Chapter 12 Matteo
MATTEO
I drive all the way back to my house, keeping a keen eye on her in the rearview mirror. She’s not spoken a word since I put her down in my back seat, but her eyes are on me like a hawk.
I know she doesn’t like me.
It’s been clear from day one that she wants nothing more than to escape my grasp.
In fact, she tried to kill me over her imprisonment, and I don’t blame her. I would have killed me too if I were locked in this house with a monster like me.
I clear my throat. “Are you okay back there?”
She doesn’t respond, but after a while, she softly nods.
I smile at her. “I won’t let anyone touch you ever again. I promise.”
I drive through the gates of my property, and her eyes slide over the fence as if she’s registering the moment that she’s turned into a prisoner once more.
A pang hits me in the stomach worse than any bullet ever has.
I try to focus on driving toward my mansion, but it’s hard when I can feel her incessant gaze on me. I know what I did, but I’m not going to go back on my vow or my quest for revenge. I made her my wife, and I will carry that burden until the end of time.
I park my car in the garage in front of my house and exit the vehicle, then pull out my phone and dial a number.
“Leticia, contact the garage for me. I need them to fix my car as soon as possible,” I say.
“Of course, sir, right away.”
“Thank you.”
“Did you find Stella?”
“Yes. I’m bringing her in.”
I end the conversation and tuck the phone back into my pocket, then walk over to her side and open the door. I hold out my hand, but she just looks at me like she still doesn’t know how to trust me.
“Please,” I ask.
Her smile tips up, just briefly, but I notice.
Finally, she takes my hand.
“I’m glad you decided to come back inside,” I say.
“I liked hearing you say please,” she says.
My brow wriggles. “I can say it more often if it means you’ll stop trying to escape … or kill me.”
She rolls her eyes and rubs her lips together to hide her grin.
I take her back inside, where the staff immediately hounds her.
“Oh my God, you’re back,” Sarah says, immediately running up to hug Stella tightly, who seems extremely overwhelmed. “I was so worried about you.”
“I…” she stutters.
“Let me take you to your room, miss,” Sarah says. “Come on.” Sarah grabs her hand and guides her up the stairs.
“Be gentle with her. She’s been through a lot,” I say.
Sarah nods. “I will, sir. Don’t worry about us. I have this.”
I watch as they go upstairs, but Stella’s legs are still quivering from shock.
Am I doing the right thing by leaving her alone with Sarah? What can a man like me even do in this situation? Those fuckers were about to do the most unspeakable things to her. How could she ever trust any man again?
Besides, I’m the cause of all her misery, and the reason she ended up in their car in the first place.
I breathe out a sigh and run my fingers through my hair, groaning out loud. Every decision up until now has been so damn easy. All my life, I’ve only had to worry about continuing the business, the legacy. But then my mother was murdered, and my fixation moved to that bastard Lucio.
But now Stella is involved too. And I can’t shake this damn confusion about what to do with her, along with the emotional turmoil in my heart, making me question every one of my decisions.
I waltz into my study, grab the bottle of scotch in the corner, and pour myself a much-needed glass, which I chug down in one go. It does nothing to quell the burning rage fueled from deep within.
Something’s different about me. My desire for revenge is slowly molding into something else, something more unpredictable, uncontrollable…
A type of yearning.
Stella
I shiver from head to toe, the adrenaline still rushing through my veins, as Sarah guides me into my room and locks the door behind her. She gently brings me to the guest bed, sets me down, and smiles at me before going into the bathroom to grab a soft towel and a small bucket of water.
She dips the towel into the bucket and gently dabs it onto my face, cleaning off the dirt and blood of the men Matteo blew to smithereens. Their insides must be all over my bathrobe.
Suddenly, everything begins to itch, and I stand and tear off the bathrobe until I’m completely naked.
“Well, okay then,” Sarah mutters. “You want me to grab you a new one?”
“Get rid of it. Please,” I beg.
“Sure, no problem at all. We have plenty more,” she says, still smiling so sickly sweet it makes me nauseous. Then she walks off toward the closet, while I look around the room.
God. I can’t believe I’m back here in this place I tried so desperately to escape from.
Damn this beautiful prison.
I look at my hands, which are still shaking from the ordeal, and I sink onto the floor, bawling my eyes out.
“Oh, no…” Sarah runs to me and wraps her arms around me. “Don’t cry.”
It’s not her fault. None of this is.
But I was nearly …
Nearly …
Fuck.
“Please, don’t be upset,” Sarah says.
“I’m not. It’s just that … it’s a lot to process.”
She tightens her hold. “I understand.”
I lean away. “I’m okay. Don’t worry about me.”
“That’s difficult after watching you escape like that,” she responds, making me laugh.
“Sorry,” I say.
“Don’t be. Matteo just needs to learn how to be a little … nicer to you,” she says. “That’s all.”
She grabs the sponge again and starts dabbing my skin, cleaning off every inch of me until the blood and dirt are gone and my body looks like nothing ever happened to it.
“There, much better,” she says.
She holds out a pair of leggings and a comfy-looking white sweater. “Put this on before you get cold.”
I can’t even protest as she throws the sweater over my head.
“Thanks,” I reply.
“That’s my job, miss. I’m here to take care of your every need, just as Matteo asked.”
Matteo really wants me to be taken care of, and that’s exactly what grates me so much.
How can a man I tried to kill still harbor so much kindness for me?
He hates Lucio so much that he stole me away from him, yet he hasn’t laid a single finger on me despite turning me into a pawn in his game of revenge.
Suddenly, my stomach growls, and I’m too late to hide the noise from Sarah.
She looks up at me. “You want me to fetch you some food? Or if you want, you can come downstairs with me, and I’ll prepare some for you in the kitchen.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to go anywhere right now.”
She nods. “Of course, I totally understand. Just stay right here, and I’ll grab some food for you. No problem.”
She walks off and closes the door behind her, leaving me all to myself with the wild thoughts raging through my head.
I can’t believe I narrowly escaped getting taken by three disgusting men …
And that Matteo just shot them all in the head like it was easy for him.
He protected me, just like he said he would, regardless of whether it would cost someone their life.
He rescued me.
I shudder in disbelief. The bloodied image of the men’s bodies strewn about the road still haunts me.
It’s as if I’m still there near the wreckage of their car, shivering in fear at what they almost did to me …
And Matteo’s hand, kindly offered to me in a moment of desperation.
I wanted nothing more than to grab it and hold on tight.
A fuzzy warmth fills my body while I stare at these hands that held his as he pulled me up from the ground and carried me back to his car.
Not once did he try to punish me for running away even though I know I did, and I know he hates it. Could it be …?
A sudden noise coming from the bathroom makes me lift my head, and I get up from the floor and step a little closer to see what the hell is going on.
There’s a guy right outside my window, placing one bar after the other, tightly sealing in the window so no one will ever be able to crawl out of it again.
The hopeful feeling that lingered in my heart gets shut down immediately. Of course, Matteo immediately bars my only way out. Now that he knows how I got out, he doesn’t want it to happen again.
And I was wrong to think that he’d ever change.
A few days later
When my door opens, I stop brushing my hair in the mirror and wait until the person knocking on my door reveals themselves.
“May I come in?”
It’s him. Matteo.
I haven’t seen him since we last spoke, and I wonder whether he wanted to give me some time to myself or was too mad to speak to me.
I swallow away the lump in my throat and say, “Come in,” as I put the brush down on the boudoir beside the mirror.
The door swings open, and he steps inside, clearing his throat. I glance up at him through the mirror, and our eyes connect in a shared moment of silence while the door closes behind him.
Has he come to scold me for my escape?
I keep a watchful eye on him, unsure of his intentions as he walks closer to me. He stops before he’s in reach.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
“Considering the circumstances? Good,” I reply, and I throw a look at the window in my bathroom, which is now barred off completely.
It didn’t take long for him to figure out how I escaped.
He keeps his gaze settled on mine through the mirror. “I seem to have underestimated your ability to crawl through narrow gaps. I’m impressed.”
“That’s not the only thing you underestimated,” I quip.
He tilts his head. “True.”
“That’s a mistake I won’t allow you to make a second time,” I add.
A filthy grin forms on his face. “Good. Keeps me on edge.”
“Have you come to gloat in your victory, seeing me back in my place here?”
His brows flinch downward. “It’s only temporary.”
“Right. Just like keeping me a prisoner in this house is.” I look right back at him.
“One escape was enough,” he says.
“So you barred off my only way out of this house like a prison guard would? Fantastic.”