Chapter 125

Genevieve perched on a cold stone ledge, her gaze sweeping over the expansive flower garden that stretched behind Alessio’s grand estate. The air was thick with the scent of blooming roses and freshly cut grass, but none of it could soothe the turmoil inside her. It had been eight long hours since Matteo had left, and the plane had touched down two hours earlier. She stared down at her phone, her foot tapping nervously against the stone as she waited for the call he was entitled to make by law. Behind her, muffled voices drifted from the living room where at least a dozen people were glued to the television. The screen replayed the grim footage of her husband being escorted off his private jet in handcuffs—a scene that felt surreal and heart-wrenching.

A soft clink drew her attention to her right. Matteo’s cousin, Conor, was holding out a glass of ice water to her. She accepted it with a grateful nod, fully aware that Matteo had instructed both of his cousins to look after her during this nightmare. Conor settled beside her with a heavy sigh, his presence a quiet comfort.

“Have they moved on to the story about the squirrel that waterskis yet?” she asked, attempting a weak smile.

Conor shook his head. “Not a chance. This story’s going to run for days. A business tycoon accused of running a mafia ring? That’s front-page material.”

His grey eyes met hers, and once again, she marveled at how someone so gentle could be related to the two intense Italian men she knew. “How are you holding up?” he asked softly.

Genevieve exhaled slowly, the weight of her worry pressing down. “I just need to hear his voice,” she murmured. “I need to know he’s okay. That he’s not hurt.”

Conor’s gaze drifted over the manicured lawns, his expression somber. It reminded her of the first time she’d met Matteo—when grief had shadowed his every move. “I understand,” he said quietly.