Chapter 12
Daniella
“Daniella! Get out of the fucking bath.”
I jump at Henry’s command and pull the plug, not wanting to upset him. He’s been extra pissy today, and I think it has something to do with the fact that things aren’t going his way.
I overheard him yelling at someone on the phone about the company’s worth. Apparently, he’s trying to liquidate it so there will be nothing left. Not that it matters because if he has it his way, Lorenzo will be rotting in jail for a long time and soon enough, I’ll be dead.
But knowing that things aren’t going as planned for Henry makes me the tiniest bit giddy inside. Nothing would please me more than for his entire plan to blow up in his face.
“I’m coming,” I yell back.
I quickly get dressed, not looking in the mirror since I don’t care to see the bruises he left on my stomach or face, and then throw my hair up into a messy bun.
I’m opening the bathroom door and mentally preparing myself for whatever is waiting for me on the other side when a loud explosion hits my ears, nearly shaking the house.
My eyes meet Henry’s, and he stills for several seconds before, out of nowhere, he pulls a gun—one I wish I had known about—and grabs me by the neck.
“Don’t even think about running,” he hisses, pulling me with him into the living room, into a corner where we can’t be seen.
Shots are fired, one after another, and my heart rate picks up speed. I hope it’s someone here to save me, but at the same time, the last thing I want is for anyone to get hurt because of me.
The door swings open, and several guys pile in with guns in their hands. Henry must know he’s outnumbered because he immediately shoves me toward them and starts shooting as he runs to the back of the house.
I drop to my knees, closing my eyes and praying I don’t get killed in the cross fire.
And I’m still praying, waiting for the shooting to stop, when strong hands lift me onto my feet.
“C’mon, Little Russo. Let’s get you out of here.”
Matteo.
He came.
I didn’t even know he was out of jail.
But he’s here to save me.
He lifts me off the ground and into his arms like I don’t weigh a ton and carries me out the front door, over to a four-door all-black BMW.
When he opens the passenger door, he places me gently into the seat and reaches over to buckle me in.
His heady scent invades my senses, and for the first time in a long time, I feel safe.
“You good?” he asks, turning to face me.
With him leaning into the car, we’re only inches away from each other, and I’m able to get a good look at his boyish yet masculine face. He’s just as I remember from the funeral—rough around the edges but beautiful. With his dark blue eyes and scruffy face, he’s every woman’s fantasy.
After what I’ve been through, those probably shouldn’t be my thoughts, but I can’t help it. Matteo is the light in my darkness. He promised he would save me, and here he is, getting me away from that monster.
“I’m okay,” I tell him.
Later, once the adrenaline dies down, I’m sure I’ll lose my shit. But right now, in his car, surrounded by his safety, I am okay.
His gaze lands on the bruise forming on my eye, and his jaw clenches.
“I promise,” I tell him, “I’m okay.”
With a nod, he rounds the front of the car and then slides in easier than it should be for a man of his size.
With a press of a button, the car comes to life, and he wastes no time, peeling out and heading down a gravelly road.
It’s been days since I’ve seen the outside, and now that I can, I’m glad I didn’t try to run. The driveway alone looks to be a half mile. He turns onto a road, and that one seems to go on forever, until he finally crosses over some railroad tracks and hits the main road.
“I never would’ve made it,” I admit out loud.
“No, it’s a good thing you waited. He wasn’t lying when he said he had men surrounding the place. And it’s a good two miles at least to get to the main road. And another ten to get to the city.”
His phone rings over Bluetooth, and he presses Answer.
“Talk to me.”
“He’s fucking gone! I’m pretty sure we shot him multiple times, but he’s nowhere to be found. It’s like the fucker disappeared into thin air. We’ve searched for places he could’ve snuck off to, a safe house or a hidden door, but there’s nothing.”
Oh my God. He got away.
I glance around, as if he’s going to pop out at us, and Matteo places his hand on my thigh, squeezing it comfortingly.
“He’s not coming anywhere near you,” he says, his eyes briefly meeting mine. “Ian, is everyone accounted for?” he asks, going back to talking to the man on the phone.
“Yeah,” Ian says. “Finn was grazed but is fine, and Kaleb took a shot to his arm, clean in and out. I’ve called the doc to meet us at my place. I also went back in and grabbed the electronics he left on his desk.”
Matteo grins. “Good job. Come to my condo once everyone is taken care of.”
He ends the call.
“Any chance he mentioned anywhere he might go?” Matteo asks me.
“No.” I shake my head, once again feeling useless. “Everything he told me was a lie to screw my family over. I don’t even know his real name.” That reminds me of something I’ve been wondering about. “Is our marriage legal since he used a fake name?”
“I’m not sure,” Matteo says, “but identity fraud is against the law, so I would imagine there’d be a way for you to get out of it.”
I sigh in relief. “Good. Maybe I can get it annulled.”
We turn into an underground parking garage, and Matteo swings his car into a spot near the elevator. That’s when it hits me—I have nowhere to go. I have a decent amount of money in the bank, thanks to my parents, but it will take time to rent or buy a place.
“Is this where you live?” I ask dumbly as he presses his thumb on a small screen next to the elevator doors.
“Yeah, until Henry … I mean Enrique—”
“Enrique?” I repeat. “That’s his real name?”
“Yeah, Enrique Rothschild.”
“Like the Rothschilds?” Wait. “Oh my God. Did my dad”—I lean in even though we’re the only two standing here—“kill his parents?”
Matteo eyes me for a moment, and I can tell he’s debating how to respond, so I add, “Don’t lie to me, please. I was kept in the dark my entire life and look where that got me—married to the enemy.”
“Joseph killed Andrey,” Matteo says, “and in return, your dad killed Joseph.”
The elevator doors open, and Matteo and I get in. He presses his thumb on another screen. The doors close, and the elevator ascends—at least, I’m assuming it does since there are no numbers anywhere on the wall.
“Jesus, did he kill a lot of people?”
I didn’t know my dad well, but I never took him for a killer.
“No. Andrey handled the shady shit. Your dad was all about business. Honestly, I think he did it as revenge for Joseph sleeping with Maria all those years ago.”
“That’s right …” I remember my parents fighting about that.
“My dad was in love with Maria, but she cheated on him with Joseph and got pregnant with Anthony, forcing them to marry,” I recall.
“My mom loved my dad, but there was a part of her that knew she was never his first choice.” I shake my head.
“I never wanted a relationship like that, yet here I am, married to a man who only wanted me for revenge.”
“He’s fucked up,” Matteo says. “He’s proven that. So, don’t blame yourself. He would’ve found a way to get what he wanted regardless.”
“Maybe so … but I definitely made it easier for him.”
“Speaking of,” he adds, “with him on the loose and your brother in jail, you’ll be staying with me until further notice.”
I groan, and his brows furrow.
“I’m not trying to hold you hostage,” he says, misunderstanding, “but—”
“No, I get it. I appreciate you rescuing me and bringing me back here. I just feel bad that you’re being put out.”
“Having a beautiful woman staying here is hardly an imposition.” He smirks playfully, and I imagine the guy could get any woman he wanted with that look alone. “Can you cook? Bake? I take either one as payment.”
I bark out a laugh, and it feels good to be able to do that again, even if my ribs are burning in pain from where Henry—um, Enrique—kicked me.
“I can bake,” I admit. “Although …” I reach out, without thinking, and run the tips of my fingers down his abs over his plain black shirt. “I doubt someone as fit as you eats many sweets.”
The moment I realize what I’m doing, I pull my hand back like it’s on fire. But it’s too late. I’ve already felt him up, every hard ridge, and he’s staring at me like he wants me to touch him some more. But that can’t be right.
I’m me … Lorenzo’s fat little sister, and he’s … well, he’s him. He’s gorgeous and muscular and I’m not trying to sound all woe is me, but c’mon, I’ve seen him in pictures with models on his arm at events over the years. And there’s no way I’m his type.
The elevator dings, and the doors open, but Matteo makes no move to get out.
“I do eat healthy,” he admits, taking a small step toward me. “But I can assure you, I love my sweets.”
His tongue slowly slides along the seam of his lips, and the apex of my legs clenches in response. If I didn’t know better, I would swear he was flirting with me.
“Oh good, you’re back,” a masculine voice says, ending … whatever this was.
I glance around Matteo and notice that his elevator doesn’t lead to a hallway, like one would expect, but instead to an area off the kitchen.
“Private elevator. Perks of owning the building. There’s another elevator just outside the front door that takes you to the main lobby, but I prefer this one, so I don’t have to see anyone,” he says, guiding me inside before pointing to a man standing in the foyer. “You remember my brother, Dominick?”
“Hello,” I say.