The Hitman's Mark

MATTEO

Val spent the rest of the weekend by her father's side, and Matteo spent the rest of it by the principessa's side.

Although Val had reportedly planned on returning to the women at the townhouse that Saturday or Sunday, Leonardo requested her presence at several, obscenely long meetings. Which meant that Matteo also attended several, obscenely long meetings. He almost missed standing guard outside the townhouse. Almost.

The meetings were mundane at best, routine negotiations with weapons dealers and discussing contracts with real estate tycoons. The dark-haired princess sat by her father's side throughout it all, seemingly reveling in every conversation despite not participating. Regardless of what she said she learned at Oxford, no amount of coursework throughout college could've taught Val how to do business like the Hollowman.

Matteo watched from the background as the spoiled girl studied Leonardo. Analyzed his mannerisms and hand gestures. Memorized the way he twirled his cigar between his fingers when considering an opponent's offer. How the don ensured that the Romano famiglia came out on top of every deal.

On occasion, Leonardo introduced Val to the business men sitting across from them, but most of the men seemed more concerned by Matteo's presence looming behind her. Matteo knew it bothered her. He could tell by the way her slender shoulders stiffened and her jaw clenched.

And yet, she never complained.

And, despite Matteo's expectations, she rose to every challenge that Leonardo conjured for her.

There were moments, when Val sat hunched over business contracts and accounts deep into the night or when Leonardo praised her analysis of a negotiation, that Matteo thought she might actually succeed. He thought that Leonardo might just allow her to rise as boss of the Romano family, Ezra McLeod be damned.

But Matteo knew Leonardo. He knew the boss far better than most men in the Romano famiglia, and he certainly knew him better than Val. No matter her triumphs, Leonardo would not stray from his course.

Matteo almost pitied her.

For that reason, when Val asked him if he'd teach self-defense to the girls at the townhouse, Matteo accepted.

It was a Tuesday morning when Val finally managed to clear her schedule long enough to visit the townhouse again.

Per usual, Matteo drove while she sat in the passenger seat, tapping her fingers against her leg to the oldies rock on the radio. In the past week, they'd negotiated a handful of radio stations that Matteo deemed acceptable– 80's rock, the local news network, 2000's Hip Hop, and the Yankee's sports radio. 

"I actually took some jiu jitsu classes at Oxford," Val bragged, a small smirk playing on her lips. "Nothing crazy, but I think you'll be impressed by how much I already know."

Matteo eased the car into a right turn, eyes flickering between the road and Val. Her smile was contagious.

"I thought I was teaching Allison and the rest of the girls from the townhouse?" he challenged, cocking a brow at his companion. "I didn't sign up to give you private lessons too, principessa."

Val rolled her eyes, the expression playful, like she too had grown accustomed to their relentless bickering.  "I don't need lessons, bodyguard," she drawled. "But you'll need a co-instructor. Someone to demonstrate the moves on. I'm your girl."

Matteo hadn't thought of that. Of course he wouldn't be able to touch any of the girls rescued from Belyaev's trafficking ring. Some of the young women at the townhouse couldn't even look in his direction, much less stomach the thought of him standing close enough to touch. He'd need to be innovative with his lessons, and that began with using Val as his punching bag.