~ Niamh ~
Massimo recovered almost immediately, that jagged, lethal look smoothing over as he regained his composure.
But I had seen it, and a twisted part of me relished the fact that his own son had put it there.
"Well, that's… nice," he cleared his throat and swallowed.
"Teach me Italian!" Matteo said all of a sudden, tugging hard on Massimo's hand.
"Well," Massimo glanced at me, his eyes searching mine for a challenge. "If your mother agrees, then I will."
If I didn't know better, I would have thought he actually cared about my opinion. But I knew the game.
He knew I didn't want Matteo anywhere near him, but he also knew I would do anything to make Matteo happy.
"Mommy, please," Matteo begged, wearing a puppy-dog face that was one of my weaknesses.
"Of course Daddy can teach you Italian," I forced a smile and held my arms out.
Matteo immediately hugged me, and I scooped him up, holding him tightly against my chest.
I found myself wishing, just for a second, that this was a real family—with any other man in the world but Massimo.
Massimo led us down a grand hallway lined with six heavy doors facing each other.
The space was wide, with polished stone floors that swallowed the sound of our footsteps, the air felt still and expensive, like a museum, and the soft, golden light added to the luxury.
"Matteo, this is your bedroom," he announced, swinging open one of the doors at the end of the hallway and I gasped.
The room was a child's dream, designed to perfection, yet it somehow had the weight of a future Don's sanctuary.
Superhero paintings covered the walls and toys were everywhere, but the colors were deep and serious—navy and slate—and a charcoal sketch of a vintage pistol hung on the wall, a silent reminder of the Valentino blood in his veins.
I hated to admit it, but the room was by far more beautiful and well-thought-out for a boy like Matteo than the one he owned back at the O'Connor mansion.
"Wow," Matteo jumped from my arms and scrambled onto the bed to have a closer look at the superhero paintings. "This is amazing, Daddy!" He grinned, and Massimo let out a low chuckle.
"That's not all. Come check this out," he gestured for Matteo to follow.
Oh no, don't tell me there's more, I groaned internally.
I followed them as Massimo opened the door right next to Matteo's bedroom.
I was caught off guard by the sight. It was a private study. Shelves were packed with books, novels, and comics, and a sleek laptop sat ready on a dark wood desk.
Everything was perfectly placed, a room built for a growing mind. It was quiet, organized, and felt like a place where a legacy was meant to be built.
"Here's your study room, son," Massimo revealed. "Everything you need to sharpen your intellect is right here."
Matteo looked speechless, his eyes wide as he took it all in. I felt a reluctant tug of respect for Massimo. For him to want his son to value knowledge was a fatherly trait I hadn't expected.
Not that I'd ever give him the satisfaction of knowing it.
"Come on, piccolo, there's still one more surprise. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy." Massimo took his hand and led us to the next door.
There's still more? What else could a kid want?
I shook my head, feeling like a ghost in the wake of their bonding. When we stepped into the third room, I actually gulped.
It was a child's paradise, with every game and toy a kid could ever dream of. From life-sized superhero figures to the latest video games, it was a world of its own.
Matteo screamed and jumped in delight. I could feel his love for Massimo skyrocketing to an insane height right in front of my eyes.
"Do you like it?" Massimo asked, looking both hopeful and proud.
"Yes!" Matteo exclaimed, throwing his arms around Massimo's leg. "You're so cool, Daddy."
My stomach churned at the compliment and I regretted ever introducing them.
How had Massimo pulled all of this off in barely seventy-two hours of knowing he had a son?
"Mommy, isn't Daddy the best?" Matteo's question was like a knife to my ribs.
I blinked, trying to find my voice. "Yes, sweetie. Now, what do you say to Daddy?"
"Thank you, Daddy," he responded.
Massimo looked at me with a flash of surprise before turning a soft smile on our son.
"Don't mention it, son. It's the least I could do."
Matteo dove into the toys immediately.
I didn't have the heart to scold him for it so I let him have this moment of peace after the hell of the past week.
"Follow me," Massimo said calmly. He turned and left the room, and I followed him reluctantly, leaving Matteo totally oblivious to our exit.
We walked in a thick silence, the sudden absence of Matteo palpable, till we got to the first door in the hallway.
He opened the door and gestured into the room that had his scent hanging mildly in the air.
"This is our room, Niamh," he said.
I froze. My eyes snapped from the luxurious space to his face.
"Did I hear you correctly?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly. "Did you just say our room?"
Massimo's brow furrowed. "Yes. Our room. Where we'll be sleeping."
I scoffed and crossed my arms, the heat of my anger rising. "And what makes you think I'm sharing a room with you?"
The confusion on Massimo's face vanished, replaced by the cold mask I was used to.
"We're married. That's enough reason for us to share the same room," he said flatly.
"If you think that I would be sleeping with you because of a fake marriage forced upon me, then Massimo, I think you're delusional," I spat.
His jaw worked as he glared at me. "It doesn't matter."
"It does! I'm staying with my son. Sharing a room with you is not even an option."
"No, you're not," Massimo's voice hardened. "Matteo is a smart four-year-old kid who deserves privacy and space to enjoy himself. I won't let you deprive him of that just because of your clinginess."
"I'm his mother! You can't tell me to stay away from my son!"
"And I'm his father," he growled, taking a step forward. "I'm ensuring he has the best life possible, and that includes ownership of his own space. That room was for him, not both of you, so don't ruin it for him."
I seethed, hating that his logic was actually beginning to sound right.
But I still wouldn't back down.
"Fine. But I'm sure there are plenty of spare rooms in this house. Because there is no way I am sharing a bed with a monster," I declared and walked away.
"Niamh," he called.
I ignored him.
"Niamh!" he hissed this time, but I kept going.
Suddenly his hand clamped onto my elbow, spinning me around faster than I could catch my breath.
"What?" I snapped.
"Do not walk away from me," Massimo rumbled, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous octave.
I folded my arms. "Or what?"
You're a monster.
The words I threw at him earlier hung between us. On my side, it was a dare. I arched an eyebrow, daring him to do it.
Hurt me. Grab me. Prove me right.
Massimo was fuming. His jaw worked, the vein in his throat throbbed with anger. He didn't like that I called him a monster and he was keeping that at the top of his mind as he stared me down.
"Or what, Massimo?" I repeated. I shifted, tucking my arms closer together.
The movement made the dress that I've been wearing stretch over my chest.
His eyes tracked my movement then settled on my chest, and they darkened and sparked with something hot and familiar.
Heat. Pure, unfiltered heat.
My body betrayed me instantly. My breathing became shallow, my skin hot, and there was a shiver of arousal that ran over my body, arching up my spine like an electric current.
My eyes drifted down to Massimo's lips, then quickly darted back up when I heard him make a deep note in his throat.
I wanted him to kiss me.
The thought absolutely terrified me. I didn't know what it was about Massimo that made me so weak, but I knew one thing.
I couldn't let him affect me like this. I had to get out of his orbit.
I hissed out a breath and I backed up until I hit the wall of the hallway behind me.
Massimo prowled forward, his eyes never leaving mine and my pulse kicked up. He always reminded me of a panther—tall, graceful, purposeful, with every movement controlled and predatory.
When the wall appeared behind me, he braced one palm flat next to my head and leaned forward.
Oh my God.
He still smelled so good. Bay and cedar. It curled around me, dark and delicious, bringing me right back to the night we slept together.
And I was still susceptible to him. My heart had sped up and my stomach fluttered like a teenager talking to her first crush.
This close Massimo was overwhelming. There was just so much of him. Broad shoulders. Dark stubble on his cheeks. His perfect kissable lips. The way his hair, which was a little bit disheveled from the drive, fell into his eyes. His spicy scent.
It was all too much. I felt like all my senses were drowning underwater in a sea of Massimo.
I closed my eyes. I needed to get away from him.
"Back up," I whispered. My voice shook and I was so mad at myself for being so vulnerable to his infuriating sexy manliness.
"And if I don't?" He arched a perfect brow in challenge, his voice darker and more husky, like he was fighting a losing battle for control.
I couldn't breathe. Couldn't move.
I couldn't think beyond the memory of five years ago, his lips on mine, how perfectly we had fit together, how completely I had given myself to him.
Only him.
His gaze dropped to my mouth, and I felt it like a physical touch. Before I could register it, his lips crushed down on mine.
Rockets fired, just like they had the first time he kissed me.
For a moment, I surrendered.
How could I not? I've missed him. Longed for him. Needed to feel wanted by him.
But my years of hatred reared back in full force and I broke the kiss and slapped him hard across the face.
"Don't you ever lay your filthy mouth on mine again!" I thundered, my body shaking with both heat and fury.
My face was flushed, my mouth hot, but I neglected my need and embraced my anger instead.
Massimo held his stinging cheek, a stunned expression on his face.
His eyes flashed with a mix of anger and surprise, but before he could react, the sudden, echoing boom of a gunshot rang out from outside the house.