Chapter Forty-Three
Erin
I am floating. There is a steady beeping sound.
I slowly open my eyes. And swiftly close them.
The light is too bright. I feel dizzy. There is shuffling next to me and a large, warm hand wraps around mine and firm lips brush over my forehead.
Matteo. His cologne flows into my lungs and soothes my soul like a summer rain.
“Mmmteo.” My voice comes out croaky and unrecognizable.
“Shh, amore , don’t talk.” His voice sounds hoarse.
I blink slowly, letting my eyes adjust to the light. The first thing I see are his eyes, dark brown and grounding. The relief I can see in them is raw and devastating.
Suddenly people are rushing in and Matteo moves to stand next to my head to allow them access.
Nurses. I frown. Then I remember. Have I been unconscious?
For almost an hour, the nurses bustle about, examining me from head to toe and a nurse holds out a glass with a straw.
Before I can sip from it, Matteo rips it from her grip and holds it out to me.
I sip obediently, the cool water clearing my head and alleviating the soreness in my throat.
Then a doctor steps forward and casts a glance toward Matteo, who practically growls at him.
But the doc is either used to dealing with grumpy Mafia enforcers, or he is very confident of his value. He doesn’t back down.
“Only family allowed, Mr. Di Rossi. If you are not family, I am afraid that you will have to wait outside until I’ve spoken to my patient.”
“The fuck I’ll go out,” he snarls.
“I am sorry, sir, but those are the rules,” the doc insists.
“I fucking co-own this clinic,” he snaps.
“Then you know that those are your own rules.”
They glare silently at each other over my bed for several seconds and I am beginning to enjoy the entertainment, so I decide to let them bicker some more before I intervene.
Matteo caves first.
“Motherfucker,” he curses. He lets out a frustrated breath and turns to me. “ Amore .”
I look up at him with a barely suppressed chuckle at the exasperation written all over his face.
“Marry me.”
“Wh-what?” I squawk. Of all the things I expected him to say …
“Marry me,” he demands again, a stubborn set to his jaw.
This man is definitely deranged.
“Yes…” I hear myself reply. “I’ll marry you.” I probably bumped my head harder than I thought, my brain is not in control of my mouth anymore.
A slow grin spreads across Matteo’s face and he leans down to kiss me gently on the lips. Then he turns toward the doc with a victorious smirk.
“You’ve heard, I’m her fiancé. Congratulations accepted.”
The doc glowers at him for a beat longer, then he looks at me, probably to assess if he should have my head rechecked.
I let out a quiet chuckle, still feeling too weak to laugh out loud.
But I smile at the physician and nod my consent.
He asks me for the circumstances of my injuries and I recount them as best as I can remember.
He then proceeds to explain my condition, but all I am able to hear is “dehydration,” “concussion” and “no brain damage” before my eyes drift shut again and sleep pulls me under.
I dream of floating in a very nice smelling cloud of familiar cologne and of warm hands holding me while firm lips are brushing over mine.
When I open my eyes again, Lily and Damiano are there. Lily jumps up to hug me.
“Oh my God, Erin. I was so worried!” Her voice breaks. I find that I am strong enough to lift my arm to hug her back.
“Lily. Good to see you, too.” My voice is stronger now, even though it still sounds rusty.
Out of nowhere, a glass with a straw appears in my line of sight.
I look up to see Matteo holding out the glass.
He has dark circles under his eyes, and his usually perfect stubble seems a bit scruffy.
He looks disheveled like he has been raking his fingers through his hair.
But the intensity of his eyes is the same as always, and they are solely focused on me. There is so much I need to tell him.
A throat clears and I snap my gaze away, feeling heat creeping up my cheeks. Damiano is standing behind Lily and smirks down at me. “Good to see that you are awake, Erin. The signal was a genius move.”
I smile up at him and Lily. Then I remember Lydia and I bolt upright, only to be plastered against a very broad and delicious smelling chest.
“ Amore , no sudden movements.” Matteo’s voice rumbles against my ear.
I push back a fraction to look up into his eyes. “Matteo, there was another woman with me, Lydia. Did she…did you—”
“Yes, we rescued her. She is two floors up, being taken care of. She was in a bad state of malnourishment. Jade is with her.”
I nod, relieved. “And…Rourke?”
Matteo looks up at Damiano and a silent conversation goes on before he leans down to me again. “He’s dead.”
I nod again. “Okay…” I don’t know what happened, but from what I saw, I know that I won’t be mourning him. “And Manticore?”
Their faces darken. “Rourke was working with a large web of corrupted politicians and cops, we’re still digging,” Damiano chimes in.
I nod.
Then Lily hugs me a last time and they leave, letting Chiara and Lucas come in for a few minutes before Matteo shoos them out unceremoniously.
I sit up and slide my legs out of the bed. But before they touch the floor, Matteo has me in his arms.
“Do you need to go to the bathroom? I’ll carry you.”
“No, I am feeling strong enough to walk, just let me down so I can see for myself.” I roll my eyes.
“I’ll carry you,” he insists. Before I can protest, we are in the small bathroom that feels even smaller with his bulk cramped inside. He puts me down and holds my hands to steady me.
It turns out I can perfectly stand on my own. “I’m good, you can go.”
“No,” he all but growls.
“Matteo, I want to use the bathroom, I can’t do it with you inside!”
“We’re getting married, there’s nothing you can hide from me.”
“I’m not hiding,” I cry out in frustration.
“I want privacy when I go to the bathroom!” He merely scowls down at me and I feel the need to aggravate him.
“And about that proposal, it’s the worst proposal ever.
I’m not even sure it’s morally acceptable, since I was confused because of the concussion. ”
His eyes are on me, hard and unblinking.
“In that case, I’ll ask you again and again, every damn day until my last breath, as long as your reply stays the same.
As for the validity, you heard the doc, you seem to suffer from no memory loss or from confusion, so your point is moot.
” He gently pulls me to him. “Looks like you are mine, irrevocably and eternally mine, little ghost.”
I laugh, although my heart is beating like a drum in my chest. “Fine, whatever, big guy. But now get out, I need privacy.” I push him out and this time he doesn’t resist.
* * * *
The next day, I am discharged and, unsurprisingly, Matteo carries me up to his penthouse and into the shower where he washes me with heartbreaking tenderness.
I wince when I see my face in the mirror.
My lower lip is split and my cheeks are bruised.
My right eye still looks a bit swollen, but it’s not hurting.
Beyond that and the slight ache on the back of my head, I guess I’m fine.
Matteo wraps me in one of his shirts and throws on a pair of black jeans and a black T-shirt. Then he gently sets me down on the couch when I assure him that I’m good and I don’t need to sleep. He brings me a glass of water, covers me in a throw blanket and suddenly, everything else fades.
I feel the mood shift.
“Matteo,” I start. “I wanted to tell you about…the message.”
“I’ve found your folder, little ghost.” He is kneeling on the rug in front of me, caging me in with a hand on either side of my thighs.
“Oh…okay.” I let out a shaky breath. “Then you saw where it came from.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I…” I nervously lick my lips, unnerved by his closeness. “I wanted to, a million times. I swear. But…I don’t know,” I admit, looking into his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t trust me enough.” His voice is raw.
“I’m sorry I didn’t, but I trust you now.”
He looks at me and the intensity is undoing me. “You could have been seriously hurt, or worse,” he grits out. “Because you. Didn’t. Trust. Me.” His gravelly voice is laced with agony.
I lift a hand to his face to appease him. “Matteo, I’m okay, you came to get me. You saved me…us.”
He lifts his hand to gently hold the back of my neck and he puts his forehead against mine.
“I nearly lost you. I thought I had…” His voice falters.
“And by God, amore , I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe.
I was drowning when you disappeared and I couldn’t find you.
” He closes his eyes and lets out a shuddering breath.
“I can’t fucking breathe when I’m not near you. I need you, little ghost. You own me.”
He opens his eyes again and cups my jaw to lift my face to his, making sure that I see the unconcealed yearning in them. My heart is pounding wildly in my chest.
“Erin, I love you. I’ve loved you the moment my eyes fell on you at that club. I’ve loved you even harder when you kicked me in the shin, so unafraid and infuriating.”
I huff out a laugh and he chuckles. But then he is serious again.
“You’ve been haunting me from the day I laid eyes on you. But I was a bastard. I pushed you away because I wanted to keep you out of the darkness I live in. But I’m done pretending.”
His hand dips into his pocket and my heart stops.
“I had this made before you ever came back to me. I thought we’d never see each other again, and still, I couldn’t let go of the memory of you.
This way I had a little part of you—of us—always with me,” he murmurs, pulling out a small, black velvet box.
When he opens it, I see a dark platinum band shaped like twisted vines, cradling a single black diamond in the center.
Around it are smaller violet diamonds. My heart stutters. It’s so…us. It’s perfect.
“You are my world, the air I breathe. Be mine forever, marry me.”
My breath hitches and his words loop in my head. He… loves me .
“Yes, Matteo,” I whisper. “I love you too, and I will marry you.”
He looks at me with serious eyes. “You…love me?”
I nod with a smile. “Couldn’t you tell from the way I tried my hardest to annoy you?”
He chuckles.
Then he exhales slowly and takes my hand to slip the ring on my finger. It fits perfectly. He leans down to capture my lips in a tender, scorching kiss. But then he tenses and slowly pulls back, every muscle coiled as if it costs him. I whine in protest and pull him by his shirt back toward me.
“Little ghost, you’re hurt. We can’t—”
I huff. “Of course we can. I’m not dying, Matteo, I hit my head, that’s all.”
“You almost died,” he growls, intensifying his hold around me. “But I swear, you will never face hell alone again. I’ll never let anything or anyone hurt you.”
“Things happen. Hurt is part of life and you can’t shield me from living.” I pat his shoulder, suppressing a smile.
“Damn well I can, and if I have to keep you locked in here to keep you safe, I will.” He glares down at me, eyes narrowed.
I scoff. “You’re impossible.”
“That’s why you love me,” he says with a smirk.
“Maybe what I love is just your bank account,” I tease with a fake-dramatic eye-roll.
“Then you’re lucky, because it’s…really impressive.” He looks at me with a slow predatory smile.
“Mmmh, now I’m intrigued.”
He pushes me back against the couch and starts to crawl over me with a hungry gaze.
“Let me show you.”