Chapter 4 - The Price of the Rossi Name
The photograph appeared online the next morning.
MATTEO ROSSI'S MYSTERY WOMAN.
By noon, Isabella's phone wouldn't stop ringing.
She ignored it until someone knocked on her office door.
Her boss entered.
“Isabella?”
“Yes?”
“There are reporters downstairs.”
She closed her eyes.
“Of course there are.”
Her phone rang again.
Matteo.
She answered.
“You have thirty seconds.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Twenty-eight.”
“I didn't know anyone followed us.”
“You didn't?”
Silence.
Isabella understood immediately.
“You did know.”
“Not specifically.”
“Matteo.”
“I know photographers follow me sometimes.”
“And you forgot to mention that?”
“I didn't think—”
“Correct.”
He went quiet.
Isabella grabbed her coat.
“I have people outside my office asking whether I'm marrying you.”
“Luca is coming.”
“No.”
“He'll get you out safely.”
“I said no.”
“Isabella—”
“I don't need six men surrounding me like I'm a head of state.”
“Two.”
“What?”
“I sent two.”
“That isn't better!”
Matteo rubbed his forehead from inside his office.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Ask me.”
The answer stopped him.
“What?”
“Ask what I need before deciding for me.”
Matteo went silent.
Then, carefully, “What do you need?”
“I need the reporters gone.”
“I can arrange that.”
“Legally.”
He almost smiled.
“Legally.”
“And I need you to understand that dating you does not mean joining your organization, your companies, or whatever complicated world surrounds the Rossi family.”
His voice lowered.
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
Isabella looked through her office blinds.
“Good.”
She ended the call.
Across town, Luca entered Matteo's office.
“You look angry.”
“I’m not.”
“You broke a pen.”
Matteo looked at the pieces in his hand.
“She thinks I'm controlling.”
Luca said nothing.
Matteo looked up.
“Say it.”
“She isn't wrong.”
Matteo stared.
Luca shrugged.
“You pay me to tell you when people are lying.”
“You’re enjoying this.”
“A little.”
Matteo stood.
“What do I do?”
“Something you've apparently never done.”
“What?”
“Listen.”
That evening Matteo went to Isabella's apartment.
Alone.
No convoy.
No gifts.
He knocked.
She opened the door.
“You came alone.”
“You asked.”
“I didn't ask you to come.”
“Then I'm halfway there.”
She fought a smile.
“What do you want?”
“To apologize.”
“For?”
“Assuming I knew what was best for you.”
Isabella waited.
“And?”
Matteo sighed.
“And sending security without asking.”
“And?”
“There's more?”
“Keep going.”
He almost laughed.
“For treating every inconvenience like something I could control.”
“Better.”
“Can I come in?”
She considered him.
Then stepped aside.
Matteo entered.
Her apartment was modest.
Books everywhere.
Architectural sketches covered one wall.
No expensive decorations.
No attempt to impress anyone.
Matteo noticed a framed photograph.
Isabella with her parents.
“You look happy.”
“We were.”
“Were?”
“My father died four years ago.”
Matteo turned.
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
No dramatic speech.
No forced sympathy.
Just silence.
Then Isabella looked toward him.
“Your turn.”
“My turn?”
“Tell me something real.”
Matteo hesitated.
“My father died when I was twenty-four.”
“How?”
“A heart attack.”
“And you took over?”
“Everything.”
“At twenty-four?”
“Yes.”
“That must have terrified you.”
“No.”
Isabella stared.
Matteo exhaled.
“Yes.”
There it was again.
Truth.
She stepped closer.
“You don't always have to be the strongest person in the room.”
“In my world, I do.”
“Then maybe you need another world.”
Matteo looked at her.
“And what world is that?”
“One where people can disagree with you without disappearing from the guest list.”
He laughed.
Then Isabella smiled.
For the first time, Matteo realized she wasn't asking him to abandon who he was.
She was asking him to become more than it.
But outside Isabella's apartment building, another problem was beginning.
Matteo's uncle, Carlo Rossi, sat inside a parked sedan.
He looked toward Isabella's window.
Then at Luca.
“She'll become a weakness.”
Luca's expression hardened.
“She isn't your concern.”
“Everything affecting Matteo is my concern.”
“No.”
Luca stepped closer.
“It's his.”
Carlo smiled coldly.
May you like
“We'll see.”
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