Claimed by the Capo

The Family Dinner

The car ride was 20 minutes of silence.

Lily stared out the window. Her dress was black. Simple. Long sleeves. It hid the butterfly.

Matteo wore a suit. No tie. Top button undone. Like he was trying not to look like the Capo he was.

From Matteo’s POV:

He hated this. Hated bringing her to the house.

His father had a way of peeling people open in one sentence.

And Lily was already raw.

He reached over and took her hand. She didn’t pull away.

“You don’t have to talk,” he said. “I’ll do it.”

“And if they ask me directly?”

“Then you look at me. I’ll answer.”

From Lily’s POV:

His hand was warm. Too warm.

She wanted to let go. She didn’t.

“What if your dad sees through us?”

“He won’t,” Matteo said. “Because we’re not lying about the important part.”

“Which is?”

“That you’re mine.”

The Russo estate was in Connecticut. Gates. Guards. Gravel driveway.

It looked like a museum. Cold and perfect.

Caterina opened the door herself.

“Matteo, darling,” she said, kissing both his cheeks. Then she turned to Lily. Smile sharp.

“And you must be Lily. The wife.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Russo,” Lily said.

“Caterina,” she corrected. “We’re family now.”

The dining room was massive. Long table. Crystal. Silver.

Vincenzo sat at the head. He didn’t stand when they entered.

Luca and Sofia were already there.

“Sit,” Vincenzo said. No greeting.

Matteo pulled out Lily’s chair. His hand brushed her back for one second before he sat beside her.

From Vincenzo’s POV:

The girl was small. Nervous. Nothing like the women his son usually kept.

But she had Matteo’s hand under the table.

And Matteo looked at her like she was a problem he intended to solve.

Interesting.

“So,” Vincenzo started, cutting his steak. “How did you two meet?”

Matteo answered before Lily could.

“Charity gala. Six months ago. Red Cross. She was volunteering.”

“And you just decided to marry her?”

“It was fast,” Matteo said. “But it was right.”

Lily nodded. Kept her eyes down.

“And the baby?” Caterina asked sweetly. “How far along?”

Lily’s fork clattered.

“Early,” Matteo said smoothly. “We’re not saying anything yet. To anyone.”

“Of course,” Caterina said. “A Russo heir. We’ll be careful.”

From Lily’s POV:

She was going to be sick.

She could feel Matteo’s leg pressed against hers under the table. Grounding her.

“Lily,” Luca said. “What do you do?”

“I... I was in school. NYU. But I had to stop.”

“To take care of my father,” Matteo finished. “She’s taking a year off.”

Vincenzo watched her the whole time.

“You don’t look pregnant,” he said finally.

The table went quiet.

Matteo’s jaw ticked. “She’s 8 weeks, Dad. She’s not showing.”

“Good,” Vincenzo said. “We need an heir. Not a scandal.”

Dinner went on for an hour. Questions about her family. About where they’d live. About the wedding that never happened.

Lily answered what she could. Matteo filled the rest.

When dessert came, Sofia leaned over.

“You’re brave,” she whispered to Lily. “Marrying into this family.”

“I’m not brave,” Lily whispered back. “I’m just trying.”

Sofia smiled. Real this time.

“That’s the same thing.”

On the drive home, Lily didn’t speak until they were halfway there.

“Your father thinks I’m lying,” she said.

“My father thinks everyone is lying,” Matteo said. “It’s his job.”

“He asked about the baby three times.”

“I know.”

“Matteo, what if…”

“Stop,” he said. He pulled the car over.

He turned to her.

“Look at me, Lily.”

She did.

“You did perfect. You survived dinner with Vincenzo Russo. No one does that their first time.”

“I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

“Then throw up. I’ll hold your hair.”

She laughed. It surprised both of them.

“Can I ask you something?” she said.

“Always.”

“Did you tell them the truth? About us? About that night?”

Matteo was quiet.

“No,” he said. “No one knows about that night but us.”

“Good,” Lily whispered. “I don’t want them to have it.”

He reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered.

“We’re going home,” he said. “And you’re going to sleep. No nightmares tonight.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I’m sleeping in the chair again.”

Back at the penthouse, Lily showered. When she came out, Matteo was in the guest room. In the chair. Book in his lap. He wasn’t reading it.

“You don’t have to do this every night,” she said.

“I know.”

“Then why?”

Matteo looked at her.

“Because for the first time in a long time, I want to be in a room where you are.”

Lily’s chest hurt.

“Okay,” she said. “Goodnight, Matteo.”

“Goodnight, Lily.”

She turned off the light. The door stayed open.

From Matteo’s POV, later:

He heard her breathing even out. No gasping. No nightmare.

He closed his eyes.

One year.

He could do one year.

From Lily’s POV, later:

She fell asleep thinking about his hand under the table.

And the way he’d said “mine” like it meant something.