Chapter 8 Matteo
MATTEO
“He marries today,” Alessio commented as we sat in my lounge, playing pool. He took his shot and sank his ball before going in for another as I watched from my seat.
“A fool,” Klaus muttered, shaking his head.
I nodded my agreement. “Lorenzo De Luca is as smart as his father was.”
“We liked Anthony,” Alessio pointed out.
I grunted. “That was a long time ago. Then he took Delilah. And Anna. And it is the difference. I do not like Lorenzo. At least with Anthony, I gave a modicum of shit once upon a time.”
“Anna was his sister-in-law,” Klaus said. “Technically, she went willingly.”
“She went because I was a worthless husband and she feared me,” I said, swirling my whiskey in my glass. “And not a great father.”
“She went because your father told her to go,” Alessio said, missing his shot and cursing softly. Klaus stepped up to play his turn.
“You know this,” Alessio continued. “It’s a moot point, my brother. Why dwell on it?”
“Because maybe I could have made it work,” I said before shaking my head. I didn’t know what the hell was the matter with me. I was never this weeping guy. Lately, I’d been struggling, and I knew it was because of the things Sylar told me.
Things I knew couldn’t be undone.
We all had a part to play, after all.
He still hadn’t sold me on any of it, though.
And then there was Bianca. I was drawn to her like a moth to flame. I found myself standing outside her bedroom countless times, eager to open the door, if only to see her face.
I’d step back each time because she currently belonged to Alessandro, and I did not want a rift with my boy. He said he’d marry her. Real or not, it didn’t matter. In all senses of the word, she belonged to him now.
“I’m just tired,” I muttered. “I need to get out of this house.”
“We can get women to Klaus’s.” Alessio looked over at Klaus.
“They are dirty and don’t clean up. No.” Klaus shook his head. “Every time you bring a woman to my place, they get drunk and throw up and leave beer cans and wine bottles. I’m not running a college dormitory.”
Alessio chuckled. “Take one for the team.”
“I have taken several. Let’s go to your place,” Klaus countered.
Alessio scoffed. He hated bringing women to his place. He was a bit of a strange man in that respect. He’d rent a hotel room to fuck in before hauling a woman to his high-rise.
“We can stay in. I am not so hard up that I feel like listening to Alessio bitch about his leather sofa getting middle-class pussy on it.” I drank some bourbon and looked out my window at the darkening sky. “Where is Drake?”
“Likely sulking in his room.” Alessio shot and missed, cursing softly again.
That seemed likely. All that kid did was sulk. His catching me coming out of Bianca’s room had been mildly uncomfortable. I knew he had a thing for her. She was free to have him if she wanted. I assumed if Dominic was against it, he’d simply have him killed.
It was no business of mine.
We continued to play pool, each taking turns on the winner until we’d had a little too much to drink. Klaus and Alessio went to their rooms upstairs, and I sat around, drinking another glass.
By nine, I was standing outside Bianca’s door, staring at it like it would open and tell me the secrets of the world.
What am I doing?
I shook my head. Alessandro had left earlier in the day, so Bianca had been confined to her room again after he left.
I closed my eyes for a moment before blowing out a breath and coming to a decision.
I opened her door and stepped into the darkness. The moonlight cut a sliver of light across her face as she slumbered.
I moved forward and stood over her, watching as she slept. Long blonde hair. Perfect pink lips. Lashes that fanned across her cheeks.
“Why are you lurking in my room?” she mumbled, her eyelids cracking open. “Shouldn’t you be ruining someone else’s life?”
A soft, sad laugh left me. “It’s late. I’m saving other lives for tomorrow, sweet princess.”
She sat up, rubbed the sleep from her eyes, and stared at me.
“You’re drunk.”
“I am… comfortable,” I said delicately. “Not drunk.”
“Do you do this with all your captives?” She gestured around.
“You’re my only captive.”
She moved to stand, and I let her. I watched as she went into the attached bathroom and closed the door. Blowing out a breath, I settled on the edge of her bed, wondering what the hell I was doing. It didn’t make sense for me to be in here.
Sylar said…
She returned before I could continue the thought. I looked over at her as she settled next to me on the bed.
“Matteo?”
“Bianca?”
“Can…Can we go downstairs and eat something?” She rubbed her stomach.
“Of course,” I said, frowning. “I did not realize you were hungry.”
“I’m always hungry,” she grumbled. “I appreciate the three balanced meals every day, but sometimes I just want ice cream, pickles, and maybe some pizza.”
“You want pizza now?”
Her eyes widened. “Olives, cheese, and peppers?”
“Truly?”
She nodded eagerly and rubbed her swollen belly again. “And chocolate ice cream. No, cookies and cream. No… oh, maybe vanilla with caramel sauce. And whipped cream. With a cherry. And a pickle.”
I laughed softly and got to my feet. “I am sure we can figure something out. Come.”
She eagerly took my hand, allowing me to lead her from the room.
I did not think I had any of those things in the house, but I had Frank. He’d be irritated for the grocery run, but he’d do it.
Frank was decent like that.
“You don’t need to hang out with me,” Fox—now Evan—muttered as I sat in the chair beside his bed. I spent a fair amount of time in and out to check on him. Some days he seemed better, others not so much. Today was one of those in-between days. Or nights, rather.
“I enjoy spending time with you,” I answered.
He grunted and continued to stare at the wall. It was late, and I hadn’t expected him to be awake, but there he was, staring at the wall like always.
“Lorenzo took a bride today,” I said, deciding he should know such things.
He let out a soft, angry huff. “Fucking prick.”
I didn’t disagree. “I expect to hear it all over the news. Wedding Celeste Vander Veer is a big deal.”
He shook his head, a muscle thrumming along his jaw.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I ventured.
A sour laugh slipped from him. “Is Rosalie safe?”
“She is. Alessandro is keeping watch.”
He grunted again. “Did he say that she’s OK? I worry she’s not dealing with things very well.”
“She has struggled,” I said gently. “But it is to be expected. She is surrounded by an excellent support system right now. She will prevail. She is strong.”
“She is,” he murmured. “When can I go to her?”
“Soon,” I replied. “You need to be stronger first. You can barely walk. You have much to overcome. You want to be the best version of yourself before you return to her.”
“I’m a fucking mess,” he muttered. “My face. My scars. My eye…” His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Fuck.”
“We can work on those things, Evan. I promise we can. I have more doctors coming in tomorrow. Physical therapy, psychologist, all of it. You will be better.”
“And if I’m not? The dreams…” He wiped at his eyes. “I-I can still feel him i-inside my body. I can’t erase the way it felt. H-How I felt.”
I ground my teeth together at his words. He hadn’t spoken much to any of us about his trauma, and I assumed that it was far too painful.
I exhaled. “We can talk about it if you want.”
“He fucked me,” he whispered, his voice wavering. “So many times. One time, he made E watch. I-I don’t know what things he even did to E. I-Is he OK?”
“He lives,” I said. “He is… working on it. At least from what I’ve heard.”
Evan closed his eyes and breathed out. “I want Everett to die. Slowly. Painfully. But maybe not all at once. A long, drawn-out process so he knows how it feels to be tortured.”
“He will,” I said. “I will see to it. Everett Church will pay for what he did to you. I promise.”
He nodded. “I hope so.”
“I know someone who does remarkable work with tattoos,” I said, wanting to change the subject so he wasn’t in so much pain over his memories.
“Yeah?” He looked at me with interest. I took it and ran with it.
I unbuttoned my shirt and took it off so he could see the sleeve tattoos that ran down both my arms and across my chest.
“Wow,” he murmured, eyeing them. “Those are really good. Endure?”
“All things,” I answered, explaining the tattooed word across my chest. “It’s what victims do. They endure.”
“You’re a victim?” he asked as I put my shirt back on.
“I am. I-I was hurt many times as a child. It was a way to toughen me up. I was a softer boy. I liked to read. I liked playing music and writing lyrics. I was quite gifted at it. My parents did not see it as something I should be doing. So I endured years of abuse because of it.” I paused and studied him.
I hadn’t spoken about my abuse in many years, if at all.
“I was… like you, but I was younger when it happened,” I whispered, unable to get the words out without my voice shaking.
“Rinaldo Church. Everett’s adoptive father.
He was in charge of the underground until Everett took over.
He was my father’s—your grandfather’s— best friend.
I was given to him to toughen up. I… he…
” I frowned, my brows crinkling as I tried to get the images in my head to go away.
“You don’t have to relive it,” Evan said gently. “I get it.”
I looked at him. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ve ever really talked about it. Only with Santino. Your father.”
Evan’s bottom lip wobbled. “Did they hurt my dad, too?”
“We all suffered,” I whispered. “No one was immune. And we endured.” I breathed out.
“Do you hate my dad? For leaving?”
I was quiet for a moment before answering. “I did once. I don’t now. I understand his reasoning. It hurt. I suppose it still does, but I do not hate him. He was my best friend growing up. We were all each other had. I only want the best for him.”
“He would want that for you, too.”
I nodded. I knew he would. At least I hoped he would.
We were quiet again.
“Matteo?”
“Yes?”
“I-I think I’d like to meet the tattoo artist that you know. I’ve always wanted a tattoo, and now it seems like fate is pushing me toward it.”
“OK. I can bring him in to consult with you,” I said immediately. “I will call him tomorrow.”
He smiled at that, his mood shifting to something lighter.
That’s really all I wanted.
He deserved a break and a little bit of happiness.