She Begged a Ruthless Mafia Boss to Pretend to Be Her Husband, but His Answer Changed Her Life Forever
Penelope opened her mouth.
Bradley answered first.
“We’re old friends. Just having a little joke.”
“I wasn’t asking you.”
Something in Matteo’s voice made Bradley step backward.
Penelope should have thanked the stranger and returned to work.
Instead, her gaze met Bradley’s.
She saw the old familiar smirk returning.
The silent promise that he would humiliate her again at the wedding.
Perhaps it was exhaustion.
Perhaps it was anger.
Or perhaps she had finally reached the limit of what she could bear.
She crossed the room and caught Matteo’s sleeve.
“Actually,” she said, her voice shaking, “I’m glad you’re here.”
Matteo looked at her hand.
Bradley laughed.
“Oh, this should be good.”
Penelope swallowed.
“Can you pretend to be my husband?”
Silence.
Her cheeks burned.
She realized instantly how insane she sounded.
“I mean, just for a minute. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“Forever.”
Matteo said it so calmly that for a moment she wondered whether she had imagined the word.
Then his arm settled around her waist.
“Is there a problem with my wife, Mr. Jenkins?”
Bradley’s mouth fell open.
“Your wife?”
“Yes.”
“But—she—”
“You appear confused.”
Matteo tilted his head.
“I can arrange for someone to explain the situation more clearly.”
Bradley backed toward the doors.
“No. No problem.”
“Good.”
His gaze sharpened.
“And if you insult her again, you and I will have a much less pleasant conversation.”
Bradley left so quickly that he nearly collided with a passing waiter.
Penelope stepped away immediately.
“Oh my God.”
She covered her face.
“I am so sorry.”
Matteo said nothing.
“I didn’t mean to drag you into that. I know you’re an important guest, and that was completely unprofessional.”
“Penelope.”
She stopped.
He knew her name.
“Look at me.”
She reluctantly raised her eyes.
“Does that man speak to you like that often?”
Her embarrassment deepened.
“He’s my ex-fiancé.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
She looked toward the door.
“Sometimes.”
“How long?”
“Two years.”
Matteo’s jaw tightened.
“Two years,” he repeated.
“It’s complicated.”
“Cruelty usually becomes less complicated when you stop making excuses for the person responsible.”
The unexpected kindness nearly broke her composure.
She forced a smile.
“Well, thank you for helping. I promise you won’t have to see me again.”
She turned.
“Penelope.”
She stopped once more.
“Are you attending your sister’s wedding on Saturday?”
She frowned.
“How did you know about that?”
“Mr. Jenkins mentioned it.”
“Oh. Right.”
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
She gave him an embarrassed look.
“Apparently that’s a major crime.”
Matteo studied her.
Then he said something even more astonishing than his earlier declaration.
“I’ll accompany you.”
Penelope laughed.
He didn’t.
Her laughter died.
“You’re serious?”
“Entirely.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“I know you run this hotel with extraordinary efficiency. I know your staff respects you. And I know you maintained your dignity while a man deliberately tried to take it from you.”
“That doesn’t make me wife material.”
“Who told you that?”
She looked away.
Matteo’s voice became quieter.
“Bradley?”
The fact that she couldn’t answer seemed to answer him.
He reached into his jacket and removed a business card.
“Dinner tonight. Seven o’clock. My office.”
She glanced at the card.
“Why?”
“Because you need someone beside you at a wedding.”
“And what do you need?”
For the first time, a genuine smile touched his mouth.
“An excellent question.”
Matteo Duca’s private office occupied the top floor of a building overlooking the Chicago River.
Penelope arrived at seven precisely, wearing a navy wrap dress and carrying a handbag she had purchased on sale three years earlier.
A security guard escorted her upstairs.
She passed a corridor lined with expensive artwork and entered an enormous office with floor-to-ceiling windows.
Matteo stood beside a table set for two.
“You came.”
“I almost didn’t.”
“Why?”
“Because normal people don’t accept dinner invitations from strangers who pretend to be their husbands.”
He smiled.
“I’m beginning to see why your hotel runs so smoothly.”
Dinner was unexpectedly comfortable.
Matteo asked about her job, her family, and the disaster at the hotel’s charity gala the previous winter.
Penelope found herself telling him stories she rarely shared.
About a celebrity chef who arrived without his knives.
About a bride who demanded that all flowers face east.
About the elderly couple who renewed their vows after fifty-eight years of marriage and insisted that the hotel serve the same inexpensive chocolate cake they had eaten at their first wedding.
Matteo listened.
Really listened.
Not once did he check his phone.
Not once did his eyes drift toward someone more important.
Eventually, coffee arrived.
Matteo set down his cup.
“I have a proposal.”
Penelope smiled warily.
“That sounds dangerous coming from you.”
“It might be.”
Her smile disappeared.
“I need to improve my public image,” he continued. “A number of people have decided that my business interests deserve more scrutiny than those of my competitors.”
“Because of the rumors?”
His eyes held hers.
“You’ve heard them.”
“Everyone has.”
“And what do you believe?”
“I believe rumors don’t appear out of nowhere.”
He seemed impressed.
“Good. Don’t ever become a woman who believes everything a powerful man tells her.”
Penelope folded her hands.
“Then tell me what you’re proposing.”
“A public relationship. Three months. You’ll accompany me to events. I’ll attend your sister’s wedding. We will appear married.”
“Appear married?”
“A private ceremony can be represented to our social circle as something that has already occurred. No forged documents. No legal marriage.”
“And afterward?”
“We separate amicably.”
Penelope stared at him.
“You want a fake wife.”
“I want a partner in a public arrangement.”
“That sounds like a fake wife with better marketing.”
He laughed.
It was a surprisingly warm sound.
She looked at the river.
“Why me?”
He could have told her the entire truth.
That her name had appeared in a folder on his desk three weeks earlier.
That someone close to him had secretly obtained an events calendar from the Drake Hotel.
That the people hunting him were becoming dangerously interested in hotel staff.
And that when he recognized Penelope Hayes in the lounge, he realized she might already be closer to his enemies than she knew.
Instead, he offered only part of the truth.
“Because I trust your judgment.”
“You met me this afternoon.”
“Sometimes an afternoon tells you more than a decade.”
Penelope considered the proposal.
Then she surprised him.
“I have conditions.”
“Of course.”
“I keep my job. I keep my apartment. You don’t interfere with my family or make decisions for me.”
“Agreed.”
“And you don’t touch me unless I say it’s okay.”
Matteo inclined his head.
“Absolutely.”
“One more thing.”
“Yes?”
“If you’re involved in anything that could put innocent people in danger, I want to know.”
His expression changed.
It was brief.
But she saw it.
“Penelope—”
“I don’t want a fairy tale. I want the truth.”
Matteo leaned back.
“I’m not an innocent man.”
Her pulse quickened.
“I’ve done things I’m not proud of. I’ve made decisions that hurt people. And there are men in this city who would gladly destroy me.”
“Are you asking me to become part of that?”
“No.”
“Then why would I agree?”
He looked at her for a long moment.
“Because I think you’re tired of letting Bradley Jenkins decide how the world sees you.”
That struck too close to the truth.
Penelope stared at her coffee.
“And because,” Matteo added, “for three months, we might both get a chance to be someone different.”
She extended her hand.
“Three months.”
He shook it.
“Three months.”
Neither mentioned that the first person to break the agreement might be the man who had suggested it.
By Friday evening, Penelope’s life had become unrecognizable.
Matteo’s attorney prepared a written agreement. It protected her employment and personal property, prohibited any requirement to participate in his businesses, and allowed her to end the arrangement whenever she wished.
The marriage itself would be purely a public fiction.
Matteo insisted on one additional provision.
If her safety was threatened because of their association, he would pay for independent protection and provide whatever evidence he possessed to the appropriate authorities.
Penelope read that sentence twice.
“Why would I need protection?”
His answer was carefully measured.
“I attract attention.”
“That doesn’t make me feel better.”
“It shouldn’t.”
Saturday morning arrived with clear skies over Chicago.
Penelope stood in Matteo’s penthouse bedroom, staring at a dark emerald evening gown hanging beside the mirror.
A stylist named Claire had delivered several dresses earlier that day.
Penelope had tried on four.
Every one fit beautifully.
That alone nearly made her cry.
For years she had associated formal clothes with humiliation.
Dresses that pinched.
Salespeople who looked apologetic.
Bradley’s disappointed expression whenever she stepped out of a fitting room.
This dress was different.
Its neckline framed her shoulders, the fitted waist emphasized her curves, and the elegant skirt moved effortlessly when she walked.
She looked like herself.
Not a smaller woman.
Not a corrected version.
Herself.
Matteo knocked before entering.
“May I?”
“Yes.”
He stopped in the doorway.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Penelope nervously adjusted the fabric over her stomach.
“Is it too much?”
“No.”
“Too tight?”
“No.”
“Matteo, you’re not helping.”
He approached slowly.
“You’re breathtaking.”
Her face warmed.
“That’s a very generous compliment.”
“It wasn’t generosity.”
He offered a small velvet box.
Inside was a beautiful diamond ring.
Penelope’s eyes widened.
“Absolutely not.”
“What?”
“I cannot wear something worth more than my annual salary.”
“It belongs to my family.”
“That makes it worse.”
“My grandmother wore it.”
Her expression softened.
“Really?”
He nodded.
“She was the only person in my childhood who told me I didn’t have to become my father.”
Penelope looked up.
“What was your father like?”
Matteo closed the box.
“A man who confused fear with respect.”
For a moment, something wounded crossed his face.
Then it vanished.
He offered her the ring again.
“Would you wear it tonight?”
She hesitated.
“Only tonight.”
“Of course.”
He slipped it onto her finger.
Their eyes met.
Neither moved.
And for one foolish heartbeat, Penelope wished the ring meant exactly what everyone would believe it meant.
Madison’s wedding took place at a beautiful private garden estate north of the city.
White roses climbed over an outdoor archway. A string quartet performed beneath the trees. Hundreds of guests filled the reception pavilion.
When Penelope arrived beside Matteo Duca, conversations stopped.
Her mother nearly dropped her champagne.
“Penelope?”
“Hi, Mom.”
Eleanor stared at Matteo.
“And you are?”
“Matteo Duca. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
He shook her hand.
Eleanor looked at the ring.
Then at Penelope.
Then at the ring again.
“Penny?”
Penelope forced a smile.
“Surprise.”
“You’re married?”
“It’s a long story.”
Her mother pressed a hand against her chest.
“You got married without telling me?”
“Mom, it’s Madison’s day. We can talk later.”
Matteo spoke smoothly.
“We wanted to keep things private, Mrs. Hayes.”
Eleanor looked between them.
Then her face brightened.
“Well, you’re certainly handsome.”
“Mom!”
“What? I have eyes.”
For the first time that afternoon, Penelope laughed.
Across the room, Bradley Jenkins was not laughing.
He stood beside Lauren, his perfectly styled girlfriend, staring at Matteo with unmistakable alarm.
Andrew approached his older brother.
“What’s wrong?”
Bradley swallowed.
“Do you know who that is?”
Andrew glanced toward Penelope.
“Her new husband, apparently.”
“That’s Matteo Duca.”
“So?”
Bradley stared at him.
“You really don’t know anything, do you?”
Before Andrew could answer, Madison hurried toward her sister.
“Penny!”
She hugged her tightly.
Then she stepped back.
“Oh my God. You look incredible.”
“You look beautiful too.”
Madison’s eyes filled with tears.
“I’m so glad you’re here.”
Penelope squeezed her hand.
“Of course I’m here. You’re my sister.”
Madison glanced toward Matteo.
“So… we’re definitely discussing this later.”
Penelope laughed again.
For the next hour, she almost forgot the arrangement wasn’t real.
Matteo introduced her as his wife without hesitation.
He pulled out her chair.
He asked whether she was comfortable.
When a photographer approached, he rested a hand lightly at her waist and waited until she leaned toward him before drawing her closer.
It was all pretend.
She repeated that to herself whenever his fingers brushed hers.
It became harder when dinner began.
Bradley rose from his table and approached.
“Penny.”
Matteo looked up.
“Mr. Jenkins.”
Bradley’s eyes flickered toward the ring.
“So this is the mysterious husband.”
“Yes,” Penelope answered.
“Funny. Nobody knew you were dating.”
“Most people don’t issue press releases about their relationships.”
A few nearby guests laughed.
Bradley’s face reddened.
“I just find the timing interesting.”
Matteo placed his glass on the table.
“Do you?”
“Three months ago she was single, and now she’s married to one of the richest men in the city.”
Penelope felt the familiar tightening in her throat.
Bradley smiled unpleasantly.
“Quite an upgrade for someone who used to cry because she couldn’t fit into a wedding dress.”
The table went silent.
Penelope closed her eyes.
There it was.
The humiliation she had been expecting.
Before Matteo could speak, she stood.
“No.”
Bradley blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“No more.”
Her hands were shaking, but her voice was clear.
“You don’t get to do this anymore.”
“Penny, relax.”
“My name is Penelope.”
He stared at her.
“You don’t get to insult my body, mock my relationships, or embarrass me in front of my family because your ego can’t tolerate the possibility that I might be happy without you.”
His expression hardened.
“You really think this man loves you?”
Penelope’s breath caught.
Bradley saw it.
He smiled.
“Come on. Be serious. Look at him. Then look at yourself.”
Matteo rose.
The movement was quiet.
Yet Bradley immediately stepped backward.
“You should leave,” Matteo said.
Bradley attempted a laugh.
“Or what?”
“Or you’ll discover how embarrassing it is to be escorted out of your own brother’s wedding.”
Matteo glanced toward the venue manager.
“Please ask security to assist Mr. Jenkins if necessary.”
Bradley looked around.
People were watching.
For once, no one seemed amused by him.
His girlfriend turned away.
Andrew appeared behind him, furious.
“Bradley. Enough.”
Bradley muttered something and walked toward the bar.
Penelope remained standing.
Her face was hot.
She wanted to sit down.
She wanted to disappear.
Then Madison reached her.
“Penny,” her sister whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Penelope shook her head.
“You didn’t do anything.”
“Yes, I did.”
Madison’s eyes shone.
“I spent two years pretending his comments were harmless because I didn’t want things to be awkward with Andrew’s family.”
Penelope looked at her.
Madison took her hand.
“You didn’t deserve any of it.”
Something inside Penelope loosened.
Not completely.
But enough for her to breathe.
Matteo held out his hand.
“Would you dance with me?”
She glanced toward the guests.
“Everyone’s watching.”
“Then let them see a woman who has nothing to apologize for.”
She took his hand.
The orchestra began a slow song.
Beneath the soft lights, Matteo held her carefully, leaving her enough space to move comfortably.
“You were magnificent,” he murmured.
“I almost cried.”
“You can cry and still be brave.”
She looked up at him.
“Do you always know what to say?”
“No.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
His thumb brushed her hand.
“Penelope, there’s something I need to tell you.”
His expression had changed.
She noticed it immediately.
“What is it?”
He glanced toward the pavilion entrance.
A man in a dark suit stood beside the garden gate, speaking urgently into his phone.
Matteo’s security chief, Leo Mercer, appeared a moment later.
His face was grim.
“Matteo,” Leo said. “We have a problem.”
A sharp cracking sound split the air.
One of the windows shattered.
Then another.
Screams erupted.
Matteo grabbed Penelope and pulled her behind a stone pillar.
“Get down!”
A second later, the beautiful wedding dissolved into chaos.
And Penelope discovered that pretending to be Matteo Duca’s wife was far more dangerous than she had ever imagined.
The first thing Penelope heard was her sister screaming.
The second was Matteo’s voice.
“Stay behind me.”
A third shot shattered a lantern near the reception entrance.
Guests dropped beneath tables. Glass scattered across the floor. Someone knocked over the champagne tower.
Penelope couldn’t move.
The beautiful music had stopped.
Madison’s wedding dress was visible near the garden stairs, where Andrew was helping her crawl behind a wall.
“Matteo,” Penelope whispered, “my sister—”
“Leo has eyes on her.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I told him to.”
She stared at him.
His face was terrifyingly calm.
He pressed a hand against his ear.
“Leo, secure the south exit. Civilians first.”
A voice answered through a concealed earpiece.
Penelope could barely hear it.
More shouting came from outside.
Then the gunfire stopped.
The sudden silence seemed more frightening.
Matteo looked toward the garden.
“Can you run?”
Penelope nodded.
“Good. Take off your heels.”
She obeyed.
He caught her hand.
Together they moved through a narrow service corridor behind the reception pavilion.
Penelope’s heartbeat pounded painfully.
As they reached the parking area, she saw black SUVs pulling onto the gravel road.
Men in dark suits were helping frightened guests toward the main building.
Leo appeared beside the nearest vehicle.
“Three attackers,” he reported. “Two escaped. One’s being held by venue security. Police are on the way.”
“Anyone hurt?”
“A waiter. Possibly one guest. Medical help is coming.”
Penelope’s stomach turned.
“All this because of you?”
Matteo didn’t answer.
That frightened her more than anything.
He guided her into the SUV.
She pulled away from him.
“No.”
He turned.
“Penelope—”
“No. My sister is back there.”
“Leo will make sure—”
“I don’t care what Leo will do! That’s my sister!”
Her voice broke.
“And this is her wedding.”
Matteo stared at her.
For the first time since the shooting began, something like shame appeared in his expression.
He looked at Leo.
“Confirm Madison and Andrew are safe. Now.”
Leo stepped away to make a call.
Penelope pressed her hands over her mouth.
She was shaking.
Everything had happened so quickly.
The flowers.
The dancing.
Bradley’s cruel smile.
Then the gunshots.
Matteo removed his jacket and draped it around her shoulders.
She hadn’t realized she was cold.
“Penelope.”
She shook her head.
“Please don’t tell me everything is okay.”
He crouched beside the open door.
“I won’t.”
“People could have died.”
“I know.”
“Because someone wanted to hurt you.”
His jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
Her eyes filled.
“You said I wouldn’t be part of your business.”
“You aren’t.”
“Then what do you call this?”
He had no answer.
Leo returned.
“Madison and Andrew are safe. Mrs. Hayes is with them. Everyone from the immediate family has been accounted for.”
Penelope closed her eyes.
Relief nearly collapsed her.
Matteo stood.
“Take us somewhere secure.”
As the SUV moved through the gates, Penelope looked back at the wedding venue.
Police cars were arriving.
Guests stood beneath the trees, wrapped in borrowed coats.
The beautiful white roses were scattered across the pavement.
Her sister’s wedding was ruined.
And Penelope knew, with dreadful certainty, that her three-month arrangement was about to become something neither of them could control.
The house in Lake Forest sat behind tall iron gates and a long driveway lined with trees.
It was beautiful.
It was enormous.
And Penelope hated it immediately.
She was escorted into a sitting room where someone had already prepared tea and blankets.
Matteo remained near the door, speaking with Leo in a low voice.
Penelope caught only fragments.
“…tracked the guest list.”
“…inside information.”
“…someone confirmed the arrival time.”
Her blood went cold.
She set down her cup.
“What did you say?”
The men stopped speaking.
Matteo looked at her.
“Penelope—”
“Someone knew when we’d arrive?”
He didn’t answer quickly enough.
She stood.
“Who?”
Leo glanced at Matteo.
Matteo dismissed him with a small motion.
Once they were alone, Penelope crossed her arms.
“You promised me the truth.”
“I know.”
“Then tell me.”
Matteo rubbed a hand over his face.
“There is a man named Victor Rusk. He operates several illegal shipping routes on the South Side. My father worked with his family years ago.”
“Worked how?”
“Smuggling. Extortion. Things I should have ended long before now.”
Penelope stared at him.
“You’re involved?”
“I inherited more than legitimate companies.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“Yes,” he said quietly. “I’ve been involved.”
She felt sick.
Matteo continued.
“Over the past year I’ve been separating my legal businesses from the criminal operations. It’s been slow, and not everyone wants the arrangement to end.”
“Victor?”
“He believes I’m leaving him exposed.”
“And he sent people to shoot at a wedding?”
“I believe so.”
Penelope backed away.
“Then you knew something like this could happen.”
“I knew there was danger. I didn’t know he would attack a civilian event.”
Her eyes blazed.
“You brought that danger to my sister.”
“I did.”
The admission surprised her.
She had expected excuses.
Anger.
A lecture about how the world worked.
Instead, Matteo stood there looking like a man who had finally heard the truth spoken aloud.
“You should never have been pulled into this,” he said.
Penelope laughed bitterly.
“But I was.”
“Yes.”
“You wanted a respectable woman on your arm. Someone ordinary. Someone the newspapers could photograph and say, look, Matteo Duca has changed.”
“That’s not the whole reason.”
“Was it part of the reason?”
He closed his eyes briefly.
“Yes.”
The answer struck harder than a lie.
She looked down at the diamond ring.
Then she pulled it off.
Matteo went still.
“Penelope.”
She placed it on the coffee table.
“I want to go home.”
His expression tightened.
“Not tonight. We don’t know whether the people responsible—”
“I want to go home, Matteo.”
He stared at her.
The silence stretched.
Then he nodded.
“I’ll arrange a secure car. You’re free to leave. But I need to explain something first.”
She said nothing.
“The men who attacked the wedding knew my movements precisely. That means someone provided information.”
“Who?”
“We’re investigating.”
“Bradley?”
Matteo hesitated.
Penelope’s heart sank.
“What?”
“Leo obtained preliminary security footage. Bradley left the reception approximately eleven minutes before the shooting. He made a phone call near the service entrance.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“No.”
“But you think it does.”
“I think we need to know who he called.”
Penelope stared at the floor.
Bradley was cruel.
Arrogant.
Selfish.
But capable of arranging an attack that might kill his own brother?
She couldn’t imagine it.
Then she remembered how Bradley had looked at Matteo.
The anger.
The humiliation.
The vicious need to win.
A terrible thought entered her mind.
“What if he didn’t know what they were planning?”
Matteo’s expression darkened.
“That is possible.”
She pressed a trembling hand to her forehead.
“I need to speak to Madison.”
“I’ll arrange it.”
“No. I’ll call her myself.”
She walked into the adjoining room.
Matteo watched her go.
Only after the door closed did he allow himself to lean against the wall.
His shoulder hurt.
During the escape, a piece of shattered glass had cut through his jacket and into his upper arm.
The wound was minor.
He barely noticed it.
What he noticed was the ring lying on the coffee table.
For years, people had feared losing his approval.
His money.
His protection.
His power.
Penelope Hayes was the first person who had walked away from all of it because she believed something mattered more.
And the realization left him feeling poorer than he had ever felt in his life.
Penelope returned to her apartment the next afternoon.
She insisted on going back to work Monday.
Matteo did not argue.
He provided information about the continuing threat and offered independent security. She accepted a discreet protective service only after confirming it would operate under her instructions and could be dismissed once the danger passed.
She also contacted the investigators handling the wedding attack and gave a complete account of what she had witnessed.
She told them about Matteo.
About the arrangement.
About Bradley.
Everything.
She wasn’t going to spend the rest of her life protecting a lie.
On Monday morning, she entered the Drake Hotel wearing her usual tailored trousers, a cream blouse, and the red coat she had bought after her breakup.
Her assistant, Emily Carter, rushed toward her.
“Penny!”
Emily hugged her.
“I saw the news. Are you okay?”
“I’m trying to be.”
“The wedding was on every channel.”
“I know.”
Emily lowered her voice.
“And the stories about Mr. Duca?”
Penelope forced a smile.
“Also complicated.”
Emily studied her face.
“Do you need time off?”
“No. I need something normal.”
“Well, the Richardson wedding wants to replace their entire floral design with forty-eight hours’ notice.”
Penelope exhaled.
“Perfect.”
For the next three days, she buried herself in work.
And for three days, Matteo didn’t call.
He sent one message.
I am sorry for what happened. I will respect your decision. If you need anything related to your safety, Leo can coordinate with the independent team.
She read it seven times.
Then she put her phone away.
On Thursday, Madison arrived at the hotel.
She looked exhausted.
Her honeymoon had been canceled while police interviewed the wedding guests.
She found Penelope alone in her office.
“Can we talk?”
Penelope stood.
“Of course.”
Madison closed the door.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Madison burst into tears.
“I’m sorry.”
Penelope moved toward her.
“Madison—”
“No, please. Let me say this.”
Her sister wiped her face.
“I knew Bradley was horrible to you. I knew it, Penny. I heard the comments, and I acted like you were overreacting because I was afraid of making things difficult with Andrew.”
Penelope’s throat tightened.
“I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.”
“But I did.”
Madison looked at her.
“And when those men started shooting, all I could think was that I might never get to tell you how sorry I am.”
Penelope pulled her into a hug.
They held each other for a long time.
When Madison finally stepped back, her face was serious.
“There’s something else.”
Penelope immediately sensed trouble.
“What?”
“Andrew went through Bradley’s things.”
“Why?”
“Because Bradley has been acting strange since the wedding. He won’t answer calls. He’s staying somewhere downtown.”
Penelope frowned.
“Okay.”
“Andrew found a printed guest list in Bradley’s study.”
“That’s not unusual. He’s the groom’s brother.”
Madison swallowed.
“There were notes beside certain names.”
“What kind of notes?”
“One said ‘Duca, arrival 6:45.’ Another said ‘east entrance.’”
Penelope went cold.
Madison began crying again.
“Andrew gave it to the investigators.”
Penelope sat down heavily.
For two years, she had believed Bradley’s cruelty was limited to words.
Now she wondered how badly she had underestimated him.
That night, Matteo received an unexpected visitor.
It was not Victor Rusk.
It was Andrew Jenkins.
The younger man arrived at Matteo’s office carrying a folder and looking like he hadn’t slept in days.
Matteo’s security staff escorted him upstairs.
Andrew refused the offered chair.
“I need to know whether my brother caused what happened.”
Matteo studied him.
“I don’t have a complete answer.”
Andrew’s face twisted.
“I’m not asking you to protect him.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“Good.”
He placed the folder on the desk.
“These are copies of messages and financial records Bradley left on a shared family computer.”
Matteo opened it.
Several messages came from an unidentified number.
The first had been sent two weeks before the wedding.
Your brother is having a large event. We need a private introduction to Duca.
The second had arrived on the day Penelope publicly appeared with Matteo.
Can you confirm his attendance?
Bradley’s reply was short.
Absolutely. I’ll send details.
A third message contained the words that made Matteo’s stomach turn.
He embarrassed me. Make sure he remembers who put him in that room.
Below it was a response.
Understood. Your debt is settled.
Matteo closed the folder.
“Your brother owed them money?”
Andrew nodded miserably.
“Gambling. Investments that went bad. I don’t know the full amount.”
“Did you know?”
“No.”
“Did he know they intended to use violence?”
Andrew’s eyes filled.
“I don’t know.”
Matteo turned toward the windows.
For years, he would have handled a betrayal like this without hesitation.
Men who endangered his family disappeared.
It was the rule he had inherited.
The rule his father had taught him.
But this time, the woman he loved was connected to the man responsible.
And more importantly, Penelope had made something painfully clear.
She would not accept violence as proof of devotion.
Matteo turned back.
“Have you given the originals to the investigators?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Andrew stared at him.
“That’s it?”
“What else would you like me to do?”
“I thought you’d…”
He stopped.
Matteo understood.
“You thought I’d have your brother killed.”
Andrew looked ashamed.
Matteo leaned against his desk.
“Three years ago, you might have been right.”
“What’s changed?”
Matteo thought of a woman in an emerald dress, standing in front of an entire wedding reception and telling Bradley Jenkins that he no longer had power over her.
“Someone reminded me that power isn’t the same thing as justice.”
The next morning, Bradley Jenkins was arrested.
He was questioned in connection with the attack, and investigators examined his communications with associates of Victor Rusk.
Within days, further evidence established that he had exchanged information about Matteo’s movements in return for the cancellation of a substantial gambling debt.
Bradley maintained that he had expected intimidation, not gunfire.
Whether that claim was true remained disputed.
But it didn’t erase what he had done.
He had knowingly passed private information to dangerous men at a crowded family celebration.
And innocent people had been hurt.
The injured waiter, a twenty-six-year-old father named Daniel Reed, spent nine days recovering from a bullet wound to his leg.
A guest suffered permanent hearing damage.
Madison experienced nightmares.
Andrew temporarily moved out of their apartment, overwhelmed by guilt over his brother’s involvement.
Their family had been changed forever.
Penelope watched the news from her living room.
There was no satisfaction in Bradley’s ruined life.
Only sadness.
She thought of the young woman she had been when she agreed to marry him.
The wedding she had imagined.
The children they had talked about.
She had once believed losing him was the worst thing that could happen to her.
Now she understood that the worst thing would have been spending her life trying to earn love from a man who enjoyed making her feel small.
She turned off the television.
Then her phone rang.
It was a number she didn’t recognize.
“Hello?”
“Miss Hayes?”
“Yes?”
“My name is Nora Whitcomb. I’m an attorney representing Matteo Duca.”
Penelope’s heart began beating faster.
“Is he all right?”
“He’s safe. But there are developments I believe you should hear directly.”
“What developments?”
A pause.
“Mr. Duca has agreed to provide evidence concerning criminal operations associated with businesses under his control.”
Penelope sat very still.
“You mean he’s cooperating with investigators?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I think he would prefer to explain that himself.”
Penelope met Matteo two days later.
Not at his penthouse.
Not in a luxury restaurant.
Not somewhere surrounded by security guards and expensive furniture.
They met at a small café near Lincoln Square.
He arrived wearing jeans, a dark sweater, and a wool coat.
For the first time since she’d known him, he looked almost ordinary.
Almost.
He stood when she entered.
“Penelope.”
“Matteo.”
They looked at each other awkwardly.
Then she sat down.
He waited.
Finally, she spoke.
“Your attorney called me.”
“I asked her to.”
“Is it true?”
“Yes.”
“You’re giving evidence against Victor?”
“Against Victor and several men who worked for me.”
She stared.
“People who worked for you?”
“Yes.”
“What about yourself?”
He held her gaze.
“I’ve agreed to disclose my own involvement too.”
Penelope’s breath caught.
“You could go to prison.”
“I know.”
“Why would you do that?”
He looked down at his hands.
“Because when I saw those people running at your sister’s wedding, I realized I had become exactly the kind of man I always claimed to hate.”
Penelope said nothing.
“My father taught me that fear keeps people loyal. That a man protects his family by becoming more dangerous than anyone who threatens them.”
His voice roughened.
“I believed him for years.”
He looked at her.
“Then I met a woman who stood up to me without raising her voice.”
Penelope’s eyes burned.
“You think this fixes everything?”
“No.”
“People were hurt, Matteo.”
“I know.”
“Daniel Reed may never walk without pain again.”
“I know.”
“My sister still wakes up screaming.”
His expression tightened.
“I know.”
She wiped a tear away angrily.
“I care about you. And I hate that I do.”
Matteo’s face changed.
For a second, the controlled businessman disappeared.
“Penelope—”
“No. You need to hear this.”
She leaned forward.
“I don’t want to be the excuse you use for becoming a better man. If you change, it has to be because you understand what you’ve done.”
He nodded.
“You’re right.”
“And I won’t spend my life waiting for you to decide whether honesty is convenient.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to.”
A tear slid down her cheek.
He looked as though he wanted to reach for her.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he quietly said, “I love you.”
Penelope froze.
There it was.
The confession she had wanted to hear at the wedding.
The words she had imagined while staring at his grandmother’s ring.
She had dreamed he would say them somewhere beautiful.
Perhaps beside the lake.
Perhaps beneath the lights of the city.
Not in a café where the tables were scratched and the coffee had gone cold.
“I didn’t plan to,” he continued. “And I know love doesn’t excuse what I’ve done.”
His voice broke slightly.
“But I do.”
Penelope covered her mouth.
Matteo swallowed.
“When you asked me to pretend to be your husband, I thought I could give you something you needed and take something useful for myself.”
A bitter smile touched his lips.
“I’ve spent my whole life believing every relationship was a negotiation.”
“And now?”
“Now I would give anything to go back to that hotel lounge and answer you differently.”
She whispered, “What would you say?”
He looked directly into her eyes.
“I’d say yes to standing beside you. But I’d tell you the truth about who I was before you ever put your hand in mine.”
Penelope began crying openly.
“I wish you’d done that.”
“So do I.”
They sat in silence.
Finally, she stood.
Matteo rose too.
“Where does that leave us?” he asked.
She looked at him for a long moment.
“I don’t know.”
He nodded.
It was clearly the answer he feared most.
But he accepted it.
Penelope moved toward the door.
Then stopped.
“Matteo?”
“Yes?”
“If you mean what you say, become the man you want to be whether I come back or not.”
His eyes filled with an emotion she had never seen in them before.
“I will.”
And for once, Penelope believed him.
Eleven months later, Penelope Hayes stood in front of a mirror wearing a wedding dress.
But it wasn’t hers.
“Okay,” she said, studying the delicate lace. “Turn around.”
Madison spun slowly.
The dress flowed beautifully around her.
Penelope smiled.
“Perfect.”
Madison touched the neckline.
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
Her sister’s eyes filled with tears.
“Penny, I don’t know how to thank you.”
“You could start by not crying on the dress before we’ve taken photographs.”
Madison laughed.
It had been a difficult year.
Following the shooting, she and Andrew had separated for two months.
Andrew carried enormous guilt over Bradley’s actions, although he had not participated in them.
Madison struggled with anxiety.
Their marriage had begun with a traumatic event that neither could easily forget.
Eventually, they sought counseling.
They learned how to discuss fear without blaming each other.
How to disagree without withdrawing.
How to ask for help.
Their relationship wasn’t perfect.
But it was stronger.
And now, almost a year after the wedding that ended in gunfire, they were preparing to renew their vows in a quiet lakeside ceremony with twenty close friends and relatives.
No enormous reception.
No hundreds of guests.
No expensive champagne tower.
Just family.
Love.
And the possibility of beginning again.
Penelope adjusted the veil.
“You look beautiful.”
Madison smiled.
“So do you.”
Penelope laughed.
“I’m wearing a pantsuit.”
“An amazing pantsuit.”
She was.
Cream-colored, perfectly tailored, and paired with gold earrings.
Penelope no longer dressed to hide.
She dressed because she liked how clothes made her feel.
In the past year, she had received a promotion and taken over the hotel’s entire events department.
She had also begun volunteering with a local nonprofit that helped women rebuild financial independence after controlling relationships.
Sometimes she spoke about her own experience.
Not about Matteo.
Not about the shooting.
About Bradley.
About the quiet erosion of confidence.
About how emotional cruelty could disguise itself as concern.
She told women something she wished someone had told her years earlier.
Love should never require you to hate yourself.
Bradley was awaiting sentencing.
He had eventually admitted that he provided information to Victor Rusk’s associates to settle his debt and retaliate against Matteo.
He continued to deny knowing the attack would involve gunfire.
A court would decide the consequences of his crimes based on the evidence and his plea.
His legal career was over.
His relationship with Lauren had ended.
His brother had stopped speaking to him.
Penelope had declined his request for a personal visit.
She had, however, written him one letter.
It was short.
Bradley,
For years, I believed that if I became thinner, quieter, prettier, or more agreeable, you would finally treat me with kindness.
I understand now that my body was never the problem.
The problem was that you needed someone to feel smaller so you could feel important.
I hope you take responsibility for what you’ve done.
I have forgiven myself for believing your cruelty was love.
I won’t be contacting you again.
Penelope.
She mailed the letter without asking anyone to read it first.
Then she went to work.
And for the first time in years, she felt completely free.
Matteo’s life had changed just as dramatically.
His cooperation with investigators had led to the disruption of Victor Rusk’s criminal network.
Several of Matteo’s former associates faced charges.
Some of his businesses were sold.
Others were placed under independent management while financial records were examined.
Matteo surrendered assets connected to unlawful activity and accepted responsibility for his role in the organization.
Because he had provided substantial evidence and agreed to financial restitution, his legal team negotiated a resolution that included court-supervised restrictions, a suspended custodial sentence subject to compliance, and substantial penalties.
The outcome was controversial.
Some people believed he deserved prison.
Others believed dismantling the organization and recovering assets served the public better.
Matteo never claimed he had been unfairly treated.
He followed the court’s requirements.
He sold the Lake Forest estate.
He left his enormous penthouse overlooking Lake Michigan.
And he moved into a quiet house outside Evanston, where the backyard was larger than the living room and the neighbors complained about fallen leaves.
For the first time since childhood, he lived without armed men stationed outside his bedroom.
At first, he hated the silence.
He had spent so many years preparing for betrayal that ordinary peace felt almost threatening.
Some nights, he woke with his heart racing.
Others, he sat at his kitchen table staring at his father’s old photograph.
He eventually began meeting with a counselor.
It was not a dramatic transformation.
There was no miraculous morning when all his guilt disappeared.
Progress was slow.
Often uncomfortable.
But real.
He learned to apologize without expecting forgiveness.
To accept consequences without bargaining.
To understand that protection did not mean ownership.
And that a woman who loved him was still entitled to walk away.
He kept Penelope’s number in his phone.
He never called.
Not because he stopped loving her.
Because she had asked for time.
And this time, he intended to respect what she asked.
On a sunny Saturday in June, Matteo drove to a small restaurant near Lake Michigan.
He was meeting his attorney for lunch.
Instead, he found a familiar woman standing outside, struggling with a cardboard box.
She was wearing a cream-colored pantsuit and had her hair pinned loosely at the back of her neck.
He stopped walking.
“Penelope?”
She looked up.
For a moment, neither moved.
Then she smiled.
“Hi, Matteo.”
His chest tightened.
“Hello.”
He glanced at the box.
“Do you need help?”
“Actually, yes.”
He approached.
“What is it?”
“Wedding favors. Madison and Andrew are renewing their vows.”
He looked surprised.
“Today?”
“Tomorrow. I’m dropping these off with the venue coordinator.”
“I’m glad they’re doing well.”
“They are.”
He lifted the box easily.
“Where should I put this?”
“My car. The silver one.”
He carried it across the small parking lot.
Penelope watched him.
He looked different.
Not less handsome.
Not weaker.
Just… lighter.
There were faint lines around his eyes she hadn’t noticed before.
His hair was slightly longer.
He wasn’t wearing a suit.
He looked like a man who had learned that the world would continue turning even when he wasn’t controlling it.
After he placed the box in her trunk, she closed it.
“Thank you.”
“Anytime.”
He hesitated.
Then took a step backward.
“I should go.”
“Matteo.”
He stopped.
“Would you like some coffee?”
For a moment, he simply stared at her.
Then he smiled.
“I would.”
They sat at a little table overlooking the lake.
This time, there were no promises.
No arrangement.
No rings.
No lies.
Penelope asked about his life.
He told her the truth.
About the counseling.
About the penalties.
About the nights he couldn’t sleep.
About the people who still hated him.
And about the restitution fund he had established to support those harmed by the wedding attack and his former operations.
“Daniel Reed?” Penelope asked.
Matteo nodded.
“His rehabilitation and lost income are covered, through the fund. He also received a separate court-approved settlement.”
“Have you spoken to him?”
“Once.”
“What did he say?”
Matteo looked out at the water.
“He said money couldn’t give him back the year he lost.”
Penelope was silent.
“He was right.”
She studied his face.
“You didn’t argue?”
“No.”
That simple answer meant more than any grand speech could have.
After a while, Matteo asked about her work.
She told him about the promotion.
The nonprofit.
Her mother’s new obsession with gardening.
Madison and Andrew’s determination to have a second wedding with absolutely no speeches from Bradley.
They laughed.
It felt strange.
And wonderful.
Eventually, Penelope grew quiet.
“Matteo?”
“Yes?”
“Do you still love me?”
The question seemed to stop time.
He looked at her.
“Yes.”
She took a shaky breath.
“You didn’t even hesitate.”
“I’ve spent eleven months learning how not to make decisions for other people. My feelings aren’t a decision I can make for you.”
Penelope’s eyes filled.
“Have you dated anyone?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I haven’t wanted to.”
She looked down at her hands.
“I tried.”
Matteo went still.
“A man from work asked me to dinner. He was kind. Funny. He brought me flowers.”
Matteo listened.
“I liked him.”
“Good.”
She smiled sadly.
“But I realized I wasn’t ready.”
He nodded.
“I understand.”
Penelope lifted her eyes.
“I didn’t stop loving you either.”
For a moment, Matteo couldn’t speak.
She continued.
“But I don’t want to go back to what we had.”
He swallowed.
“Neither do I.”
“I don’t want bodyguards following me through grocery stores. I don’t want secrets. I don’t want to live in a house where everyone is afraid of upsetting you.”
“I don’t want that life anymore.”
“And I don’t want to be someone’s redemption story.”
Matteo’s voice was steady.
“You aren’t.”
She studied him.
“What am I, then?”
He leaned forward slightly.
“The woman I love.”
Tears shimmered in her eyes.
“And if you don’t choose me,” he added, “you’ll still be the woman I love. That doesn’t entitle me to anything.”
Penelope gave a shaky laugh.
“You really have changed.”
“Some.”
“Only some?”
He smiled.
“I still hate being told I’m wrong.”
She laughed through her tears.
“I remember.”
“But I’m learning to listen.”
She extended her hand across the table.
Matteo looked at it.
Then carefully took it.
They sat like that for a long time.
Not pretending.
Not performing for an audience.
Just two imperfect people trying to decide whether something broken could become something honest.
Finally, Penelope smiled.
“Would you like to take me on a real date?”
Matteo’s eyes widened.
“A date?”
“Yes.”
“With dinner?”
“Preferably.”
“Flowers?”
“Optional.”
He smiled slowly.
“May I kiss you goodnight?”
She laughed.
“Let’s see how dinner goes first.”
Matteo laughed too.
And for the first time since meeting him, Penelope wasn’t afraid of what forever might mean.
Their first real date was a disaster.
Matteo chose an elegant Italian restaurant.
He booked the wrong Friday.
They arrived to discover that every table was taken.
Penelope laughed so hard she nearly cried.
“You used to own half the restaurants in this city!”
“Yes, and apparently none of them taught me how to make a reservation.”
They ended up eating hamburgers at a diner.
Matteo spilled ketchup on his sleeve.
Penelope stole half his fries.
They talked until the staff began cleaning around them.
No one recognized him.
No one stared.
No one cared whether Penelope was a size 20 or whether the man beside her used to be feared.
They were simply a couple on a date.
And it was the happiest either had been in years.
Over the next eighteen months, they built something neither had experienced before.
An ordinary relationship.
Not easy.
Not perfect.
But ordinary in the most beautiful sense.
They argued over furniture.
Over how much garlic belonged in pasta.
Over whether Matteo was allowed to reorganize Penelope’s kitchen drawers.
When he was wrong, he apologized.
When she was afraid, she said so.
They attended counseling together to navigate the history that couldn’t be erased.
They did not pretend his past had vanished.
There were still legal hearings.
Uncomfortable headlines.
People who refused to forgive him.
Penelope accepted that she could love him without demanding that everyone else feel the same.
Matteo learned that love didn’t erase consequences.
And they both discovered that commitment wasn’t proved through extravagant gifts or dramatic promises.
It was proved through ordinary choices, repeated every day.
Two years after they first met, Matteo took Penelope back to the Drake Hotel.
The executive lounge had been renovated.
New furniture.
Fresh paint.
Different artwork.
But the windows still overlooked the same beautiful stretch of Chicago.
Penelope smiled as they entered.
“You’re joking.”
Matteo looked almost nervous.
“Do you recognize it?”
“Of course I recognize it. I ran this floor for six years.”
She glanced around.
“This is where I embarrassed myself in front of the scariest man in the city.”
He smiled.
“You weren’t embarrassing.”
“I asked a complete stranger to pretend to be my husband.”
“And I said yes.”
“You said forever.”
“I remember.”
Penelope studied him.
“What are we doing here?”
Matteo reached into his coat.
Her breath caught.
He withdrew a small velvet box.
Then he did something that would once have seemed impossible.
He knelt.
Not as a king.
Not as a man demanding obedience.
As a man asking a question whose answer he was prepared to respect.
“Penelope Hayes,” he said, his voice rough, “the first time you asked me to be your husband, I thought forever was something I could offer you without understanding what it cost.”
Tears gathered in her eyes.
“I was wrong.”
He opened the box.
Inside was a simple, elegant diamond ring.
Beautiful.
Not extravagant.
Chosen for her.
“I can’t promise I’ll never make another mistake. I can’t promise the past won’t sometimes find its way into our future.”
He swallowed.
“But I can promise to tell you the truth. To respect your choices. To stand beside you when life is difficult, not in front of you as though you can’t stand on your own.”
Penelope covered her mouth.
“I will spend the rest of my life working to be worthy of the trust you give me.”
His eyes glistened.
“Will you marry me?”
She stared at him.
Then she laughed through her tears.
“You’re supposed to ask if I can pretend.”
Matteo smiled.
“Not this time.”
She knelt in front of him.
“Good.”
She cupped his face.
“Because I’m done pretending.”
He whispered, “Is that a yes?”
Penelope kissed him.
“Yes.”
He wrapped his arms around her.
For a moment, neither moved.
Outside, the Chicago River glittered beneath the afternoon sun.
Inside, two people who had once mistaken power for safety and approval for love held each other without fear.
Their wedding took place the following spring.
Forty guests attended.
Madison was the maid of honor.
Andrew stood beside Matteo.
Eleanor cried through the entire ceremony and blamed her allergies.
Daniel Reed attended with his wife and daughter after accepting Penelope’s invitation. He and Matteo exchanged a respectful handshake, though neither pretended their history had become simple.
There were white roses.
A small orchestra.
A chocolate cake from Penelope’s favorite bakery.
And when the officiant asked Matteo whether he promised to love, honor, and respect Penelope, he looked directly into her eyes.
“I do.”
His voice trembled.
Then it was Penelope’s turn.
She looked at the man who had once terrified an entire city.
The man whose past would always be part of his story.
The man who had learned that love was not possession.
That being powerful did not make him right.
And that the greatest gift he could give someone was the freedom to choose him.
“I do,” she whispered.
Matteo closed his eyes.
When the officiant pronounced them husband and wife, Penelope pulled him down by his lapels and kissed him before he could move.
The guests erupted in laughter and applause.
Later that evening, they slipped outside onto the terrace.
The air was cool.
Music drifted through the open doors.
Penelope rested her head against Matteo’s shoulder.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“If I hadn’t grabbed your arm that afternoon, would we ever have met?”
He thought about it.
“Probably.”
She lifted her head.
“Really?”
“You were the best events director in Chicago. I was a demanding hotel guest. Eventually, you would have yelled at me about something.”
She laughed.
“That’s romantic.”
“I try.”
She glanced at her wedding ring.
“Do you ever think about that day?”
“Every day.”
“What part?”
Matteo turned toward her.
“The moment you asked me to pretend.”
“And?”
He smiled.
“I remember thinking you were the bravest woman I’d ever seen.”
Penelope shook her head.
“I was terrified.”
“Bravery and fear aren’t opposites.”
She leaned closer.
“What were you thinking when you said forever?”
He hesitated.
Then answered truthfully.
“I thought it was a clever line. Something that would frighten Bradley and make you smile.”
She laughed softly.
“And now?”
Matteo looked through the windows at their families dancing together.
At Madison laughing with Andrew.
At Eleanor trying to teach Leo the cha-cha.
At the ordinary, imperfect life that had somehow become more valuable to him than everything he once controlled.
“Now,” he said, “I finally understand what I was promising.”
Penelope smiled.
“And what was that?”
He brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“Not that every day would be beautiful.”
He kissed her forehead.
“Not that I’d always have the right answers.”
He took her hand.
“But that I would choose you on the difficult days as surely as I choose you on the easy ones.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“That sounds like a pretty good marriage.”
“I hope so.”
She looked up at him mischievously.
“There’s just one problem.”
His smile faded.
“What?”
“You never actually asked me to be your girlfriend.”
Matteo stared at her.
Then he burst out laughing.
She laughed with him.
He pulled her gently into his arms.
“Penelope Duca, would you consider being my girlfriend?”
She pretended to think.
“I don’t know. My husband might object.”
“He sounds like a difficult man.”
“He used to be.”
“And now?”
She smiled.
“Now he’s the man I love.”
Matteo kissed her.
Inside, the orchestra began another song.
He extended his hand.
“Mrs. Duca, may I have this dance?”
Penelope looked at his outstretched hand.
Two years earlier, she had reached for that same hand because she was desperate to escape humiliation.
She had believed a powerful man might make her valuable in the eyes of someone who had rejected her.
But she had learned something far more important.
She had never needed a husband to make her worthy of love.
She had always been worthy.
Before Bradley.
Before Matteo.
Before the expensive dresses, the diamond rings, and the beautiful wedding.
Her worth had never been something another person could grant or take away.
Matteo had not rescued her from being unlovable.
He had simply learned how to love a woman who was already whole.
Penelope placed her hand in his.
“Forever?” she asked.
Matteo smiled.
“Forever.”
And this time, neither of them was pretending.
THE END
