“I’m sorry,” I choke out. “I just… I didn’t know who else to call.”
“You did the right thing.”
He hangs up before I can fall apart any further.
I sit there on the floor, alone in a restaurant bathroom, clutching my phone to my chest like it’s the only thing keeping me afloat.
I don’t know how long I sit there, clinging to my phone like a lifeline. But somewhere out there, footsteps are moving fast. A storm is coming, and his name is Matteo.
13
MATTEO
She’s silent the whole ride back. My knuckles turn white as I grip the steering wheel. All I can think about right now is murder.
I want his blood. And if it weren’t for the fact that she’s sitting in my car, I would be hunting that dog down.
I see her shiver in my peripheral, so I turn up the heat a little more. She curls into herself, trying to calm her body, but the shaking never stops.
“I’m not cold,” she mutters under her breath. “You don’t need to turn up the heat.”
“I know,” I say, keeping my eyes on the road.
Her fingers are curled into the hem of her coat. Her eyes are red and raw from all the tears that spilled from them.
The bruise on her cheek is a dark whisper I can’t unsee. It drags something vicious out of me—something I swore she’d never witness.
Giacomo will have his day.
This isa promise I make to myself.
Breaking his nose. Breaking his jaw. Breaking his fucking neck for laying hands on her.
I’ll give him ten times what he did to her—and more—since I’m such a generous man.
But first, her.
I have to take care ofher.
We pull into the garage, and I park the car. I’m out in a second, circling to her side—but she doesn’t reach for the handle. She just sits there, tears slipping down her cheeks in a silence that feels heavier than anything she could say.
It tugs at the last of my restraint.
“Bella,” I say quietly. She doesn’t answer, staring ahead with a look that’s more fury than fear now.
“Beatrice. We’re here.”
She blinks hard, tears slipping out before she can stop them. She wipes them away fast, almost irritated, like the emotions themselves offend her.
“Sorry,” she mutters, jaw tight. “I—I just…”
“Don’t.”
I take her hands and cup them in mine. I bring them to my chest and kiss her cold fingers.
The action is instinctive.
We stare at each other. The heat moves from her hands into my own, warming something deep inside my body. Her eyes glisten with more unshed tears, and it awakens parts of my chest I thought long dead.
