“What?” I gasp. “No …”
“Yes,” he volleys. “He might’ve kept you away, but his associates still knew about you, and he wouldn’t risk it. All it takes is one associate becoming an enemy, and you’re at risk. Bri has Daniil, and Peyton has Denis. Even Damien has a guard who goes to school with him every day.”
“And Lorenzo did the same thing?”
“No.” Matteo’s jaw clenches. “He didn’t want to violate your trust. And I get it. Though, maybe if he had, the guard would’ve reported back about Enrique, and you wouldn’t have married that fucker.”
“I really fucked up,” I mutter.
“No.” He pulls me into his arms, so I’m forced to snuggle closer into his side on the couch. “You remind me a lot of your brother. It’s probably what drew me to you.” He chuckles. “You both love with your heart on your sleeve. You trust and give people the benefit of the doubt.”
“That’s a nice way of saying we’re gullible and naive.”
He shakes his head. “No, you just haven’t been jaded enough to be cynical. And I love that for you. And my goal as your boyfriend is to make sure you stay that way.” Matteo palms the side of my face. “I just got you, Sweetness. You want to spend your own money? Fine. But I’m not backing down on keeping you safe.”
He presses his lips to mine for a kiss that ends far too quickly. “Now, what was it you needed to show me?”
Oh yeah! The reason I ran upstairs.
But then it hits me. “Did you just call yourself my boyfriend?”
A grin spreads across my face, and Matteo rolls his eyes.
“I’m thirty-five. I guess it had to happen sometime. But don’t expect any of that shit boyfriends do.”
“Like what?” I ask, now curious.
“Flowers and date nights and shit.”
I laugh softly at his admission and lean over to give the corner of his jaw a kiss. “I don’t need flowers or date nights or shit,” I say, repeating his words back to him. “I just need you. But …” I pull back and look in his eyes. “If you ever cheat on me, you’re going to need every one of your guards to protect you from me.”
Matteo scoffs. “That would never happen,” he says, pecking my lips. “I might not be boyfriend material, and I’ll probably suck at all of this, but I willneverhurt you in any way. I watched Andrey cheat on my mom for years, and I will never be like that piece of shit.”
I nod in understanding.
“Now, before you get distracted again,” he says with a laugh, “whatcha got?”
“Oh yeah!” I grab the package. “So, I know you’ve adapted to your dyslexia, but after we spoke about it and you seemed upset that you couldn’t read well, I did some research.”
I pull the colored cards out, along with a book I got him.
“What’s this?” he asks carefully.
“I read that colored cards can help.”
“No. What’s the book?”
“Oh, it’s one of my favorite books—The Giver.”
“I remember this book, but I never read it,” he admits.
“It’s so good. It’s about a utopia, though the argument could be made that it’s really a dystopia. I think you’ll enjoy it.”
“Okay,” he says. “And the cards?”
I pull them out and open the book, placing a red one on the firstpage. “They come with a bunch of different colors because everyone’s different, and it might not work at all. But I figured it couldn’t hurt to try. Just look at the words and see if they’re clearer through the see-through card.”
He stares at the page for several seconds and then shakes his head. “No. Still jumbled.”
