“She’s mine.”
The silence stretched out between them for nearly a minute before Matteo finally found his words again. “You’re not going to change your mind, are you?”
“No.” He and Rose were inevitable. She knew that in her heart, or she wouldn’t have let him live this time. She was just too tied up in her family shit to see things clearly. She let her head overrule what her heart wanted, and while he could respect that she stuck to her guns, there was no fucking way he’d let her marry that bastard Romeo Capparelli. “She’s mine,” he repeated. “And as soon as I deal with your father, I’m going to go get her.”
Chapter 17
The flight back to New York was aggravating as fuck.
Rose’s head pounded from where Casimir had slammed her into the ground. Her throat felt like she’d swallowed live coals. And her ankle ached just enough to be truly irritating.
Most of all, her cousin and uncle refused to answer a single one of her questions.
Uncle Jude had made sure she was okay as soon as they got on the plane, but the second he realized she wouldn’t stop pestering them, he’d muttered something under his breath about stubborn women, pulled out his laptop, and for all intents and purposes seemed to be ignoring them despite his lack of headphones.
“Grady, just tell me what happened. You were at the wedding.”
Grady crossed his arms over his broad chest. He was even bigger than his dad, which was saying something. They had the same dark hair and dark eyes, though Grady was just built solid. Uncle Jude was no slouch, even now that he was in his sixties, but Grady looked like he could just plow through a concrete wall without missing a step. He also had Uncle Jude’s glare down to a science. “We were hired to find you. We don’t have anything to do with the rest of it.”
She didn’t roll her eyes, but it was a near thing. “Yes, yes, I’m aware you aren’t actually connected with the less-than-legal activities. God forbid you dirty your pristine hands the way the rest of your family has.” Back in the day, Jude and Sloan had lived outside of Boston for several years before they moved back to the city, and even then it was with the understanding that they would not be included in any of the O’Malley businesses, either legit or in the shadows. She respected their choice, but Grady’s holier-than-thou attitude never failed to piss her off. Especially right now, when she wasn’t actually asking him to delve into anything but what he saw personally. “But you were at the wedding and you’re here now.”
“The only reason I’m here is because we’re good at finding people and you needed found.” He glared harder. “And, fucking hell, Rose. You’re family even if you’re a pain in the ass.”
“Thanks, Grady, so sweet of you to say.” She wouldn’t pretend she hadn’t needled him whenever the opportunity arose at extended family get-togethers; he was so uptight, she was practically required to mess with him. She huffed. God, her throat fucking hurt, but she wasn’t about to let that stop her from getting answers. “You won’t tell me? Fine. Give me a phone and I’ll call home myself.”
“No.” This came from Jude. He didn’t look up from his computer. “Your parents specifically said they’d update you when you got back.”
Frustration reached a rapid boil inside her. “Since when do you care what Dmitri fucking Romanov wants?” There was a time when Papa and Jude were actual enemies. That hatred had faded over the years, but they were hardly what could be termed friends.
“Rose.” He finally lifted his gaze from the laptop. When she was a little girl, she just thought Uncle Jude was a quiet guy with the patience of Job. He wouldn’t play silly games like Uncle Cillian or Uncle Teague, but he also had no problem reading to their chaotic group of cousins for extended periods of time.
Now, as an adult, she couldn’t quite forget the fact he used to kill people for living. It was there in the steadiness of his gaze, in the quiet way he held the body he’d kept strong despite the years passing and the gray in his hair. Every once in a while, he gave her a flash of that man he used to be, and he was giving it to her now.
She wasn’t a little girl anymore, though. She lifted her chin, fighting back a wince when the move made both head and throat ache. “Tell me.”
“You’ll find out soon enough.” He leaned back and surveyed her again. “You were sure quick to get out of there. Left some loose ends.”
A wealth of implication beneath those words, implication she certainly didn’t want to examine too closely. By all rights, she should have shot Dante and left him for dead. Again. It was the smart thing to do, even if it meant having to dodge the law. She’d seen the look on his face, heard the truth in his words.