Chapter 7 - The Only Answer That Mattered
Six months later, Isabella stood inside the restored lobby of the Bellmore Hotel.
Not because Rossi Development had hired her.
They hadn't.
After Matteo withdrew the contract, the board selected another firm.
Three months later, that firm withdrew.
The board reopened the bidding under independent supervision.
Isabella's company won.
Fairly.
She had never been prouder.
Matteo entered the lobby wearing a black suit.
His tattooed hands were visible as he adjusted his cuffs.
Isabella looked over.
“You're late.”
“Seven minutes.”
“Eight.”
“I own the building.”
“That doesn't change clocks.”
Matteo smiled.
Some things never changed.
Others had.
He no longer sent security without asking.
He stopped solving Isabella's problems unless she requested help.
He took Sundays off.
Mostly.
And once a week, Matteo Rossi turned off his phone for dinner.
The first time he'd done it, Luca had assumed something terrible had happened.
Tonight the Bellmore was empty.
Isabella looked around.
“Where is everyone?”
“Gone.”
“Why?”
“Private event.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“What did you do?”
“Why do you immediately assume I did something?”
“Experience.”
Matteo held out his hand.
“Come with me.”
She hesitated.
“No helicopter.”
“No helicopter.”
“No yacht.”
“No yacht.”
“No orchestra hiding somewhere.”
Matteo looked mildly disappointed.
“I canceled them.”
“Matteo.”
“Joking.”
She took his hand.
He led her upstairs.
They reached the ballroom.
Isabella opened the doors.
Nothing extravagant waited inside.
No flowers covering the room.
No photographers.
No family.
Just one small table beside the windows.
Two plates.
A bottle of wine.
And takeout containers from the tiny Italian restaurant where they'd had their second date.
Isabella stopped.
“You remembered.”
“I remember everything about that night.”
“The terrible chairs?”
“Yes.”
“The waiter who thought you were a banker?”
“Yes.”
“The pasta?”
“Especially the pasta.”
She smiled.
They sat.
Halfway through dinner, Isabella noticed Matteo wasn't eating.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You've been staring at me for two minutes.”
“I’m thinking.”
“Dangerous.”
“Very.”
Matteo stood.
Isabella immediately looked suspicious.
“Why are you standing?”
“I need to ask you something.”
“Ask.”
He reached inside his jacket.
Then stopped.
Months earlier, Isabella might have expected some extravagant jewelry box.
Instead Matteo removed a small photograph.
He placed it in front of her.
It showed them outside that little restaurant.
The photograph a reporter had taken on their second date.
Isabella looked up.
“This was the first picture anyone took of us.”
“I know.”
“I hated this picture.”
“I know.”
“Why do you have it?”
“Because I didn't.”
“What?”
Matteo pointed toward the photograph.
“That man didn't know what he had.”
Isabella went quiet.
“He thought being powerful meant never needing anyone.”
Matteo reached into his pocket again.
This time, he removed a small ring box.
Isabella stared.
“Matteo.”
“I know you don't want my money.”
He opened the box.
A simple, elegant diamond ring rested inside.
“You don't want my power.”
He lowered himself onto one knee.
Isabella covered her mouth.
“And you definitely don't care about my family name.”
She laughed through sudden tears.
“Your grandmother might disagree.”
“She usually does.”
Matteo looked up at her.
“So I'm not offering you any of those things.”
His voice became quieter.
“I'm offering you me.”
Isabella's eyes filled.
“The man who works too much.”
“Yes.”
“The man who thinks sending security solves everything.”
“Formerly.”
“The man who still doesn't understand normal restaurant prices.”
“Those chairs were terrible.”
She laughed again.
Matteo smiled.
Then his expression became serious.
“You asked me what I do when nobody is watching.”
Isabella remembered.
Their first dinner.
The question that had changed everything.
“I didn't know the answer then,” Matteo said.
“And now?”
“Now I come home to you.”
Silence filled the ballroom.
Matteo held out the ring.
“Isabella Carter, will you marry me?”
She stared at him.
Matteo Rossi had faced hostile negotiations without blinking.
Now his hand was trembling.
Isabella noticed.
“You're nervous.”
“Extremely.”
“Good.”
“Isabella.”
She let him suffer another second.
Then smiled.
“Yes.”
Matteo froze.
“Yes?”
“Yes.”
He stood so quickly she laughed.
Matteo slipped the ring onto her finger.
Then Isabella pulled him closer and kissed him.
A few minutes later, the ballroom doors suddenly opened.
“Finally!”
Elena Rossi entered.
Isabella pulled away.
Matteo stared at his grandmother.
“You said nobody was here.”
Elena waved dismissively.
“I lied.”
Luca appeared behind her.
Then Isabella's mother.
Then several members of both families.
Isabella looked at Matteo.
“You knew?”
“No.”
Everyone looked toward Elena.
She smiled innocently.
Matteo sighed.
“Of course.”
Isabella laughed.
Later that night, after the champagne and congratulations, Matteo and Isabella stood alone on the Bellmore terrace.
The city glowed beneath them.
Isabella looked at her ring.
“Do you remember our first date?”
“Every second.”
“I told you I didn't want your money.”
“Yes.”
“Your power.”
“Yes.”
“Or your family name.”
Matteo smiled.
“And now you're marrying into it.”
“No.”
She turned toward him.
“I'm marrying you.”
His smile disappeared.
Not because he was unhappy.
Because even after everything, those words still reached the part of him nobody else saw.
Isabella touched his face.
“You finally figured it out.”
“What?”
“Who Matteo Rossi is when nobody is watching.”
He wrapped an arm around her waist.
“And who is he?”
She smiled.
“Just a man who had to learn that the most important thing in his life couldn't be bought.”
Matteo kissed her forehead.
“Worth learning.”
Below them, the city continued moving.
Companies opened.
Deals closed.
People whispered the Rossi name with the same mixture of respect and fear they always had.
Matteo still had the fortune.
He still had the influence.
He still carried the Rossi name.
But none of those things had won Isabella Carter.
He had earned her trust.
She had earned his honesty.
And the woman who had once stood from his table and told him she wanted nothing he could buy had become the one person Matteo Rossi would never try to own.
May you like
Only love.
And for the first time in his life, that was more than enough.
