"Why are you doing this? Forcing your way into my life? Surely, there must be other women who could satisfy whatever need it is you think I'll meet—"
His fork dropped to the plate, and he stared at me until I fell silent under the force of that glare. "I am doing this," he paused, heaving a deep sigh. "Because you are mine. It's as simple as that."
"I haven't been yours for a long time, Teo," I protested, wincing at the way the name I'd once called him felt as it left my lips.
"You've always been mine, Cara mia. Even when we couldn't be together." He said it like it was so obvious. But the reality was he had spent over a decade fucking other women and leaving me to be with other men. That was not the man I wanted to belong to.
"I'm not interested in whatever weird kind of relationship you think it is we have. An open relationship? Something where you come back whenever you feel like it? Neither of those scenarios appeal to me, Matteo. I'm sure there are plenty of women content with what you're offering, and there's nothing wrong with that if it works for you. But I'm not that girl." I gave him a sad smile, setting down my silverware. I was finished—eating, playing his games, all of it. "I believe you know where the door is." He took another bite of his prime rib, defying me and my wishes to the last. When he'd finished his plate, he stood, watching me as I finished cleaning up my kitchen. It was an obsessive thing, always needing to clean the space down after every use. He glanced at my sage off-shoulder maxi dress, and his eyes tracked down to take in the nude heeled boots on my feet.
"You're comfortable in those?" he asked, and I furrowed my brow in confusion.
"Yes, though I'll take them off as soon as you leave." He knelt at my feet in front of me, shoving my dress up enough to inspect the shoes. I nearly lost my balance when he took one foot in his hands, twisting it gently to inspect the heel.
"They'll do. Let's go." Scooping up his jacket, he shrugged it back onto his shoulders but left the front unbuttoned. Like a crazy, elegant rebel.
"I'm not going anywhere," I protested. He seemed to consider his options and then nodded as if he was conceding defeat. With a heaving sigh of relief, I flinched when he stood directly in front of me and his hands grasped my hips in his hands. After he truly settled there, he lifted and heaved me up onto his shoulder. I grunted, smacking his back in struggles that went ignored as he turned and walked toward my entryway. He turned off the lights as he went, grabbing my keys off my console table and making for the door. "Matteo!" I shrieked. "Put me down!" Stepping out on to the front porch, he didn't seem to care that we must have been attracting attention from my neighbors—that they would likely call the police to report an abduction. "I need my phone at least. My purse." He swatted me on the ass with a resounding thump. It wasn't painful in the slightest, not through the combined fabric of my underwear and my dress, but the principle of it was shocking, regardless.
"Don't need them," he grunted, sealing my door shut with my own keys. When he turned and strode for the Aston Martin, I increased my struggles.
"Stop! Let me go! The neighbors will call the police, you know."
Matteo chuckled, turning me around so suddenly I felt dizzy. "You calling the cops?" he asked, and I had to wonder which neighbor he was harassing.
"No, Sir. Wouldn't dream of it, Mr. Bellandi. I didn't see nothing," my friendly, older neighbor Mike said, and his front door closed with a thud.
Traitor.
I imagined him retreating inside it, leaving me to the mercy of a man that he feared himself.
"Matteo, please," I begged as he pried open the passenger door.
"Get in the fucking car, Ivory," he ordered, setting me to my feet next to it. I nodded my submission, sensing something different playing beneath the surface of Matteo's sanity in that moment. Something had put him over the edge, and I suspected that it was me.
The only real question was what would he do about it?
I sat and pivoted my legs into the car, flinching when the door slammed closed. I had the brains to realize opening that door would likely be a very poor decision, so I sat with my hands in my lap. Matteo was in the driver's seat only a moment later, reaching across the center compartment to lean into my space and buckle me in himself. With a purr the engine started, and he pulled out of my driveway too fast for my liking. I gripped the seat next to my legs, trying to control my panic. "Matteo—"
"If you ever let another man touch you, I'll kill him," he snarled, his voice so menacing I froze in horror. That voice left little doubt to the fact that he meant every word, summoned straight from the pits of Hell. "We are not in an open relationship. No one touches you. No one touches me. It is you and I from here on out. Am I understood?"
I nodded, staring at my legs as he spoke.
"The words, Ivory. I need the words."
"Yes, Matteo. I understand," I whispered, fighting the urge to cry. I wouldn't let him know how much he'd frightened me. I may not have been the strongest of women, may not have been perfect, but I would be damned if I showed him my weakness. I'd survived him once, and I would do it again, but the second time around I would prove I could do it without letting my heart get involved in whatever twisted games he wanted to play.
He fell silent, driving us through the city, as I tried to reinforce my resolve.
Because I couldn't let him break me.
Not a second time.
✽✽✽
I don't know where I expected a man like Matteo to take me on a date. Somewhere exclusive. Somewhere classy.
I never would have guessed he'd bring me to Millennium Park. We pulled up onto the side of the road, and Matteo was out quickly and approaching the three men standing on the curb and waiting for us. I recognized Simon and Scar immediately, but the other man beside them was a stranger to me. Matteo tossed the stranger his keys, and I couldn't hear the words that the two of them exchanged from my place inside the vehicle. Matteo strode over to my door, tugging it open with a smooth elegance that spoke to his proper upbringing. He gave me his hand and pulled me free from the car with less patience.
I officially ranked lower than the car in that moment. He guided me down the sidewalk and into the park with his hand at the small of my back. The Aston started up behind us, the strange man whisking it away to park it somewhere safely no doubt. As we made our way in silence, Matteo's expression was steely every time I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. Shivering in the cold, I tried to discreetly cross my arms over my chest and rub some warmth into my mostly bare arms.
"Here, Miss Torres," Scar said from behind us. He shrugged out of his suit jacket, holding it out for me. My lips tipped in a sheepish smile, turning and reaching out a hand to take it.
"No," Matteo said from my side, shaking his head at Scar, who nodded and slid his arms back into the sleeves. Matteo stripped out of his own, draping it over my shoulders until I was suddenly cocooned in his scent—enveloped in the warmth from his body. I shuddered as his hands rubbed up and down my arms now covered in his jacket, releasing a sigh when his lips hit the top of my head. I could only hope that the cruel, dangerous Matteo had vacated his body in favor of the version of him I could handle.
Somewhat.
We resumed walking, picking up a brisk pace after Matteo glanced at his watch. A huge crowd had already formed, but Matteo and his guys made quick work of maneuvering us through it to get to the center near the back where the more relaxed listeners sat in lawn chairs compared to the ones who waited next to the stage. I was grateful for the width of the heel on my boots, and I realized with a start that was what Matteo had inspected back at my house. He'd been checking my ability to walk on grass. It was an oddly considerate, intimate, thing for him to have considered, particularly coming from the man who claimed he didn't even take women to dinner.
He guided me to a huge blanket on the ground, where another man in a suit stood guard. Matteo sat on the blanket, looking altogether unreal. Wearing an expensive Italian suit, handsome beyond belief, he emitted raw powe
r even sitting on a blanket in the park. I sat down next to him, curling my legs to the side. Matteo's security moved behind us, remaining standing, and I tried to ignore them. They gave us enough distance that I knew they wouldn't be eavesdropping or anything of the sort, but it still somehow felt intrusive. Like their presence was just different from the hundreds of people around us.
I was distracted from the awkwardness when a song I recognized well started from the stage. The artist's voice rang loud and clear, and the listeners silenced immediately as my favorite indie musician played one of his first hits. I swallowed back my growing apprehension that Matteo seemed to know so much about me, because there was absolutely no chance that it was a coincidence. We sat in silence, listening to the artist sing about a woman who needed someone to lean on, about a woman who had gone through life alone for too long. I could feel Matteo's eyes on the side of my face, but I refused to look at him. He sighed, repositioning my body until I fell onto my back. My head landed on his thigh, and his fingers took to stroking my hair. Tilting my head away from him, I looked toward the stage. We were far away enough that I couldn't see much beyond the more avid fans who stood close to the stage, but it was better than acknowledging Matteo. His attentiveness in combination with the lyrics of the artist's songs was too much, it made the situation feel like a critical moment in my life.
A crossroad.
My heart pumped in my chest, despite what should have been nothing but calming. "You can trust me," he whispered. I huffed a laugh, resuming my determination to ignore him after the minor slip up. "I know things didn't end well before. There are things you don't know. Things you can't know just yet. I did what I had to do for your sake, Ivory, but leaving you was the hardest thing I've ever done. It broke something inside me, and if you haven't figured it out yet, that boy you loved no longer exists."
"I'll bet. You sure looked broken when you went off to fuck Shauna," I hissed.
He winced, looking ashamed for the first time I think I'd ever seen. Even in high school, Matteo had been unapologetic for his behavior, taking what he wanted when he wanted it. The boy who never heard the word no, the boy who had the world waiting in the palm of his hand if he so much as said the words. "I needed you to hate me," he whispered brokenly, and my head turned to face him and meet his eyes.
"You succeeded," I whispered back. "I’ve never hated anyone as much as I hate you."
His hand cupped my cheek as he stared down at me, a thumb trailing over the freckles on my cheek he'd once found so fascinating. "I'll fix it. I promise."
"No one can fix this, Teo," I murmured, hating how pathetic my voice sounded.
How broken.
"Just watch me," he challenged. I shook my head, returning to silence to listen to the music for the rest of the concert. I let it seep into my bones, remind me of what it felt like to be alone. I'd lived alone for so long, the prospect of not having to be for once appealed in a way I never expected.
I was so lonely that even a man I hated seemed like a decent option to cuddle me while I slept. To hold me still while I battled in my dreams. I determined that as soon as Matteo left me, and I knew he would eventually, I would stop looking for perfect.
Perfect didn't exist.
All that mattered was that I found someone who loved me.
Someone who held me.
Someone who knew me, because he asked me questions.
Safe. Content. That was what I needed.
Not a stalker who broke into my home and knew things about me that he shouldn't have known.
✽✽✽
My eyes were droopy, taking me back to the days of my childhood where I could not be a passenger in a car at night and stay awake. It just didn’t happen. "Where are we going?" I asked, staring out the window as Matteo turned in the opposite direction of my house.
"Home," he answered evasively, his hand clenching the steering wheel tighter as he shifted gears and merged into traffic on I-90.
"My house is in the opposite direction, Matteo. Take me home," I protested, glancing over at the side of his face where his features glittered like the hardest granite. My eyes snapped wide open as unease became very real.
"My bed is bigger."
"I didn't invite you to join me in mine," I hissed, shaking my head in disbelief. I wanted to call for help, wanted to call Duke or Sadie to come pick me up.
But I didn't have my phone.
"I don't even have my purse, or my phone Matteo. I need those things. Please take me home," I begged. He grunted, pressing a button on the steering wheel.
"Boss?" Simon's voice came over the speaker.
"After we're safely in the estate, I need you or Scar to go to Ivory's. Get her phone off the kitchen counter and her purse. Bring them to the house." He glanced over at me, his eyes glittering in the light coming off the dashboard given how dark it was outside. "And a change of clothes for her to wear home tomorrow."
"Anything else?"
"That's all." The line disconnected, and I stared at him in disbelief.
"You can't just tell me I'm staying the night! I have the right to say no." My face twisted when he turned hardened eyes to me.
"We're done with these games. It's time for you to accept that I am not going anywhere, Angel." His voice softened, as if realizing just how much he was asking of me. "I want to move forward with the rest of our lives."
"And you just don't give a shit about what I want? That's promising for our future," I spat, and watched as his jaw clenched. I shut up, feeling like I'd done nothing but test Matteo's limits all night. He was angry with me, frustrated, and I truly didn't know the man well enough to know if that was just bad or if it was terrible for me.
The boy I'd loved never would have hurt me, but he was gone. A lie that had never really existed, one that Matteo admitted was gone forever.
I didn't speak until we pulled up to the gates of the Estate, the guard nodding to Matteo wordlessly before he opened it. Matteo drove in, and when I turned back to see the gates closing a feeling of hopelessness settled inside me. There'd be no escaping his fortress unless he wanted me to. We both knew that. "Matteo," I whispered.
"Quiet, Angel," his voice was low, a barely there whisper that increased my anxiety. Men like Matteo didn't need to yell to be terrifying. They could convey their dissatisfaction without a word, by just existing. He pulled the car to a stop quickly, hopping out and pulling me from my seat.
Donatello stepped out the front door. "Mr. Bellandi. Ms.Torres. Welcome home."
I resisted the urge to point out that it wasn't my home. That it never would be, and Matteo spared me from having to respond when he answered. "We're not to be disturbed. When Simon or Scar return with her things, put them in my office please."
“Certainly,” Donatello nodded, watching with wide eyes as Matteo took my hand and pulled me into the house. We traipsed over the tile floors, and he pulled me up the winding stairs. I had to fight not to trip, my dress too long and my boots not prepared for the speed with which Matteo took the stairs. He didn't let me take in the landing at the top of the stairs, just turned down one of two hallways and led me all the way to the end.
The master bedroom was a very different style than the rest of the house. Modern, clean lines done in a combination of dark grey and tan, I had to wonder what prompted the difference between that room and the rest of the house.
"I never bothered remodeling the rest of the house," he answered my silent question. "But this room I did as soon as I moved back in after my father died."
"It's lovely." I shifted awkwardly, doing my best not to glance at the massive platform bed on the back wall.
"Get ready for bed." He jerked his head to a door to the bathroom behind me. I took it as my reprieve, retreating into the space and locking the door behind me. It was a continuation from the bedroom, white and grey marble with tan elements through the space. A huge deep soak tub, and a massive shower made for orgies dominated the space, but a massive two sink vanity caught m
y eye. I stepped in front of the mirror, trying not to think about how many women Matteo had caught in his web in that bathroom. I washed the makeup off my face, attempting to calm my raging heart and convince my eyeballs to remain in my skull, given they looked wide enough they might bolt at any moment.
I could do it. I had slept in a bed with Matteo the night before, unknowingly, but I'd survived. The next morning he'd take me home, and I'd get the fuck out of dodge. It was only one night. I stripped off my socks and shoes, stacking them in the corner.
A brand-new toothbrush in its packaging sat on the counter, and I used it all while wanting to keep my bad breath to spite him. When I went back to the bedroom, after hyperventilating for a few moments, Matteo stood next to the bed. His back was to me, and he stared out the window sipping a scotch. His suit was draped over one of the armchairs in the room, all his beautiful olive skin on display and only his ass covered by his skintight boxer briefs.
He turned, setting his tumbler on a coaster on the little table in the seating area. I took a step back as he prowled toward me, flinching when he only reached out a hand to clasp a strand of my hair. "You expect me to believe you sleep in your dress?"
"I don't have any clothes." I swallowed.
"That's because you won't be needing them until morning," he murmured, pressing his lips to mine briefly. "Take off your dress."
"No. I don't want this, Teo. I don't want you—"
"Ah, Cara mia, you always were a terrible liar," he chuckled.
"I'm not lying! This isn't—" I broke off, gasping when he leaned forward and pressed his lips behind my ear. His breath tortured my skin, making me shudder. "You're bad for me."
"Yes," he agreed. "But you're mine, regardless." His hands grasped the fabric of my dress, bunching it until it was a mound around my hips.
"Teo, stop," I whispered but the vehemence, the fear had gone. Nothing remained but anticipation. Because no one had ever made me feel the way Matteo had the night, he took my virginity.
Bloodied Hands: A Dark Mafia Romance (Bellandi Crime Syndicate Book 1) Page 10
