, warmth spreading through my chest at his words.

"Second," he continued, his tone shifting slightly, "Gabriel is a flirt and a serial cheater. His wife knows about it. And he's apparently set his sights on you."

My eyes widened in surprise, but before I could respond, he pressed on.

"Third, Kiara is..." he paused, choosing his words carefully, "she's struggling with a cocaine addiction. She's been in and out of rehab, trying to get clean. If she acts strange or seems off today, just understand she's dealing with a lot and trying her best."

I sat there processing everything, my mind racing. This afternoon was going to be far more complicated than I'd imagined.