Chapter 15
Brook Simons
As the class members pair up and head toward the door, I yank the pads off Matteo and try to hide my mirth as he winces. His focus intensifies on my lips and he frowns. My insides clench and fear skitters down my spine despite the laughter lurking in his eyes.
I drop the chest pads onto the narrow bench and reach for the disinfectant spray.
Audrey walks up and stands next to me, just opposite Matteo. She thanks him and gives me the half-hug that’s kept me grounded for the past eight years.
Pride flows through me at her nonchalance despite Matteo’s presence as she gives me a squeeze. When we first met, she broke out in a cold sweat and couldn’t speak every time a man walked into the room, but she’s worked hard and conquered her fears. Mostly.
We’ve bonded through our trauma, and even though we rarely see each other outside the gym, I consider her my closest friend.
Audrey slips out as quietly as she arrived, leaving me alone with a hulking beast. The hunger in his gaze as he studies me from head to toe lights a fire in my blood, but the pain in my body dampens my enjoyment.
I should send Matteo away so I can nurse my wounds in peace, but I long for the safety of his arms.
My heart lurches in my chest as I realize the depths of my addiction after only one day of intimacy with him.
Concern creases his brow. I fill my lungs and hold my breath as I disinfect the padding, avoiding the harsh chemicals and willing my emotions under control.
Without a word, he helps me reset the room for the late-night gym bros as they begin filtering in. When I weave my fingers into his and tug him after me, he kisses my knuckles and follows me with a smile.
I grab the shopping bag on my way to the hall. The high-quality material seems out of place under the harsh fluorescent lighting.
“Why’d you have that delivered to a gym?” Matteo asks.
I chew the inside of my lip before ducking my head into the office.
“Thanks, Mr. Carter. I’m heading up for the night. This is Matteo. He’s with me, so don’t cripple him if you see him sneaking out in the morning,” I say.
Wizened old eyes lift and scrutinize my partner. He grunts and tucks his head back into his logbook.
I lead Matteo to the stairs. He quirks a brow at the out of order sign on the elevator, but I tug him after me, afraid I’ll lose my nerve if I slow my pace.
With a lump of emotions in my throat, I lunge up the stairs, stride down the narrow exposed-brick hall, take my key out of my pocket, and unlock my door.
He follows me into my apartment without an ounce of hesitation despite his surprise. I shut and lock the door before tossing my keys into my purse and grabbing my phone off the single countertop. His presence makes my studio apartment seem matchbox tiny.
I never thought I’d invite anyone into my sanctuary, yet Matteo Ricco, my first crush and biggest heartbreak, stands a few feet inside the door. On the verge of overwhelm, I ignore him and focus on my phone.
“I’m sorry I missed your calls. I never take—”
My throat closes as he wraps his arms around me from behind. Emotions quake through me. Relief, pain, and misery threaten to shake me apart. I close my eyes and focus on regulating my breathing.
“How long have you lived here?” he asks.
I clear my throat, but my brain refuses to form words. The ache in my muscles from exerting myself in class loses its glow and joins the cacophony of humiliation and pain in my body.
“Brook?”
His voice sounds from far away despite his chest vibrating against my back. With heart-wrenching gentleness, he turns me around to face him. A sob wells up from my soul. I halfway swallow it down.
“What’s wrong, little rabbit?”
I shake my head even as a tear drips off my lashes and clings to my chin.
“I’m fine.”
The lie slips from my lips with pathetic ease.
With a guttural sound of dismay, he pulls me against his massive, hard body and encircles me with his powerful arms.
My shaking worsens. It hurts, but I press my forehead to his chest and cling to him.
“Let it out, love. I’m here. I got you,” he vows.
My silent tears soak his shirt, but I can’t release the sobs. I’ll shake into millions of tiny, jagged pieces and no one, not even my overbearing, ruthless lover, will be able to fit me back together again.
He strokes my back and cups my head in the warmest embrace I’ve ever known. I fill my lungs with his masculine scent and bask in his strength until my emotions settle. When I lift my head, my bones ache from the force of my turmoil.
“I ruined your shirt,” I croak.
The corner of his lips curl, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes.
“This is nothing compared to what you did to my sheets last weekend,” he murmurs.
A flush works up from my toes.
I grimace and push away from him. He drops his arms.
“Take it off. I’ll wash it,” I say.
He crosses his arms over his chest and lifts a brow, demanding an explanation for my tears.
I grit my teeth and take a deep breath before stripping off my shirt and bra.
His hunger morphs to cold fury as he notices the bruising on my tender flesh. He reaches for me but drops his fists to his sides.
“What the fuck happened?” he demands.
“I had a mammogram. I get one every year,” I say.
He swallows and uncurls his fists. His eyes study my face as though to pull answers from me, but I stand frozen, too scared to move and reveal the depths of my misery.
“A mammogram is the test they do to screen for breast cancer, right?” he asks.
I nod.
“Your mom…”
His voice trails off as he connects the dots.
I nod again.
“Did you?”
A sob escapes my chest, but I nod again. Strong arms wrap around me, encasing me in comfort and safety, and I lose control.
Despite the questions wafting from him, he doesn’t push me to speak. I can’t, even if I wanted to. Horrible, gut-wrenching misery pours from me as I release the fear and pain hidden in my soul.
Matteo Ricco becomes my shield and support as I purge years of loneliness and uncertainty.
When the flood finally subsides, I find myself curled up in his lap as he cradles me to his chest on the futon.
Wrapped in my blanket with him running his fingers over my scalp, I melt as the last of my strength slips away.
“Tell me everything, Brook,” he says.
His guttural rumble reveals his worry and emotional agony. I nod, swallow, and take a deep breath.
“About two years after my mom started treatment, I found a mass in the underside of my left breast. Tests came back malignant. They removed it. I didn’t need chemo because we caught it early, but now every year…”
“You relive the horror,” he murmurs into my hair.
I nod.
His deep breath shifts me in his arms.
“I’m the first person you’ve told, aren’t I?” he asks.
I nod again. Small and pathetic, my mouth reveals more than I intended.
“My mom was too sick. Gary was too worried about my mom. I had to be the strong one.”
“Fucking goddamnit, Brook.” The fury in his tone is too much. I push against his chest, but he tightens his arms around me. “You’re too stubborn. Don’t move. I need to hold you a little longer.”
I sigh and close my eyes. The steady thumping of his heart lulls me into a doze. He wakes me with a gentle kiss to my forehead and a thumb brushing over my cheek.
“Promise me something, little rabbit,” he murmurs.
I blink crusty, swollen eyes and focus on his face.
“Take me with you next year. And the year after that. And every year after that. Forever.” The yearning in his hazel eyes as the last rays of sunlight reflect in the golden flecks steals my breath.
“No matter what happens in life or between us, let me be there for you. Let me help you carry this burden. You’ve trusted me this much. You can’t take it back now,” he says.
My raw, exposed soul quivers. I can’t deny him, but if he pulls away, I’ll suffer worse than if I had kept my secret.
I extract an arm from the blanket and cup his stubbled chin.
“You can’t either, Matteo. You’re stuck with me. Forever.”
“Thank fuck,” he growls.
He lowers his head. I lift mine and meet him halfway, eager for the joining of our lips.
Fresh tears gather on my lashes, but I pour my gratitude and relief into the kiss, relaying what I can’t say in words.
When he pulls away, I hum my dissatisfaction and chase him. He stops me with a fist in my hair.
“You have more than just a shirt to wash before I’ll let this go further,” he rumbles.
My brain refuses to decipher his words. He huffs a laugh, steals the blanket, and tosses it onto the futon before he rises and carries me into the bathroom.
I cringe in embarrassment as he lowers me to my feet in the shower. My bare bones hygiene items—a bar of soap, cheap two-in-one shampoo and conditioner, and disposable razors—can’t compare to the lavish, expensive soaps, creams, and salon-quality products in his bathroom.
After pulling off his shirt and removing his socks and shoes, he shucks off his sweatpants and repeats the process on my clothes.
Despite the protective padding, several bruises form on his thighs and arms. Pride over my pupils’ strength lifts my spirits even as illogical jealousy and anger flow through me.
He adjusts the water temperature and pushes me under the spray. Unfazed by the lackluster water pressure, he washes me from head to toe. I return the favor.
We share my only towel, him refusing to let me use it on him until after he runs the terrycloth over every inch of my skin.
He works the leave in conditioner—my one concession toward vanity—into my hair before brushing and drying it. Watching him in the rusty mirror feels surreal, especially since we both stand completely nude.
He sweeps me off my feet before I can reach for our discarded clothes.
“I need to wash your clothes and hang them to dry,” I say.
He shakes his head.
“Later. Right now you need rest, and I need to hold you in my arms,” he growls.
I stop fighting and eye the futon skeptically as he stalks toward it.
“There’s no way we’ll both fit on that,” I say.
“We will,” he answers.
When he lies me on my side facing the wall and wraps his arms around me from behind, I use his bicep as a pillow and wiggle deeper into the embrace.
“Any more of that and we won’t be resting,” he growls.
Heat curls through me as his cock hardens against my back. I huff and relax for the first time in ages.
Sleep overtakes me. The deep, restorative sleep my body craves sucks me down into darkness without warning.
I wake sweaty, thirsty, and wedged between the wall and Matteo’s firm body. Despite the lust simmering in my veins, I extract myself from his arms and scoot off the futon for a drink of water. He mumbles in his sleep and absently skims his hand over the empty space looking for me.
Wonder flows through me. Even in sleep, he’s looking out for me.
I fill a second cup of water and wander over to the window. A man stands halfway down the street with his upper half in the shadows. Even though I can’t see his face, the hairs on my nape rise, and I sense his eyes searching the darkness within my window. I stiffen and let the curtain fall closed.
Hard arms wrap around me from behind. I stifle my shriek and swat Matteo’s chest when he spins me around.
“You scared the hell out of me. There’s a man standing on the sidewalk looking at my window,” I say.
He pivots me away from the curtain and peeks out. The ferocity in his eyes sends a chill down my spine.
“Get back in bed, little rabbit. I need to make a phone call,” he says.
My legs wobble, but I make it back to the futon and place my empty cup on the floor without incident. He retrieves his phone and speaks softly for a few moments before joining me.
By the ease with which he addresses the person on the line and the terseness of the conversation, he must have called whichever bodyguard was on call tonight.
“Move in with me,” he demands.
I firm my resolve and shake my head despite the darkness.
“No, Matteo. Not yet,” I say.
He sighs and pulls me tighter against him but doesn’t argue.
Suspicion tingles over my nerves. I search his eyes in the darkness but find no answers. He drapes my leg over his hip and strokes my back.
“Is this uncomfortable?” he asks.
I shrug. My nipples harden as they brush against the muscular planes of his chest. The rush isn’t fully pleasurable but also doesn’t hurt like earlier in the day.
“It’s worth it,” I say as I trail my fingertips along his outer arm.
“Will you be too sore on Friday for the strapless dress I bought you?” he asks.
“What’s on Friday?”
“A fundraising gala for the filthy rich to feel better about themselves. Normally I wouldn’t go, but our new projects could use the publicity,” he says.
I pretend to consider it for a moment.
“Won’t Liam be upset if I steal his spotlight?”
Matteo’s growl arrows straight to my womb.
“Don’t mention another man when you’re naked in my arms, little rabbit,” he warns.
I decide to poke the bear since he seems intent to ignore his hard cock.
“Or what? Mr. Bruns—”
He plasters his mouth over mine and flattens me against the mattress with his powerful body.
Despite the jealous fury shining from his eyes, he worships me with every flick of his tongue, brush of his hand, and stroke of his fingers.
I couldn’t love Matteo Ricco more.
Which makes enacting my revenge even more urgent. Every part of me yearns to merge with him. The distance caused by my need for vengeance cannot remain.
I need Matteo Ricco in every aspect of my life. I must destroy my father so I can claim this man with every inch of my heart.
Matteo Ricco is mine.
And I’m his.
Forever.