40. Siena
Siena
W hen I open my eyes, it feels like I’ve been hit by a ton of bricks. Every part of me is throbbing. Stretching feels good, but the ache radiates everywhere, sharp pains stabbing different spots on my body.
The sheets, though. The sheets are incredible. Cool, slippery silk glides against my skin. I used to wonder why anyone would waste money on such impractical bedding—silk sheets aren’t even cozy. Now, I get it. These are luxurious in a way that makes it hard to care about practicality.
Everything about this bed is indulgent. Peeking through my eyelashes, the bed itself is massive, larger than any I’ve ever seen, with four towering wooden posts that nearly reach the high ceiling.
Flashes of memory trickle back. Matti carrying me out of Aurelio’s house, slung over his shoulder like a sack of flour. Fighting with him, about what I can’t recall. Then I remember his arms around me. After that, nothing.
Panic seizes my lungs as I sneak a look around the room. It looks like I could still be in Aurelio’s house. The rich wood paneling on the lower half of the walls, the muted paint above, and the thick mahogany windowsills all bear the same traditional style.
But no, this place is different. The air here feels cleaner, lighter, with none of that heavy staleness tinged with cigar smoke and old leather.
The furniture—a heavy mahogany bed frame, matching nightstands, and scattered chairs and dressers—is newer, more polished, less oppressive than Aurelio’s antiques.
When I spot Matti seated in a chair next to the bed, I yelp in surprise. He’s leaned back casually, knees spread wide, his fingers steepled as he watches me. He looks exhausted, but otherwise, his face is unreadable. He’s just staring at me.
I yank the blankets higher, suddenly aware that I’m naked. Bandages cover my wrists and shoulder, a stark reminder of my wounds, then the content of our fight hits me, triggering a bubble of fury beneath my exhaustion.
Emily. Matti killed Emily. He admitted it. The weight of my anger is muted only by the heavy fog of sadness.
“Watching people while they sleep. That’s not creepy at all,” I mumble sarcastically.
He doesn’t respond. His silence unnerves me more than anything he could say. I glare at him, but when he still doesn’t react, I roll my eyes.
“Are you going to tell me what we’re doing here, Matteo ?” I snap, spitting his name the way I heard Aurelio say it.
The corner of his lip curls into a sneer. “You call me Matti, or you call me ‘sir,’ Siena .”
“Oh, I don’t think I’ll be calling you ‘sir’ again anytime soon, Matteo . Now what the fuck are we doing here?”
“You have been sleeping for the past week.” He nods toward a pile of clothes at the foot of the bed. “Get dressed.”
A week?!
I open my mouth to argue, but stop. My bandages are clean and small, none of them bloody. Some of the bruises are yellowing at the edges and starting to fade. The cuts on my wrists from the rope are closed. Maybe it has been a week.
He’s right: I do need clothes. Aurelio’s men dragged me here naked, so whatever Matti has for me will have to do. Irritated that he’s right about anything, I huff and throw the blankets off, cringing as I stand gingerly, wobbling like a baby colt.
Holding his gaze, I work hard to show no pain on my face, and give him a look that dares him to be distracted by my body.
I don’t want him to respond until he doesn’t. Not that I would give him the satisfaction of responding if he got up and moved toward me. But when he maintains eye contact and shows no reaction at all, I’m almost confused. Then sad.
Then scared.
As much as I hate Matti, I always felt safe with him, wanted. Until now.
I turn my back on him and pull a t-shirt from the pile.
Matti was my ally, wasn’t he? Back in Aurelio’s office, when Aurelio tried to assault me, Matti intervened.
But the memory of the anger on his face, both then and now, unsettles me.
Maybe I was wrong about him. Wrong about us. Maybe I was wrong about everything.
The t-shirt fits snugly, straining across my chest so tightly that you can see the outline of my necklace through it. The cotton leggings and hoodie fit better. There’s no bra, no underwear, but the rubber flip-flops and pack of ponytail holders are new. And none of it is mine .
Whirling to face him, I jab a finger in his direction. “Whose clothes are these? What the fuck, Matti? Did you strip some other woman to dress me? What’s the plan? Keep me locked up at the Edge while you fuck her here?”
A slight smirk lifts the corners of Matti’s mouth, and something briefly flickers in his eyes that I can’t read before it’s gone.
My stomach drops as a sickening realization hits me. He probably does have someone else. He probably always did.
FUCK him.
Fuming, I shove my feet into the flip-flops and twist my hair into a messy bun, turning so he can’t see the emotions warring on my face.
“Why do I even care? Fuck this,” I grumble under my breath.
Before the words are fully out of my mouth, he’s behind me. He grips my shoulders, spinning me around to face him and making me gasp, my bruised neck and shoulder throbbing.
His face is inches from mine, his eyes now ice blue and burning with breathtaking intensity.
“Yes,” he murmurs, voice low and dangerous. “Why do you care? You hate me, right? I’m a monster, remember?”
Wet heat pulses in my core, and I flush with embarrassment, praying that no visible spot appears since I’m not wearing underwear. I realize with a start that I’m barely breathing.
“What do you want from me?” I shove both hands into his chest, but he doesn’t budge.
He leans down, his warm breath skating over my jaw. “How about the fucking flash drive? Or are you still pretending you don’t know where it is?”
The flash drive. I’d forgotten all about that thing. I remember the drive flying out of my pocket outside Franco’s room, me picking it up. Where is it now? Probably with my discarded clothes at the Edge.
Matti moves closer, backing me into the bed. “Answer me, Siena,” he growls.
It hits me that he’s using my name instead of calling me ‘kitten.’ In fact, he hasn’t called me that since we were in bed together, and something twists inside me with that realization. An irrational wish to rewind time back to that moment overwhelms me.
Then it hits me. Our time together wasn’t real for him.
‘Kitten’ is probably something he calls all women he wants to fuck.
And he doesn’t want to fuck me anymore. Whatever happened between us was nothing more than a diversion for him, something to do until he found the flash drive.
Now that I don’t have it, I’m less than useless to him.
“Siena…”
“Fuck you!” The volume of my voice shocks even me. “You don’t get to fucking tear my family apart and then treat me like I’m the fucking criminal. I don’t owe you shit!”
In an instant, I’m on my back on the bed, Matti straddling me. With one hand, he pins both my hands above my head while his other hand grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him.
“You owe me your fucking life. Your. Fucking. Life. Don’t forget it,” he snarls.
His face is so close to mine, menacing, terrifying.
Just like when he spanked me until my ass was red and sore.
Searing pain shoots through my shoulder and every muscle in my body is aching and bruised, but the memory of being with him sends a shot of electricity straight to my pussy.
I hate myself for it, but I’m almost desperate for him to do it again. Almost.
“The minute you killed my sister, you put my life in danger,” I whisper.
He doesn’t move. His jaw tics and the corner of his mouth twitches in disgust. It’s so fucking obvious that I can’t believe it didn’t even occur to me until now: he hates me. With that realization, exhaustion falls over me like a blanket.
Licking my lips, I clear my throat, my voice so soft and pleading that I almost don’t recognize it. “Matti. Please. Please just let me go. I can’t give you what you want,” I whisper, my voice cracking.
For a fleeting second, his expression softens. Sadness flickers across his face before hardening again. “You mean ‘won’t,’” he sneers.
“I mean ‘can’t.’ I did have the flash drive, but I honestly don’t know where it is now. I couldn’t give it to you if I wanted to.”
“But you don’t want to, do you? Even though I asked you for it?” His voice is jagged, laced with poison.
I have no fight left in me. “Matti…” I’m hoarse, and I clear my throat, trying to keep the heartbreak that is ripping through me out of my voice. “We both know I’m not your girl. I never was. Please. Let me go.”
He looks like I slapped him.
There’s a soft knock and the door creaks open behind me. He looks up sharply to see who it is, his expression icing over, all signs of emotion gone. Instantly, he releases me and climbs off the bed, yanking me up with him.
“You want to go? Then get the fuck out.”
Confused, my heart pounding, I turn to see Olivia standing in the doorway, duffel bag in hand. Her wide-eyed gaze darts from me to Matti and back again.
Matti’s mask of indifference slams into place. “Take her home,” he says flatly .
“Home home?” I ask, confused. “Or the Edge?”
He doesn’t answer, and I turn back to Olivia as she motions for me to follow her. My heart pounds as I glance between her and Matti. He’s already turned away, staring out the window, his back a wall of finality.
I open my mouth to say something, anything, to get closure, maybe figure out what the fuck is actually happening right now. But I close it again, frozen.
I feel numb, like I’m moving through molasses as I join Olivia at the door, the only sound the slap of my flip-flops.
As much as I hate him, I can’t believe this is really it. I can’t believe it’s over.