55. Arianna
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
ARIANNA
M atteo’s words nearly broke my heart.
As he watched me longingly, dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt, looking like a Roman god visiting the Viking lands, I wondered how long could I possibly last like this.
I was hurting as much as him. I hated myself for wanting him, needing him.
Yet I couldn’t help but ask myself, how could something that felt so right be wrong?
Matteo was home, safety, and everything I’d seen and wished for as I observed my parents’ relationship growing up.
I sacrificed Matteo’s happiness and mine for my sister’s, but what good was it if Matteo refused her regardless?
I spent the past several weeks tossing and turning, sinking into depression only to yank myself out of it and into a numb state. It was the only way I could function these days.
A part of me hoped everything would resolve itself.
The problem was that even if it did, I wouldn’t know, because we were cut off from the world here.
My gaze fell to the folder on the table in front of him.
“That’s for you,” he said, sliding it across the table.
“What is it?”
“Letters. From me.”
My hand was reaching for it before my brain processed his words. I slowly opened the folder, finding neatly stacked letters in Matteo’s handwriting. There were many.
“Why did you write them?” I breathed, my heart drumming against my ribs.
He shrugged. “It’s the only way I could talk to you.”
I picked up the first letter and started reading with trembling fingers and my heart stuck in my throat. It was no wonder I loved this man. Maybe I was biased, but his words were the most beautiful thing I’d ever read.
When I finally lifted my gaze to meet his, I was an emotional mess, at a loss for words. My doubts about Hannah doubled and I started to wonder if maybe I should just focus on us.
Focus on my husband. The word was foreign, but it also felt so right that it sent a soothing wave through me.
“I’ll get dressed for the boat ride,” I finally said, then pushed the chair back and headed back to the bedroom that was the only witness to my struggles over the past four weeks.
Luckily—or unluckily—Matteo had been meticulous in his plans because he packed everything for this kidnapping.
Winter clothes, check. Dresses, check. Lingerie, check. Toiletries, check. Phone, no check.
When I returned, I found him dressed in winter gear, holding a thermos and a parcel wrapped in butcher paper. “You can eat and sip your coffee while I drive.”
This Matteo was the one I grew up with. Thoughtful and kind, always ready to ensure my comfort. It was no wonder I fell in love with him, probably even long before that school shooting.
Gosh, that felt like ages ago.
Two hours later, the boat—more like a mini yacht—drifted across the dark seas while lunch was being served on the enclosed top deck. The space was surrounded by all glass, gas flames flickering in the fireplace centered in the middle of it and keeping us warm as classical music played in the background.
“Do you like the food?” he asked. “It’s fish and chips. The cook is British and insisted on English food.”
I shrugged. “It’s alright.”
He tilted his chin to the plate I’d made up.
“Those cookies aren’t as good as yours.” His eyes locked on me. “Do you want to ask him to make you something else?”
“No.” His lips thinned, which I noticed happened whenever I gave him one-word responses. “I can make something when we get home.”
He went silent, stoic, and remained so for several moments before he asked, “Do you think of it as home?”
The truth was that I felt at home wherever he was, but how could I say that knowing those thoughts were a betrayal to my sister?
Clearing my throat, I said instead, “My dad will find us and then all hell will break loose.”
“You’re my wife. He won’t be taking you away from me.”
“Have you talked to him?” I asked.
Silence.
“Have you talked to Hannah? Gianna?” My voice cracked, but I was only met with more silence. “You can’t keep me from them forever.”
He clutched his fork and knife, cutting into his food, then brought it to his mouth, chewing slowly.
“Matteo!”
“Yes?”
“Are you going to answer me?”
“Considering you were already on the run, Arianna, I’d hardly say I’m keeping you from them.”
My lungs deflated. “But I should at least let them know I’m okay.”
“They know.”
“How?”
“Because I made a global wedding announcement,” he reminded me. “And your dad is a pain in my ass who loves you.”
The corner of my lips tipped up.
“Is he mad at me?”
He poured himself a glass of bourbon, then leaned back in his chair, watching me with a smile. “At you, no. At me… fucking furious.”
Oh.
It dawned on me then. Maybe he was keeping us here because he thought Dad would kill him.
“I can tell him not to hurt you. That I… wanted this.”
One of his brows met his hairline.
“Really?” I nodded slowly. “You’d tell them you want to stay with me? Choose me over your family?”
I released a frustrated breath. “First I have to work out my issues with Hannah.”
I could practically feel the disappointment rolling off him.
“Tell me something. Has Hannah reached out to you since you robbed my pa and took off for Ireland?” Judging by his expression, he already knew the answer to that. “I didn’t think so.”
“That doesn’t mean?—”
He stopped me. “But you reached out to her, didn’t you?”
“Yes.” There was no point in denying it. “Why are you making everything so complicated?”
“I’m not. You are though, by constantly giving in to your sister.” He took a sip of his drink, wearing a dark expression. “But I’ll tell you this, Ari. She better have a damn good explanation for setting the planetarium on fire.” Silence. “Let me give you a hint… There isn’t an answer that could justify putting your life in danger.”
I tilted my chin stubbornly. “I refuse to believe she did that on purpose.”
He brought his drink down with force, making the silverware rattle.
“From now on, it’s you and me, Ari. And as far as I’m concerned, everyone else can fuck off. Staying on this island suits me just fine.”
He went back to eating and silence stretched, broken up only by the soft tunes I didn’t recognize in the background and the scraping of our silverware against the plates.
“You don’t really mean it,” I stated matter-of-factly.
He frowned. “Mean what?”
“About everyone fucking off,” I said. “Firstly, you love your parents and your sister. Secondly, you’re taking over your father’s empire.”
“Whatever’s left of it,” he muttered. “No matter though, because I love you more.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What do you mean?”
He scoffed. “It means, my darling wife, that I love you. You are my life, Ari. My life is pointless and aimless without you.”
Dammit, when he put it like that, how was I supposed to resist him? I shook my head, rephrasing my question. “What did you mean when you said whatever’s left of your dad’s empire?”
“Your dad’s dismantling it. One asset per day.”
My mouth dropped. “And you’re letting him?”
“I’m working on getting it back, but I really wish he’d stop and focus on other issues.”
I frowned.
“What issues?” A dark look entered his eyes but he said nothing. “Fine, I can go back to not talking.” I stood up and went around the table when he grabbed me by my wrist and dropped me on his thigh. “What?—”
“Don’t you dare deprive me of your voice ever again.” His scent instantly hit me and I took a sharp inhale, heat blossoming in my core as I practically rode his thigh. His stubbled chin brushed against my cheek as he whispered in my ear, “Do you hear me, wife?”
I rolled my eyes, feigning this position wasn’t impacting me at all even though every fiber of my being was trembling.
“It’s impossible not to hear you.” There was a thickness in my voice, probably giving me away, and I could feel my walls crumbling down with each passing hour.
“Arianna.” His voice vibrated through my chest. “I have my limits too.”
I licked my lips, my heart thundering as I whispered, “What are they?”
His hand wrapped around my throat, forcing me to look at him while aurora lights reflected in his hazel eyes. “They all start and end with you.”