Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 118245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 591(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 591(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
Seeing the genuine concern in his eyes, I had to swallow the bile that rose in the back of my throat.
I was a horrible person. I didn’t deserve his concern. “Matteo, I need to tell you—”
He looked up as he ran his hand over my legs. “Yes?”
Tell him.
Tell him!
Tell him everything.
Then Fino’s final threat came back to mind.
I licked my lips. “I—I’m sorry I caused a scene at dinner.”
His strong arms reached around me to unzip my dress. “You should be more sorry for running off into the darkness like that. You could have been seriously hurt.”
I lowered my gaze. “I know. I’m sorry.”
He pulled the dress off my shoulders. As I slipped my arms through the sleeves, he ran his calloused hands over my skin, still searching for injuries. “I’m fine. Really. I was just jarred from the fall, that’s all. I’m more embarrassed than anything else.”
He stood, towering over me as he lifted my chin with his right hand. “You probably got dizzy from not eating enough at dinner, like before at your father’s. I’ve warned you to knock that shit off.”
I blinked at his stern expression. “I know. I’m sorry. Old habits die hard.”
He stroked my hair and sighed. “Stop saying you’re sorry,” he said gruffly.
“Sorry. I mean, okay, I’ll stop.”
The corner of his mouth lifted in that slightly crooked smile I had already come to love. “It’s hard to stay angry at you when you look like a little dove who fell out of her nest.”
He pulled the dress off my hips.
I crossed my arms over my breasts.
After going into the ensuite bathroom, he returned with a heavy black robe. “Take off your bra and panties.”
I reached for the garment. “I can just put the robe on over them.”
He held it out of my reach. “Do as you're told. I’m in no mood right now, Ella.”
When my arms reached behind me to unclasp the bra, I winced.
He cursed low under his breath before brushing my hands away and unhooking it himself. “Are you sure you didn’t fall on something and crack a rib?”
Did getting kicked count?
“Yes, I’m sure.”
The robe was soft and warm, and he gingerly placed it over my shoulders and then gently picked up my wrists to thread my arms through the sleeves. Before allowing me to close it, his firm hands wrapped around my ribcage, just below my breasts.
I sucked in a breath and held it, not expecting the spark of awareness between my legs at his intimate touch.
His dark gaze clashed with mine. Then his fingertips reached out to touch my throat. “Christ, are these bruises from me? From earlier? Fuck, babygirl. I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll be more gentle next time.”
My hand flew to my neck. Only a monster would let a man who was being so kind think he had caused the bruises Fino gave to me. “It’s fine. They don’t hurt.”
It was official. My sister had turned me into a monster.
With all of my lies and manipulations and bullshit, I was now no better than her.
The tense silence stretched between us.
Finally, he pulled back as he cleared his throat. “Stay here. I’m going to get the first aid kit for your knees.”
“They’re fine. I just need to wipe off the dirt.”
“Ella. Stay.”
“Yes, sir.”
The moment he left, I buried my face in my hands. I should have told him. I would tell him. As soon as I talked to Antonia and warned her. Then I would tell him everything.
I lifted my head and looked around the room. I couldn’t help but smile when I noticed my borrowed clothes, suitcase, purse, and cello neatly stacked in the corner.
Matteo returned carrying a tray with two silver cloches, a small bowl of water, and a first aid kit. Resting the tray on the bed near me, he wet a washcloth and cleaned my knees before carefully rubbing a salve on the slight scrapes. When I hissed from the sting, he pursed his lips and blew cool air on the wounds.
The spark in my belly ignited, as if he had been blowing on an ember to get it to flame.
After changing out of his clothes into just a pair of gray sweatpants, his naked chest showing off his unique tattoo, he leaned against the headboard and pulled me onto his lap.
For once, I didn’t object and simply buried my head against his shoulder.
I needed this.
I needed the comforting strength of his arms.
I needed the reassuring beat of his heart.
At least for a moment, it made me think everything was going to be all right.
He leaned forward and pulled the tray closer before lifting the two cloches. Under one were two bright orange persimmons cut into quarters and drizzled with what smelled like a traditional vanilla and rum sauce. Under the other was a bowl of zabaione.