Abby’s POV
Just then, my phone buzzed in my pocket.
A text message.
Matteo: I’m at the gate.
My heart did a little flip.
I turned and hurried to the intercom, signaling the guard to open the main gate.
My grandpa looked up from his roses, his expression confused as a sleek, black Maybach purred up the long driveway.
I wanted him to be the first person to know.
He hated Nicholas’s slick, corporate family.
Maybe, just maybe, he’d like Matteo better?
The car stopped.
Matteo stepped out, all tall, dark, and impossibly self-assured, looking completely at ease in the quiet, old-money garden.
My grandpa’s eyes narrowed, his gaze sharp and assessing.
“Grandpa,” I started, “I want you to meet—”
“Matteo Romano,” Grandpa cut in, his voice flat.
He set his shears down and extended a soil-covered hand, not in greeting, but in challenge.
Matteo didn’t hesitate.
He stepped forward, taking my grandfather’s hand in a firm grip, a small, confident smirk playing on his lips.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hayes.”
“The pleasure is mine,” Grandpa rumbled, his eyes raking over Matteo.
Then, without a shred of subtlety, he added, “Aren’t you a little old for my granddaughter?”
A laugh, a real one, bubbled out of me before I could stop it.
I swatted my grandpa’s arm.
“Grandpa,” I said, my voice dripping with fake admonishment.
“Be nice.”
Grandpa’s gaze bored into me, a thousand questions unspoken but demanding answers.
Now or never.
I stepped forward and deliberately held up my left hand, the new, heavy ring catching the sunlight.
“I just got married. To him.”
I hooked a thumb toward Matteo.
“Last night.”
The color drained from my grandfather’s face.
The shears in his hand clattered onto the stone path.
“A… what?” His voice was a hoarse croak.
“We just got married last night,” I repeated, my voice firm.
To emphasize the point, I stepped right next to Matteo, grabbed his arm, and looped mine through it, clinging to him.
My grandpa couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.
His eyes darted from me, to Matteo, back to me, and then back to Matteo, as if his brain was refusing to connect the dots.
“You’ve got to be kidding me, Abigail Hayes Sinclair.”
He used my full name.
His forehead creased, his eyes searching my face, begging me to say it’s a prank or just kidding!
But nothing came out of my mouth.
I just stared back at him, my expression perfectly serious.
“Are you for real?” he demanded, his gaze finally snapping to Matteo.
“And you? You agreed to this?”
Matteo, the bastard, just smiled.
That slow, infuriatingly confident smile.
“Yes, Mr. Hayes,” he said, his voice smooth as silk.
“How could I resist such a charming woman?”
My grandpa actually stumbled back a step, almost tripping over the plant he’d just dropped.
He gasped, his mind finally catching up.
“When?!” he sputtered, his voice rising.
“When did you two get married? Are you two in love? When did you two even get along?! I thought you hated the Romanos, Abby! Why in God’s name would you marry your ex-fiancé’s enemy?!”
I could see the gears turning in my grandpa’s head, the anger and shock being replaced by sharp, shrewd calculation.
He let out a long sigh, scrubbing a hand over his face.
He looked at Matteo, then at me.
“Well,” he finally grumbled, “I understand why it was so sudden. You wanted to escape the marriage with Nicholas.” He nodded, his expression hardening.
“And I support you on that, Abby. Wholeheartedly.”
He paused, his eyes narrowing.
“But I think you’d better not make any public announcements. Not yet. Your issue with Nicholas is still all over the news. You’d better let that cool down before you add more fire, right?”
He then turned his full, intimidating attention to Matteo, who was standing there silently, letting me handle it.
Grandpa pointed a stern, dirt-caked finger at the much taller man.
“And you,” he said, in the tone he used to use on me when I broke a vase.
“Matteo. I don’t know how my granddaughter persuaded you into this circus… but I’m not an idiot. I know this marriage is pure business.”
A wave of relief, so strong it almost made me dizzy, washed over me.
He gets it.
I smiled at my grandpa, a real, genuine smile.
“I’m so glad you understand, Grandpa. That’s why I wanted you to be the first to know. I knew you wouldn’t judge me.”
Matteo, who had been listening silently, finally spoke.
His voice was quiet, but it was a vow.
“I will protect her, Mr. Hayes. Always. So, you don’t have to worry about your grand daughter… she will be always safe with me….”
My head snapped up, my eyes landing on his profile as he looked at my grandfather.
A strange, sharp sorrow pierced through me.
No man has ever said that to me.
Not my father.
Not Nicholas, who was supposed to love me.
They had only ever seen me as a tool, a pawn, or a prize.
But this man, this stranger I’d married out of desperation, had just made that promise to the one person who mattered most to me, and he’d done it without a trace of doubt.
Where were you, Matteo?
How did I never really see you before?