Matteo (The Syndicates series Book 1)

by Cala Riley

  Bash thinks I’m crazy. The first time they raided here, they arrested me and questioned me for hours. They didn’t believe it was fake. Not until the coroner showed up. That was my first dummy. They still have that in evidence somewhere. I’m sure of it. A reminder I made them look foolish.

  They have raided since, but they’ve learned to test the substance coming from the wounds before they jump to conclusions. Some say I’m cruel, but I think of it as teaching lessons.

  Not everything is the way it seems.

  “What did he do?” Her voice is low as she stares at the prop.

  “It doesn’t matter what he did. If this is the punishment you were asking for upstairs, I’ll oblige. I’ll string you up and cut into your body until you bleed out. Is that really what you want?”

  She shakes her head no.

  “I didn’t think so. I brought you down here to show you how much worse it could be. You could be this guy. Hanging here, bleeding dry. I also wanted to show you why this door is not locked. I was never once concerned with you leaving through here. Do you see why?”

  I watch as she looks around and really takes in the walls. There is not one single window or door down here.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

  “Apologies aren’t going to work. You’ll have to earn your freedoms back. Come on, we are going to eat something and then you’re going to bed.”

  She doesn’t meet my eyes as she walks past me to the stairs. At the top, she moves to the side as I shut the basement door behind me.

  I make my way to the fridge to figure out what I can make.

  I settle on sandwiches. I get the ingredients out as I put together a salami, pepperoni, and pastrami sandwich. Once done, I slide it down the middle and push the plate across the island to her before making my own.

  She waits for me to join her before she starts to eat.

  We eat in complete silence, the only noise coming from our chewing.

  I miss our nightly dinners filled with meaningful conversation. It made this place feel more like a home rather than a place I come to sleep.

  For a moment, I’m even mad at her. She took that from us. Then I remember she was always going to try to escape again. I let her fool me because I wanted to believe she had chosen to stay. That she gave up.

  When I finish, I take both of our plates to the sink and start washing. Vanessa comes up next to me, choosing to dry as I wash.

  Once the dishes are done, I head back upstairs. She silently follows me without question.

  I wait until we reach my room, the same room she’s been staying in before I speak.

  “Trust is a very hard thing to earn. I gave it to you freely. It’s up to you if you want to earn it back. You’ll have restrictions put in place. Nico will be here, but you may not speak to him. He will no longer speak to you. If it’s not in this room, you can’t have it or do it. I’ll deliver your food to you. When I’m gone, I will give you rations to survive on. The windows are alarmed, so I do not suggest you attempt to make your way out of them.”

  “I understand.” Her voice is quiet.

  “Also, give me your shoes.” I point at the sneakers I had given her back after washing and drying them.

  It was a show of good faith. One that she’s just lost.

  Her eyes widen, but she toes them off. I pick them up and place them under my arm.

  “Remember that your situation can get worse. Behave. Goodnight.”

  I turn and walk out of the room, closing the door the best I can with it still being broken from a week ago.

  I go downstairs, tossing her shoes in the trash. If she earns them back, I’ll get her new ones. Until then, she doesn’t need them. Bagging the trash, I take it to the front door, calling for Nico.

  He comes around the corner, the same guilty look on his face.

  “Take this to the curb. You are not to speak to her until further notice. I don’t care if she is screaming. The only exception is if she is in mortal danger. Even then, she better need a hospital before you speak to her. Understand?”

  “Yes, boss.”

  “Great. You owe me a round on boxing day as punishment.”

  He winces. “Yes, boss.”

  I don’t blame him. Boxing day is an underground boxing match hosted by the Russian Bratva. We rarely participate, but when we do, they are extra brutal. No one dies usually. Nico should be safe enough, but it is going to be rough on him.

  “I need you to go get me the material to fix that bedroom door. I also need a way to lock it from the outside,” I tell him. “Get it to me before morning. Tomorrow you will be watching her but keep your distance.”

  He nods before turning to leave.

  I head back inside, planning the punishment for this disrespect.

  Isolation can be a wonderful tool when breaking someone.

  I’m miserable.

  It has only been five days since I tried to escape, but they have been the longest five days of my life.

  Matteo wasn’t kidding when he said this would be a punishment. At first, I thought there was no way I would ever consider a warm bed with running water and a toilet a punishment.

  Then day one happened. When he came in the morning, he made sure not to speak a word to me. He set my food down before turning to the door to work on it.

  After an hour or two, he fixed the door so it shut. I was naïve enough to feel relief.

  That was until I tried to open the door after I heard him leave.

  He locked me into my prison.

  I still didn’t see the issue. I figured I have spent most of my life alone, so what’s so different now.

  I searched the room and found nothing.

  Not a single book. Not anything that would keep my attention.

  So I laid in bed, staring at the ceiling until he came home.

  I sat up as he opened the door, but much like in the morning, he didn’t speak a word.

  The next morning and the days after proceeded the same.

  By day three, I attempted to speak first, but he acted like I didn’t say anything.

  He was purposely ignoring me.

  After five days, I went a little crazy.

  That’s the only explanation for the idea running through my head.

  The morning of the sixth day, my plan was in motion. I waited until I could hear him get up and move around.

  After day one, he moved a bunch of his clothing out of this room so he could minimize his time in here. I could hear him go through his morning routine or showering and getting dressed. Then his footsteps fade down the stairs. I wait to the left of the door for him. I hear his footsteps draw closer after several minutes, alerting me to his arrival.

  The key in the door clinks, then the door swings open.

  I launch myself at him right away.

  He reaches back, easily dislodging my hold, swinging me around in his arms. After two long strides, we are at the bed, me bent over his lap.

  I attempt to struggle, but the first whack on my ass stops me.

  I’m startled by it.

  I never dreamed he’d hit me. While he has a violent side that I’ve never seen, he never seemed like he would hit me and I’d given him plenty of chances.

  The second swat on my ass burns, but as he rubs the area, it also sends a new sensation between my legs.

  It almost feels…. good.

  I wince as a third strike comes down, but again that foreign feeling blossoms.

  After five swats, he lifts me from his lap and leaves me on the bed. He looks down at the tray of food sprawled across the floor and sighs.

  “Why did you hit me?” I ask him, not expecting a response.

  He turns, locking his eyes in mine. “I didn’t hit you. I spanked you. I told you that if you wanted to keep misbehaving, you’ll receive consequences.”

  Spanking. I thought parents only spanked children. Or that’s what my foster parents would’ve had me believe. Then again, a lot of those same foster parents
would smack us across the face.

  I never once had the sensation I had with him just now when they did it, though.

  “I wasn’t misbehaving. I was getting your attention.”

  His lip twitches, almost like he wants to smile, but won’t. “Is there a difference? What can I help you with, cara?”

  I narrow my eyes at the nickname, but continue, “I’m bored out of my mind. Can you bring me some books or something? Maybe say a couple of words to me. A person isn’t meant to live in isolation.”

  “You’re right. You were being punished. What makes you think you’ve earned a reprieve from it?”

  I blanch.

  This was a punishment? I think to myself.

  Realizing he is waiting for an answer, I answer calmly, “I’ve learned my lesson.”

  “What is it you think you’ve learned, Vanessa?” The quirk in his eye says he doesn’t think I’ll get the answer right.

  I hesitate before answering, “I learned that you have kidnapped me and that I’m not to leave this house. I need to play by your rules.”

  He chuckles. “I suppose that would be a quite literal translation of events, but I don’t think you learned the true meaning of my punishment.”

  I swallow hard. “Will you tell me?”

  He shakes his head. “Clean this up. I’ll bring you lunch today. Have a good day, cara,” I run toward the door as he slams it shut.

  I pound my hands on it, calling to him, but he doesn’t answer.

  I hear his footsteps retreat down the hall and the front door slamming.

  What lesson is he trying to teach me?

  I think over everything that has happened since I’ve come here.

  He said I was his to do with what he pleased. That until he properly punished me, I would be stuck here. He said I needed to behave.

  Does he view me as his property?

  I mull over the possibility that this is all a game. A game designed so I won’t win. He’s dangling my freedom on a hook, hoping I bite at it, but what if he never plans to set me free?

  Hours go by with nothing but silence.

  After Matteo left, I ate the plate of pastries he brought for me. They were sprawled across the floor. But I’ve eaten from dumpsters. His house is cleaner than any of them.

  Then I cleaned up the mess they left the best I could. Without a broom or mop, I was stuck making do with what I had.

  I pinched the crumbs between my fingers and put them in the bathroom trash. Then I took a washcloth and wiped down the hardwood flooring.

  Satisfied with the cleanliness, I moved onto my daily pacing. Then I stared at the ceiling some more.

  When lunchtime rolls around, I feel like I cannot sit still anymore.

  I’m excited to see Matteo.

  I never thought I would feel that way, but I want to see him. I want to talk to him.

  When I finally hear the click in the door, I jump up, ready to greet him.

  For half a second, I’m upset when I see Nico on the other side of the door instead.

  “Nico, I am so sorry for getting you in trouble. Please forgive me.” The words pour out before I can stop them.

  I mean every word, though. I’ve had plenty of time to stew on my thoughts and I realized I messed up. Nico was nothing but nice to me. He was just doing his job. I shouldn’t have manipulated him the way I did.

  He walks in and sets down a tray before turning to leave again.

  “Wait.” I rush after him, grabbing his arm.

  He winces as he turns to look at me.

  I let out a gasp. “What happened?”

  His face is covered in bruises and cuts. It looks like he was jumped.

  He sighs. “I can’t talk about it and I’m not allowed to talk to you. Please leave it at that.”

  He goes to leave again, but I stop him a second time. “Can you answer me one question? Is this because of what I did?”

  He doesn’t answer with words, but by the look on his face, I know.

  I did this to him.

  My one selfish moment of wanting freedom hurt him.

  As he leaves, I get lost in my thoughts.

  It was really a selfish move. It wasn’t hurting me staying here. Matteo never did anything to hurt me.

  If anything, he has been helping me. He has been feeding me and letting me shower. He hadn’t laid a hand on me until this morning, and even then, I think I might have even liked it.

  What is wrong with you, Vanessa?

  Sighing, I bite into my sandwich Nico brought me.

  Even when I tried to escape, Matteo kept his promise to me. He never used food as a punishment. He still feeds me. He lets me shower. He didn’t take this bed away.

  Is it really so bad here? I think to myself.

  The answer is no. It’s not. Especially when he let me roam the house. I had books and Nico to keep me company.

  I felt less lonely. I felt like maybe life was going to be okay.

  I needed to talk to Matteo. I might not have learned the lesson he wanted, but I learned one.

  Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.

  I didn’t mean to spank her. She brings out that side of me, though. The side that craves the control of a woman. To see her submit to me in a way she would never submit to another.

  Add in the fact that she acts like a petulant child sometimes and it just kind of happened.

  I was proud of her for attacking me, but it couldn’t go unpunished.

  I want her to have the fight to defend herself, but I don’t want her to use that defense against me.

  I can’t say I didn’t enjoy her punishment. My body reacted in a way that I didn’t expect when it comes to her.

  Her other punishment, the silent treatment along with imprisonment, seems to be doing its job. She’s right when she said humans aren’t meant to be isolated. They crave the interaction with others.

  That’s why I did it. She needed to see that death or physical harm isn’t the worst thing that could happen to her.

  Sending Nico up around lunch was another calculated move. I gave him permission to only say that he wasn’t allowed to speak to her.

  Mental warfare can be much more useful than physical when used properly.

  If I had to guess, I’d say she is sitting in the room worrying about whether the bruises on Nico were caused by her. I’d even venture to say that she most likely views me as the culprit who put them there.

  I know the two have grown amicable with each other. I wouldn’t say they are friends, but she doesn’t loathe his presence. He also took on a protector role for her. His attachment is why she could manipulate him the way she did.

  He gave her a sliver of trust and she stabbed him with it.

  He learned a valuable lesson along with her.

  Trust needs to be earned. Once broken, trust is gone. It is possible to earn it back, but unlikely.

  Especially in my business.

  Nico won’t fall for her act again.

  Neither will I.

  I was becoming complacent with her. She was being docile, so I let her live in the house as if she wasn’t a prisoner. I allowed her to eat my food, wear my clothes, and read my books.

  I suppose her quest for freedom overcame the basic necessities. I don’t know any other person in her predicament that wouldn’t be begging to live here free of charge with unlimited food.

  Maybe that’s why I am drawn to her like a moth to the flame. Her uniqueness. The fact that she fights against free food. The fact that even while she stole my wallet, she only used a couple of dollars from it instead of blowing the whole bit. She seems to have a solid head on her shoulders. Thinking about her decisions before she makes them.

  This makes her even more dangerous. She doesn’t make rash decisions. She isn’t motivated by her emotions. She will stop and think before she makes a move.

  This is also why I’m intrigued by her.

  What would it take to make you break, cara? Make you hand yourself over to me
fully and willingly?

  It’s something I’ve finally been able to admit to myself.

  I want the girl.

  My phone rings on my desk.

  “Hello,” I answer.

  “Are you coming to dinner Sunday?” Sophia’s voice is on the other end.

  “Yes. I’ll be there,” I tell her.

  “I want to make sure. You flaked on us last week. What’s going on over there, anyway?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve never known you to miss family dinner unless it’s for business. Since I know your boss, I know it wasn’t business. So spill,” she demands.

  “It was personal. I don’t need to tell you everything, Sof.”

  “Fine. Keep your secrets. Are you at least bringing Nico with you? You’ve made him miss the past two dinners.”

  “No. He’s on assignment. I wouldn’t expect him to be at dinner anytime soon.”

  “Seriously? Fine, but I expect you at dinner Sunday. Be prepared to be interrogated. Mia and Iz are curious as to your whereabouts as well.”

  “You guys need to learn to mind your own damn business. You’re worse than my actual sister.”

  “Yet you still love us. See you Sunday.”

  She hangs up the phone. I shake my head at her antics.

  All three girls have been pestering me since I missed dinner last Sunday. I stayed home with Vanessa instead of going over there.

  I rub my hand down my face. How am I going to keep Vanessa here and safe while also going to dinner? This is going to be a mess.

  Glancing at the clock, I curse. It’s dinner time.

  I make my way down the stairs and heat up leftover pasta from the night before. I’ve been trying to pace her, giving her portions that are decent, but not overloading her so she feels she needs to eat the whole thing.

  She doesn’t seem to mind eating leftovers, which is more than I can say for my own sister. Living with Vanessa has made me see how wasteful we are. How often we throw out food because we don’t eat it all or turn up our nose at certain foods.

  I told Vanessa she’s supposed to be learning a lesson, but she’s teaching me one too. To be more appreciative of what I have.