His Queen,Their War

Chapter Seven

The dining room was too quiet.

Not completely silent though,there was the faint ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway, the low hum of the chandelier’s bulbs, the clink of silverware being set in place by a servant who moved quickly, efficiently, like even his footsteps were afraid to linger. But to me, the silence was louder than anything.

I followed Matteo down the stairs, his broad frame cutting an easy path while mine trailed behind, stiff and hesitant. His hand brushed the polished railing, a casual dominance in the way he moved that reminded me I wasn’t just walking down to a meal. Dinner with Matteo was never just dinner.

He pulled out a chair at the long mahogany table and sat without waiting for me. Of course he didn’t. He expected me to know my place, to take the seat across from him like it was reserved only for me. I did, sliding into the chair, my hands clasping in my lap before I dared glance up.

The table was ridiculous. Covered with too many dishes, too many options,roasted chicken, braised veal, bowls of olives, fresh bread, a decanter of wine dark as blood. Yet none of it caught my attention. My eyes were darting, searching for something else that’s not food.

Matteo noticed. Of course he did. His voice broke the silence.

“Looking for someone?”

I froze, my gaze still roaming over the empty chairs, the stretch of the table that looked untouched. My throat felt dry, but I forced the words out anyway. “Is he coming?”

Matteo’s brows lifted, the faintest trace of amusement flickering across his face. He leaned back, his shoulders filling the space like a throne was built into the chair.

“Your ex?”

Heat rose in my cheeks, but I didn’t look away. “Yes.”

For a moment he only stared at me, his mouth curling in that way he had,like the world was a joke only he understood. Then a low chuckle rumbled out of him. It wasn’t cruel, not exactly, but it made me feel small all the same.

“No,” he said simply, pouring wine into his glass. “He isn’t coming.”

Relief shot through me so sharp it almost hurt. I exhaled, a quiet sigh I hadn’t realized I’d been holding in. My chest loosened. My shoulders sagged. Matteo’s eyes flicked to me at once, catching every twitch of weakness, every little betrayal my body gave. He saw too much.

“You saw him didn't you.”

“Yes,I did.”

“You’re afraid of him,” Matteo said, not asking.

“I’m not afraid,” I lied, reaching for the bread just to keep my hands busy. The crust cracked under my fingers. “I just didn’t want to… deal with him tonight.”

“Hmm.” He smirked and cut into the veal. The sound of the knife grinding against the plate echoed through the room. “Good thing you have me instead, then.”

I bit into the bread, chewing slowly, pretending the taste of olive oil filled more than just my mouth. My stomach tightened. I should have felt safer with him than with my ex,but safe wasn’t the word. Never safe. Matteo was a storm that didn’t pass.

It was me who finally broke the silence this time, surprising myself with the boldness in my voice. “You’re mafia, aren’t you?”

The knife paused. His eyes lifted, sharp and dark, locking with mine. For a moment I thought he’d laugh again, brush it off like he always did. But instead, Matteo set the knife down carefully, wiped his mouth with the corner of his napkin, and leaned forward, elbows resting on the table.

“You say that like it’s news.”

“It isn’t,” I admitted quietly, meeting his gaze. “I just wasn’t sure. But… My ex was a mafia. I could tell with you too. The way you speak. The way people move around you.”

For once, Matteo didn’t smirk. He studied me, his silence stretching long enough for me to feel the weight of it pressing down on my chest. Then he gave a single nod, a confirmation without shame.

“Yes,” he said simply. “I am.”

The chandelier’s glow seemed colder suddenly.I swallowed, forcing myself to breathe evenly, though my pulse betrayed me.

“Then tell me something,” I said, before I could lose the nerve. My fingers twisted in my lap. “This marriage with Marco… Can it be canceled?”

His expression didn’t flicker. If anything, the stillness of his face was worse than a laugh. Worse than anger.

“Why?” he asked, his voice smooth, unreadable.

“Because I…” The words caught, raw in my throat. “Because I want my own life. My dreams. I want more than being someone’s wife in a deal I didn’t choose.”

For a second, I thought I saw something in his eyes,something that almost softened. Almost. But it vanished as quickly as it came.

“No,” he said firmly. “It cannot be canceled.”

The finality of it struck me like a slap. My breath hitched, though I tried to disguise it by taking another piece of bread, another bite I could barely swallow.

Matteo continued, his tone calm but cutting. “In this world, there are things you sacrifice. That’s the price. Your dream is one of those things.”

I shook my head, my chest tight, my fork trembling slightly as I picked at the food. “You talk about sacrifice like it’s nothing.”

“It isn’t nothing.” He leaned back, folding his arms across his chest, watching me like I was some puzzle he’d already solved. “It’s everything. And you’ll understand that sooner than you think.”

I lowered my gaze, pushing food around my plate. The roasted chicken might as well have been ash in my mouth.

We didn’t speak much after that. Matteo ate steadily, calmly, as if the weight of my life wasn’t unraveling in front of him. I forced myself to chew, to swallow, to keep up appearances even as my thoughts screamed.

When I finally excused myself, rising from the table with careful movements, his eyes followed me. I felt them between my shoulder blades all the way up the stairs.

In my room, the silence was suffocating. I closed the door, pressed my back against it, and let out a shaky breath I hadn’t dared release downstairs.

Marco. Marriage. Sacrifice. Matteo’s words echoed like chains clinking tighter around me. I wanted to draw. To pick up my sketchbook, to pour my frustration into lines and shapes, dresses I’d never see walk a runway, dreams I’d never see live. But my hands trembled too much.

Instead, I sank onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling as if it could give me answers. My chest rose and fell, my heart aching with the weight of everything I couldn’t say out loud.

Matteo’s face burned behind my eyes,his smirk, his certainty, the way his voice wrapped around me like it belonged in the marrow of my bones. He was everything I feared and everything I couldn’t ignore.

I turned on my side, clutching the blanket, telling myself I’d only rest for a moment. But exhaustion dragged me under quickly, my thoughts blurring, my body sinking.

The last thing I felt before sleep took me was the hollow ache in my chest and Matteo’s voice, low and steady, repeating in my head…

There are things you sacrifice.

And the terrifying part? I was beginning to believe him.