Page 69 of The Cost of Silence

“Matteo,” I say, leveling a look at him. “I’m serious. Stop. We need stability right now.”

He shrugs, but it’s too casual. Too loose. Not real. “You sound like Adi.”

“Adi is right.”

“Whatever.”

“You okay?” I ask quietly.

He goes still.

Barely.

Then he shrugs again, but this time his voice drops. “It sucks. Losing him. Feels like the whole house is… quieter.”

I study him quietly. Matteo lived with our father right up to the day he died. He could have easily moved out. God knows we have more money than we can ever spend, but I think he liked being close in case Dad needed him. It’s why the loss feels bigger for him.

There’s an exhaustion around his eyes he can’t charm away. A shadow. A grief he’s trying to drown in alcohol, sex, and bravado.

I open my mouth to push, but he shakes his head sharply.

“Don’t,” he mutters. “If you ask me how I’m feeling, I’ll end up crying on your desk, and that’s not a good look for anyone.”

My chest tightens. I hate seeing either of my brothers hurting and knowing I can’t fix it. So, I let him pivot. He’ll talk when he is ready and not before. “Any news from the clubs?”

Matteo shakes his head, “Nah, but they have some promotion on at the club, so tonight will be busier.”

“Let me know the second you hear anything useful.”

“Yes, sir.”

I shake my head and glance at my phone, wondering if I should text Isabella.

“So,” he says brightly, too brightly. “Speaking of emotional disasters… how’s Isabella?”

I freeze.

Matteo’s grin is slow and wicked. “Ohhhh. That good?”

“It was nothing.”

He barks a laugh. “Bullshit. You’re glowing.”

“I don’t fucking glow. I’m not a pregnant woman.”

“You do when you’re getting laid.”

I glare. “It’s a fling.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It is.”

“Sure.”

“I mean it,” I snap. “It’s not serious.”

Matteo stands, stretching his arms above his head like a smug bastard. “You keep telling yourself that.” He reaches the door, opens it, then looks back over his shoulder. “You’re fooling nobody but yourself, brother.”