Chapter Thirty
Erin
I gape at him in shock, mind reeling from what he just told me.
Then he spins around and stomps out of the closet. Seconds later, I hear the front door slamming shut.
‘I had them brought here the day after I found out you were the Ghost.’
What in the ever-loving—
I can’t wrap my mind around this information. They’re not for Jade, but for…me? Why had he stocked clothes for me? Unless…he planned this all along. A sudden chill runs down my spine.
I bolt through the condo to the front door and try the handle. It’s locked.
I try the biometric scanner again. And again. To no avail. I am trapped.
I look around for a terminal I could use to rig the system, but there seems to be no phone, no computer, no tech device whatsoever.
I traipse around the penthouse in search of something, anything useful.
But the search soon becomes an explorative expedition through what feels like a small country.
There are four bedrooms with their own en suite bathroom, the master bedroom I had woken up in, and a sixth room that has been converted into a home office.
But there is no computer in sight, damn him.
I return to the huge living room with the adjoining dining room and the open-plan kitchen.
The floor-to-ceiling windows flood the whole place with light.
I move to the sliding doors and gingerly try the handle.
They open! I step out onto the terrace, curiously looking around.
It takes up half of the roof and looks spectacular with the wooden deck and the lush garden.
There is a swimming corridor lining the whole edge of the building, a dining area, a ten-seater outdoor lounge, and… is that an outdoor bar?
I walk up to the side edge. The high glass walls all around are too high to scale. Not that I wanted to climb over the edge, the height alone makes me dizzy.
No escape this way either .
Subdued, I step back inside the condo. My footsteps are silent on the gleaming floor as I head back into the walk-in closet.
The items he’d thrown in anger still litter the floor. I crouch down and pick one up, a pale cream sweater in the softest cashmere. And the tag is still hanging on it. Matteo was right, it looks too small for Jade’s tall, willowy frame. It is meant for someone my size.
A shiver slithers down my spine.
I check the other items one by one. And sure enough, every damn item still has its price tag attached. And every single one is my size. My throat constricts.
I move to the drawers, fingers trembling as I open them.
What I find there makes my breath catch.
They are full of lingerie from renowned designers.
Silk, lace, whisper-thin fabric in soft pastel colors and blacks.
All of them are my size. I can’t breathe as I picture Matteo picking these out, or, worse, having someone buy them for me.
I turn to the shelves where rows of shoes are lined up and pick up a delicate pair of heels in a pale nude shade. I check the sole. My size. Every. Single. Pair.
My stomach knots. I stumble back, heart pounding.
This isn’t merely obsession. This is deranged.
I need to put something on, anything, and find a way to get out of here.
My fingers slide across the racks of clothing until they land on a pale blue dress.
I slip it over my head. The material is soft and it clings to me like a caress, brushing my bare thighs.
Then I slide on a pair of flats, wondering how my life has so drastically changed in less than twenty-four hours.
He planned all of this. And I was unaware, taunting him with my jibes.
I never suspected this darkness in him, I just thought he was that grumpy enforcer with control issues. Turns out he is way more dangerous.
I need to get out, but first I need a plan. Obviously, breaking out is impossible. I need to force him to open that damn door.
Hence, here I am, standing with my back against the wall next to the front door with a kitchen knife in hand.
The biggest one I could find. This must be the shittiest plan in the universe, but it’s also the only one I’ve come up with.
I feel nausea roil in my gut. I’ve never stabbed anyone, and I don’t know if I have it in me.
But maybe he will be intimidated enough to let me leave?
Suddenly I hear the elevator ding on the other side and the sound of the doors sliding open. My heart is beating loudly and my breath is coming out too fast, I am about to hyperventilate.
There is a beeping sound on the other side and the door pushes open. Matteo steps in and half-turns to close the door. But he stops short when the tip of the knife grazes his throat.
“Let me out, and I won’t hurt you,” I threaten from behind him, hoping he can’t hear the tremble in my voice.
He merely stands there, unmoving and silent.
I shuffle to the side, trying to circle him, but he shifts to block me, still standing half inside the doorframe like a brick wall.
He is so tall that the knife I’m holding is angled in an awkward way, and his broad frame completely fills the door, making it difficult to move past him.
Shit. I have to push him aside to —
A low, rumbling chuckle rolls out of him, turning my blood to ice and making the hairs on my neck stand on end.
What the …
He turns around slowly, until I’m staring at him full on. The knife is still at his throat, but he doesn’t give a damn. He leans into it as if he dares me to draw blood.
And what I see in his eyes makes me let out a desperate whimper.
Because instead of the fear I hoped to find, I see crazed, bone-chilling, unmoored glee.
He looks feral. His lips are curled up in a predatory grin, his gaze is clouded over by madness and now something else is creeping into the black depths. Lust.
Before I can blink, he has his hand clamped around my wrist like a vise, wrenching it until the knife falls to the floor with a loud clatter.
He wraps his other hand around my throat to push me back hard against the front door, making it click shut.
And just like that, my only escape is gone.
And what’s worse, I am trapped in with a feral beast who looks at me like he will devour me.
His large body is caging me against the door and he runs his nose over the side of my face, dragging it slowly down to my throat, inhaling deeply.
“Trying to run?” he murmurs, voice low and terrifyingly calm, like a growl. “You think you can run from me?”
Sheer terror floods me, and I let out a strangled, panicked sob.
His grip tightens around my throat, not enough to cut the air off, but enough to remind me how easily he could crush it if he wanted to.
“Let me go, Matteo!” My voice trembles with fear, but it only makes something in his gaze burn hotter, darker.
“You’re not leaving me, little ghost,” he says, his tone low and final. “Not unless I say so. Do you understand me? You don’t get to walk out, not from me, not ever.”
“You’re insane!” I shout in despair, shoving against his chest. “You don’t own me!”
His laugh is humorless and filled with something almost unhinged as it slithers down my neck like a living thing.
“Don’t I? I’ve been watching you, every second of every day.
Do you know what it’s like to be this close to losing my mind because of you?
You smile, and it’s like you’re mocking me.
You walk past me, and I want to pin you to the wall solely to make you look at me.
You’ve been driving me out of my goddamn mind, Erin. And you know it.”
I am frozen on the spot, my chest heaving.
“Matteo—” I start, but he cuts me off.
“You think I can just let you go?” he hisses, his breath hot against my ear. “I can’t sleep, I can’t focus. You’ve infected every part of me, and I’m done pretending I can hold back. I don’t even know what I’ll do if you keep pushing me. You’re driving me to insanity.”
I try to turn my face away, but his hand is on my jaw now, turning it back toward him, forcing me to see the darkness in his eyes. It’s not just anger, it’s hunger, possession…and unfettered madness.
“You’re never leaving me,” he murmurs, his voice a low and rough whisper. “Not while I still breathe.”
With that, he drags me down the hallway, unyielding as I struggle against his grip.
I thrash and push against him, but he doesn’t let go.
We crash into the bedroom, his grasp still on me.
He shoves me gently but firmly toward the bed.
I take a step back, ready to run, but before I can make a move, he is on me.
“Matteo! Stop! You can’t just—”
“Can’t I?” His voice cracks with a mix of rage and determination. “You think I care about lines anymore? About rules? You’re mine, Erin. And if I have to keep you here to make you see that, I will.”
He fists the fabric of my dress, yanking me closer. I hear the faint tear of fabric.
“I— Matteo, let go!” I push at his shoulders, but he is relentless and the strength in him both terrifies and unnerves me.
Then, with one hard pull from his hand, the dress rips at the seam, making me fall backward on the bed.