Matteo (The Syndicates series Book 1)

by Cala Riley

  “What,” I bite out.

  “Your bedroom window is open. I climbed up to check it out and saw the girl cuffed to the bed. But it’s getting colder. Did you want me to close it?”

  Tossing back the rest of my scotch, I answer him, “No. I’ve got it. Go back on patrol.”

  I hang up without waiting for his response. Making my way out of the room, I pause before I get to the bedroom door.

  The door is open, unable to be closed after I busted it open. I can already feel the cool air flowing down the hall. Moving back down the hall, I turn the heat up before making my way back to the room. Making a conscious effort not to focus on the bombshell in the middle of the bed, I move to the window to close it. I lock it before making my way to the bathroom where I turn on the shower and begin my nightly routine. I purposely leave the door open as I pretend she’s not there.

  I ignore every huff from her mouth. Every clank of the handcuffs as she fights to get comfortable. I was only in my office thirty minutes, but I know her arms must already be sore. I can’t give in though.

  If she wants to be a brat, I’ll treat her like one. I’ll make her earn every single thing while she’s here.

  Jumping in the shower, I ignore my throbbing dick as I quickly wash the rest of my body. Once done, I wrap a towel around my waist as I brush my teeth before getting ready for bed.

  I turn off the light, making my way back into the room. I’m almost to the side of the bed when I hear her intake of breath.

  “What are you doing?” she squeaks.

  I ignore her, pulling back the blankets to slip in bed beside her. She’s still lying on top of the blankets, but I don’t move to help her. If she wants to be under the blankets, she will have to ask for it. I’m done giving her stuff for free.

  “Do you hear me? I asked you a question,” she demands.

  I ignore her still as I turn off the lamp, plunging us into darkness.

  “Get out of here. You can’t sleep here with me.” She kicks her legs at me, attempting to kick me off the bed.

  I grab her legs before moving my body over hers. I lean in, running my nose along her cheek to her ear.

  She jumps forward, attempting to bite me, but I move fast enough to avoid her teeth.

  “Keep it up, cara. Your fight turns me on.” I press my hard dick into her.

  She freezes under me. “Please don’t. I’ve never…”

  My head hits her shoulder as I realize what she’s saying. She’s never had sex.

  Fuck.

  I need to back off and quick. She doesn’t deserve my brand of kink. She probably doesn’t even know what a kink is.

  “I won’t force myself on you. You have the one promise from me, but keep acting like a petulant child and I’ll keep treating you like one. Now go to sleep.”

  Pushing off of her, I turn over giving her my back. I consider sleeping in the spare room but know that I can’t leave her alone that long. She’s already proven she can’t be trusted.

  After several minutes of silence, her soft voice fills the air. “My arms hurt. Could you please uncuff me? I won’t go anywhere or try to hurt you again.”

  I smile at the question. She’s learning. You catch more flies with honey.

  “I don’t know if I can trust you,” I say as if I’m not going to do it.

  I already know I am. I never want her to be in pain, but sometimes pain serves a purpose. It teaches you a lesson.

  “Please. Maybe keep my hands cuffed, but not to the bed.”

  I pretend to mull over her suggestion, but I’ve already decided what I’m going to do.

  Leaning up and over her, I let one wrist free from the handcuff. She slowly pulls her arms down, rotating them to get the blood flowing with rubbing her wrists.

  I watch her closely for any deceit, but she seems to be resigned to the situation.

  Good.

  She goes to lie back down, but I grab the open handcuff and pull it toward me.

  “Hey,” she protests.

  “I’m not dumb enough to let you sleep next to me without a restraint. You’ve already drawn blood once.”

  “Please don’t cuff me to the bed. That’s painful.”

  “I wasn’t planning on it,” I say, taking the open cuff and wrapping it around my own wrist.

  Tugging on it, it forces her to turn to face me.

  “You’re handcuffing me to yourself?” she asks.

  “Seems to be a good solution. You don’t have your hands held above your head and I can sleep without worrying about you trying to find another weapon.”

  She huffs, “Fine, but keep your sexual deviancies to yourself.”

  I bite back my response. I want to spank her ass for that mouth, but I hold back.

  As we lie in silence, I listen for her breaths to even out. While she never seems to fall in a deep sleep, I’m content when I hear her breathing become more regular, assuring me she is getting some kind of sleep.

  I let myself doze off into a light sleep. What seems like only minutes later, I wake to find Vanessa shivering next to me.

  It’s then I realize she never got under the blankets. While I turned the heat up earlier, I only turned it to sixty-eight. Still chilly for most.

  I softly shake Vanessa, cursing myself when she wakes with a gasp.

  “What? What is it?” She sits up abruptly.

  “You’re cold. Get under the blankets.” I ignore that voice in the back of my head telling me not to comfort her.

  “I don’t know.” She seems hesitant.

  I shrug. “If you want to freeze, that’s up to you. I’m just saying you can get under the blankets.”

  I lie back down. After a moment, she struggles to pull the blanket with one arm from under her, but she manages. Then she sighs as she settles underneath the comforter.

  “This doesn’t mean I like you,” she whispers.

  I feel a smile fill my face. “You don’t have to like me, but you will obey.”

  She harrumphs but stays silent. It’s a start.

  A warm body is pressed up against me. A warm body that is causing my body to have reactions she won’t like once she realizes it.

  My eyes pop open as I stare at the back of Vanessa’s head. At some point, she turned, bringing my left arm over as she pulled her right arm in front of her. I don’t think she even realized she did it.

  Hell, I didn’t realize she did it. I haven’t slept that deeply in a long time. Since before my pops died and I joined the family.

  I can honestly say I’ve never slept with a woman. I’ve fucked plenty, but never stayed over. I’ve never even brought a girl here.

  So to say that this content feeling in my chest is unexpected would be an understatement.

  Vanessa groans, pushing back into me as she tries to stretch.

  I know the moment she realizes the position we are in because she freezes. She pulls away, sitting up.

  “What do you think you’re doing? You promised you wouldn’t do that to me.” She tries to pull farther away, but with her cuffed to me, she can’t get far.

  “I didn’t do anything. You must’ve moved in the middle of the night.” I hold up my hands, which causes her to jerk forward toward me.

  “Stop that. I wouldn’t want to cuddle with you. You kidnapped me,” she is adamant.

  “Maybe you were so comfortable, you let yourself relax for once.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Whatever. I need to go to the bathroom. Can you unlock me now?”

  She looks away, not wanting to meet my eyes. By the slight blush on her cheeks, I’d say that maybe she liked sleeping next to me.

  I would never admit it to her, but I enjoyed sleeping next to her too.

  I unlock the cuffs. She hops off the bed and hustles to the bathroom. I’m right on her heels, stopping her from closing the door.

  “Can’t I pee without an audience?” she asks.

  “You tried to jump out the bedroom window last night. You lost all the trust I had. If
you have to go, then go. I’m not letting you shut the door though.” I cross my arms over my chest as I lean against the now open door.

  She grunts but makes her way to the toilet. She turns back to me, biting her lip, as if she’s lost in thought.

  I let out a deep sigh. “I’ll turn around, but if I hear even one small noise I don’t like…”

  “Understood,” she mutters as I turn around.

  I hear her clothes rustle. After she finishes relieving herself, she flushes the toilet. I wait until I hear the sink turn on before turning around.

  “You can take a shower if you’d like,” I say to her reflection in the mirror.

  Her eyes meet mine as she responds, “While you sit and watch? No thanks. I’ve gone longer than this without a shower. I’ll be fine.”

  “Take a shower. That’s a demand,” I rephrase my previous statement.

  If she’s not willing to accept my help freely, I’ll push her until she submits to it.

  She dries her hands before crossing her arms and turning to me. “You have a thing for making demands. How are you going to make me?”

  I’ve had enough of her bratty attitude. I walk in the bathroom past her, opening the shower before turning on the hot water.

  “What are you doing?” she asks from behind me.

  I don’t respond. She doesn’t get another option to get in on her own.

  Once the water is warm, I turn and grab her. She tries to fight me, but I don’t give an inch. I don’t care if she scratches every part of my body. She is going to learn some respect.

  Stepping back into the shower, I put us both directly under the water, not caring that we are both fully dressed.

  She shrieks, but after a few moments she gives up fighting.

  “I got the message. You’re big and bad. I’m small and weak.”

  I don’t know why I said it. I don’t know why I provoked him after seeing his pure strength last night. Watching him bust through that bedroom door without a single hesitation was equal parts scary and sexy. Maybe that’s why I decided mouthing off this morning would work out well for me.

  I never imagined it would end with me in the shower, fully clothed, with a domineering man who seems to live to torment me.

  Maybe that’s why the words, “I got the message. You’re big and bad. I’m small and weak,” fall from my mouth.

  His response is even more surprising.

  “You’re not weak. That’s not the point that was being made here. You’ll get it, eventually. Now shower and don’t try anything.”

  Then I watch as he exits the shower. I expected him to stop and watch, but he continues into the bedroom. He leaves the door to the bathroom open so I have no illusions that if I were to attempt another escape that he would be on me in seconds, but it’s enough privacy that I feel better about at least attempting to shower.

  I look down at my feet and cringe. Even in my clothes, the water is a nasty brown color.

  How long has it been since I’ve showered?

  I can’t even remember. I do the best I can, but even if I get to a shelter, sometimes it’s not so safe to take a shower. I try to supplement with water from nearby ponds or fountains, but you have to be slick about that too. Too many eyes quick to call the cops if you linger too long.

  Not feeling quite safe enough to disrobe, but feeling better since he left, I take the opportunity to use the soap and clean any visible skin.

  First, I start with my feet. I kick off my shoes and socks, rubbing soap between my toes and along my feet up to my ankles. I repeat the process until the water runs clear. Then I move up to my calves, washing as far as my pants will let me without taking them off. Then I use the soap on my pants too.

  I repeat the process with the rest of my body, cleaning under and over my clothes until I reach my hair. Getting my hair wet, I attempt to run my fingers through it, but find it tangled and matted.

  No wonder Matteo forced me to take a shower. Look how disgusting I am.

  I use the soap in my hair several times, massaging it into the strands until it hurts to hold my arms up. Feeling better about myself, I turn off the water and open the door. I grab my shoes before I get out, intending to put them back on, but his voice stops me.

  “Strip.”

  I jolt, looking to him at the door. “What?”

  “I didn’t stutter. Strip. You can change into those clothes on the counter. Leave your dirty ones on the floor.”

  “No.” I grit my teeth.

  “No? Is that your final answer?” he taunts.

  “Why are you always trying to get me naked?”

  In two long strides, he is beside me. He grabs the back of my neck, turning me to the mirror.

  “Look at yourself in the mirror. Look. Do you see what I see or are you so immersed in this nomad, street life to see yourself? When was the last time you actually looked in a mirror?”

  Tears well in my eyes as I look at myself. It’s not that I haven’t been around my reflection recently. It’s that I actively avoid looking for prolonged periods of time. This is why.

  I take in my appearance and see myself through his eyes. My hair, while cleaner, is still a tangled, matted mess. My face is thinner than I remembered, my eyes sunken in. My cheekbones are pronounced, but not in a good way. I look sickly. Then I glance at my clothes. Even with all the soap in the shower, they are still stained and ratty.

  When did it come to this?

  The tears flow freely as I turn my anger on myself to the man making me face these demons.

  “What is the point of this? I know I’m disgusting. I’m filthy and ugly. I’ll never be clean.”

  He shakes his head. “Strip and take an actual shower. I gave you privacy, but you still didn’t take advantage of it. Why?”

  “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Try me.”

  I scoff, “Try you. Okay. You want to hear about the poor little orphan’s life? Fine. Have you ever tried taking a shower in a shelter while still keeping the items you came with? No? Well, I have. The second your eyes leave your bag, someone is waiting to swoop in and steal it. Taking your clothes off? Oh, they will steal those too. Stealing your clothes isn’t the worst, though. When I was seventeen, I was attempting to take a shower in one shelter and a group of girls came in. They jumped the other woman in the shower room with me. I don’t know what they did to her, but as I cowered in the dark corner praying they didn’t see me, they did things to make that woman scream. No one came to help her. I wanted to help her, but I couldn’t. So you ask why I didn’t jump at the opportunity to strip naked and clean myself, well past experiences have caused me to be leery of good things.”

  He shakes his head before meeting my eyes. “Those are all terrible things. They won’t happen to you here. I won’t beat you or take advantage of you as soon as you’re naked. I just want you to change your clothes so I can clean those.”

  My heart skips a beat at the caring tone he uses. “Why would you care?”

  His eyes harden. “I don’t want you to dirty all my furniture. Now change and leave the clothes. I’ll take them to be cleaned. We need to do something with that hair too, but I’ll take care of it. Hurry up. I have things to do today.”

  He turns and leaves the room, this time closing the door almost all the way.

  The Jekyll and Hyde routine is infuriating. One second, he seems nice, but the next he is demanding again. Can’t he figure out one personality and stick with it?

  Feeling a little better with the door mostly closed, I peel off my clothes. I leave them on the floor like he asked. I re-showered and then I slowly pull on the clothes he brought me. The sweatpants are a little big, but after pulling the drawstring as tight as it will go, they hold up okay. The T-shirt is long on me anyway, so that should help hide the bagginess of them. I consider putting my shoes back on, but they are soaked and if he had a problem with my dirty clothes, I feel he might throw away my shoes for getting his floors wet.

  Op
ening the door, I find Matteo sitting on the bed. He looks up as I exit. I stand in front of him as his eyes take me in. I hate to admit it, but when he smiles at my appearance, I feel an unexpected rush of happiness. I haven’t felt anything close to this in a long time. I think the last time was when I was ten and my foster mom at the time praised me for my singing. I was so proud of myself.

  That’s similar to how I feel now.

  “Much better. Come downstairs and eat.”

  I ignore my impulse to rebel just out of spite and follow him. Once in the kitchen, I see he has laid out pastries, bagels, and fruit. He moves around the island, popping open the microwave to reveal a plate of eggs, bacon, and potatoes.

  He places the plate on the island next to a stool. “Sit. Eat.”

  I take the seat he indicated and pick up a piece of bacon. I nibble it as I watch him move around the kitchen. After a few moments, he joins me at the island, setting a glass of orange juice in front of me before grabbing a bagel and slathering it with cream cheese.

  “You’re barely eating. Is none of this to your liking?” he asks conversationally.

  “It’s all wonderful. I’ve learned not to eat too quickly, though. It’ll make me sick.” I take a slightly larger bite of the bacon, counting my chews before swallowing.

  I look over to Matteo and find him frozen.

  He clears his throat. “Oh. That makes sense. Take as long as you need.”

  He picks up a paper and reads it, leaving me to eat in silence. After finishing the piece of bacon, I move onto the eggs. Only a third of my plate is gone when I push it away.

  “Sorry. I think I’m full. Can we save this for later?” I ask him.

  He gets up, grabbing the plate and heading to the trash. “Nonsense. Eggs are disgusting reheated. I’ll just make you more later if you want them.”

  Before he can turn the plate over, I rush to him, grabbing it. His eyes widen as I pull it closer to me.

  “It’s okay. I’ll eat it now then. I don’t want it to go to waste.” I’m shaking at the thought of losing the food I’ve only just now gotten.

  He comes closer, watching as I flinch. He pauses before reaching out for the plate.

  “We can put plastic wrap on it and put it in the fridge. That way you can eat it whenever you want.”