He sighed, and it was the heaviest sound I’d ever heard come from his chest. He rested his chin on my head, pressing it against his heart. “I can’t do this for you, baby,” he whispered. “I would in a fucking heartbeat, but I can’t.” His voice sounded as torn up as my insides.
I knew that, and I wasn’t even sure why I’d said it, but it didn’t matter. I was just glad I wasn’t talking nonsense or screaming and crying.
“What if I can’t say it?” I whispered.
“I’ll know.”
That was all I needed to know.
After the men swept the house and Armando gave the all-clear, Matteo picked me up and carried me to the bathroom. He ran a hot bath, undressed me, and slowly set me in it. I sighed as I eased into the water, and I sighed even harder when he eased in behind me.
He just held me, and I fell asleep in his arms, barely stirring when he lifted me out, then dried and dressed me. I twisted and turned in his arms all night long, and when I started to whimper in my sleep, he held me close, whispering soft words in my ear,giving me kisses that were even softer. His arms felt like they were keeping me together and protecting me from more harm. Like iron bars that kept me in and the world out.
The next morning, we woke up to the smell of coffee and baked goods. Placido made them all for us. Matteo didn’t trust anyone from the outside world to handle our drinks or food. I drank a few sips of coffee and picked at mycornetto, not really having an appetite. I could tell it bothered Matteo that I refused to drink or eat. But, maybe because of how controlling Régine had been with my food, he let it go.
Right then.
I could tell by the stern set of his face that, if my appetite refused to make a comeback by a certain amount of time, he was going to get creative with me. This made me smile a little, and he caught it and gave me a grin back.
I yawned, not able to help it. It felt like I hadn’t slept in ages, like my soul weighed too much for my body to carry, so I decided to slip back in bed. We were having dinner with the man Noemi called Damon Carter, but it wasn’t until later that evening. I had plenty of time.
Matteo leaned against the doorframe, watching me. “I refuse to let you dim,la mia stella.”
“I know,” I whispered. “That’s why I can sleep. I know you have this.”
He did have this.
He woke me up for lunch, fed it to me, and then let me go back to sleep until it was time to get up and get ready. We showered together, and he washed me like he was cleaning the most delicate piece of treasure in history. When it came to my makeup, though, I told him I had it. I just wasn’t sure what to wear.
“Anything,” he said. “You’re fucking gorgeous in anything.”
I looked down at the makeup spread on the vanity and whispered, “Thank you.”
“It wasn’t me who designed you, but fuck if you weren’t designed for me.” He kissed my shoulder and then left me, going into the closet.
When he came back out, he was holding a shimmering gold dress, and I knew it would make a statement. I curled my hair, which had grown much longer, the color still just like my mom’s—a reddish blonde that seemed to pick up on the gold in the dress. My skin had been touched by the sun, and even if I could never be as dark as Matteo, it made me glow. I still had the freckles dotting my nose, but my eyes were the color of a storm.
Maybe reflecting what was going on inside of me.
Right as I spritzed some perfume on, Matteo walked out of the closet, fixing his suit jacket. He was dressed in all black, and he was making a fucking statement too.
Even if I had no name, I was still born to rule this bitch.
His good shirt wasn’t buttoned all the way up, and from the side, I could see the star tattoo. My name inked on his body. The Fausti insignia tattoo moved when his hand went to fix his tie. He wore a signet ring, just like the one he’d slipped in the pocket of his coat for me that night in the underground club. I stood, smoothing down my dress, and stopped him.
“My job.” I grinned, then looked up into his eyes. “You’re gorgeous, Matteo. And not only on the outside. I know why I chose you. Because of…the entirety of you.”
He pulled me into him so hard, I gasped. I loved when he did that. It sent blood rushing through my heart and made butterflies flitter around in my stomach like mad.
“You break my heart with your words,la mia stella.” He set my hand over his heart, like I was the disease and the cure.
He kept my hand in his while we navigated through all the thick traffic of southern California, and he seemed to hold it eventighter when we entered the lobby of the fancy Hollywood hotel. There was a man at the door waiting, and when he spotted us, he rushed over and escorted us to the dining area. We had a private table in the back.
It didn’t matter that the place was dark, and Matteo was a part of the darkness—every eye seemed to land on him at some point. Most of the men with women were sizing him up. The women, single or not, were blatantly staring.
Rosaria coming onto him.
The Russian woman with the cutting eyes.
