51. Rosalie #2
“You promised you wouldn’t hurt me,” I said nervously.
He chuckled. “And I will not harm a hair on your pretty little head, bel fiore. I need to know that what you feel is real and that you will not hurt my son.”
“I can’t be with him,” I said, knowing I needed to be honest. “Enzo and the guys won’t allow it. Fox and Ethan may, but Enzo and Cole would never.”
“And if they said yes, would you?”
“I don’t like these questions,” I said hoarsely. “They make me feel like I’m-I’m cheating. Please don’t make me answer.”
He studied me thoughtfully before nodding.
“And Fox. Do you love him and intend to remain with him?”
“Yes. I will never leave him.”
“If forced to choose between Fox and Lorenzo, who would you choose?”
I fidgeted, wishing Anson would come back. Matteo’s questions were too much. Answering them wasn’t something I could do.
“Pick. You must choose.”
“I can’t,” I said, my voice low.
“You can. Fox or Lorenzo. Tell me. Our secret.”
“Fox,” I choked out. “He’s my best friend. If I had to choose, I’d choose Fox, but I’d break because I love Enzo and would miss him with everything I am.”
“Do you choose Fox because you do not love the life Lorenzo has given you?”
I nodded miserably. I hated it here. Leaving couldn’t happen soon enough.
“So you are madly in love with Lorenzo De Luca but hate this life. How ever did you fall for him?”
“I didn’t think it would be like this.”
“And now that it is?” He watched me closely.
“I wish it wasn’t.”
“Ah, you’re set to be his bride: Rosalie De Luca, queen of a thriving empire. You must be strong if you’re going to wear a crown. Are you strong?”
“No.”
He ran his fingertips lightly along my cheek over my bruises and swelling.
“Do not lie to me. We discussed this. A weak woman would not endure what you have. You are strong. Tell me.”
“I-I’m strong.”
“Do you believe it?”
I licked my lips.
“Tell me again, Rosalie Bishop. Tell me how strong you are.”
“I’m strong. I’m a survivor.”
His eyes sparkled. “Yes. Yes, you are, pretty little flower. You are truly… perfect.”
I had no idea where he was going with any of this, and I did not want to know. All I wanted was for Anson to come back and keep me safe.
“I cannot wait to see what you accomplish in life.” He paused for a moment. “You could have anything you wanted with your last name as De Santis.”
“Whatever I get in life will be because I earned it, not because I aligned myself with a name as a means to get ahead.”
He grinned at me. “I like you. A lot. Alessandro chose well.”
I stiffened as he leaned into me. His lips brushed against my cheek before he whispered in my ear.
“Do not disappoint me, bel fiore. I am going to give you the world. This is my vow to you. ” He pulled away just as Anson returned to the room, holding a sandwich, a glass of juice, and a bottle of water.
“Father,” he greeted Matteo as Matteo stood. I could hear the tightness in Anson’s voice as he came to me and offered me the peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
I laughed softly as an image of Matteo in his pajamas popped into my head. In it, he was snacking on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It seemed odd for a man like him to keep in his home. I imagined him only eating gourmet meals prepared by the finest chef.
“What’s so funny?” Matteo asked.
“I was envisioning you eating a peanut butter and jelly,” I admitted, knowing if I lied, he’d give me the speech about liars and bad things happening to them when they did it under his roof. “You don’t seem like someone who would like such an innocent food.”
Matteo smirked at me. “Peanut butter and jelly is my favorite. Why do you think I have it in my home if not to enjoy it?”
“Really?” I asked. I glanced at Anson to see the frazzled look on his face.
“Truly,” he answered, smiling at me. “What is your favorite jam?”
I bit my bottom lip, my mind blown. I was conversing with one of the most dangerous men in the world.
“I like grape jam,” I said.
Matteo nodded, his eyes sparkling. He didn’t look like a cruel killer as he stared back at me, but I learned long ago not to judge a book by its cover.
“I also like grape. Strawberry is a close second. Sometimes, though, I do prefer peanut butter and honey.”
“I’ve never tried that.”
“You should. Perhaps Alessandro can make that for you next time. However, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches aren’t a meal. I’ll be sure to have something prepared for you this evening. Do you like Italian food?”
I nodded. “I-I do.”
“Perfect. I’ll have something made. Perhaps you and Alessandro could join me for dinner if you feel well enough.”
“Yeah. Maybe,” I murmured, confused about who this man was. He was nothing like I’d heard, but maybe he was just a good actor.
Matteo studied me for a moment before he spoke. “Alessandro, my office later, please.”
“Of course, Father,” Anson answered.
“Rosalie, a real pleasure.” Matteo gave me another smile before he left the room, leaving us alone.
“Did he scare you?” Anson asked, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.
“Yes,” I admitted.
“He has that effect on people,” he mumbled. He went quiet as I ate. “LeeLee? About the other night with the club. I said some stupid shit to you, and I want you to know I’m sorry. It didn’t mean anything. It was just drunk talk?—”
A pang shot through my heart at his words. I didn’t want them to mean nothing. I didn’t want to be nothing to him. In the end, nothing was all we could ever be, though.
“Ani, it’s fine, OK? I understand,” I said in a quiet voice. “I’m not mad.”
He let out a breath. “I’d really like to come back. To be your friend again if you’ll have me.”
“I’d like that,” I said, giving him a sad smile. “But only if you promise to stay this time.”
“Hell couldn’t keep me away,” he replied, his blue eyes on mine.
I squeezed his hand, the butterflies bouncing in my chest, and finished my sandwich, my heart filled with worry and pain.
I did hate it here, and here, as I was quickly learning, consisted of everything and everywhere.
My life was becoming too painful to exist in.
But Ani made it better.
I could admit that much.