“How?” Matilde turns to me, her brows furrowed in pain. “How do I tell her that our father was a thief? All these years, I thought my father was better than Giovanni.”
I reach for her hand and squeeze it. "He was. Your father would have never tried to keep his niece’s inheritance from them.”
“You’re probably right,” she whispers, turning to stare out the window. I vow to find all the ways to distract her when we get to her place. I’ll make her forget all about it all the second we step in until mine is the only name on her lips and in her mind.
However, I don’t get to live out that fantasy.
Whatever sadness and anxiety plaguing Matilde increases tenfold when we find her bakery broken into and ransacked. I quickly take her upstairs and check her apartment, but that part of the building is untouched. I get her to lock herself inside before making my way back to the bakery. My gun sits firmly in my hand as I search the place, and it’s only when I’m certain it’s empty that I call Lorenzo.
“The security system didn't alert me to anything,” he says when I explain the situation. “I’m looking at the feed, and the cameras caught a man dressed in black approaching the security console and…fuck.”
“What?” I ask, tempted to end the call and check the feed my damn self. “Lorenzo!”
“He enters the code to the fucking security console to turn it off. How the fuck does he know the code?” He’s angry. I can hear it in his voice before the clicking sound of his fingers flying over the keyboard comes over the line. “Goddamnit. He used the employee’s security code to get in. The cameras inside catch him ransacking the bakery. He’s not looking for anything, son of a bitch. He’s just destroying the place. Who the fuck is this guy?”
“Does it show his face?”
“No, because the fucker knows just where all the cameras are and he’s avoiding them.”
My fingers clench on the gun as I rack my brain for people who could have accessed the security codes. "There's Sally and Mr. Davis, her contractor, and…fuck. There’s also this real estate agent that has been pressuring Matilde and Arianna to sell the building.”
“What’s the name?”
“Will…fuck, Winston Hill,” Matilde mentioned him a few times over dinner, complaining about his persistence. “Yeah, that’s the name. I was waiting for him to show up again so I could deal with the fucker, but he hasn’t.”
“Okay, I’ll look into him,” Lorenzo says, hanging up. I shoot a text to Santino to check on Sally and find out how the fucking intruder got the security code.
Chapter Seven
Matilde
My eyes flutter open when the bed dips next to me. “Hey, go back to sleep,” a deep raspy voice whispers and I find myself pulled into a large warm body. “I’m sorry I woke you, baby. Just go back to sleep.”
“How come you’re getting back so late?” I mumble sleepily, glancing at the bedside clock.
“I was out working,” he rasps into my neck. “Something that needed my personal attention. I’m sorry I left you alone in bed, but I had to be there.”
It’s already three in the morning and normally, I would be up and prepping for the day. Mixing and baking—but not today. It hasn’t been that way for a couple of days now. Ever since someone broke into my bakery and destroyed my things.
I haven’t been getting much sleep either. At first, when the damage on the third floor was found, I was scared. Someone had made their way into my building while I slept below, and he could have hurt me like that intruder did to our parents. With the bakery, it was different.
No, I’m not scared. I’m just furious.
It’s been two days, and the damage hasn’t all been fixed yet. I’ve spent days baking myself to madness, gifting some of it to my cousins and donating most of it to the homeless shelters. Luca has done his best to taste a bit of everything I make, if only to help with my mood, but there is only so much even he can do.
If this break-in has taught me anything, it's that violence will find me no matter what I do or who I am with. But with Luca, at least I can feel safe when it happens. With him, I don’t have to hide alone in some closet, tears streaming down my cheeks and scared for my life. He's always standing by my side with a gun tucked in his jeans. I don't have to hide. Not with him around. But it’s not just him who’s been keeping me away from that dark and scary closet. Silvia has stopped by at least once a day under the guise of helping me bake, and all those walks to the food banks and homeless shelters have worked to help us bond.
Turns out I wasn’t the only one insulted by the intruder. Luca was livid and became extremely protective. While some might find it overbearing and suffocating… I find it reassuring.
Still, there is a sense of restlessness.
Questions that have plagued me. Now, more than ever, I am certain that the man who killed my parents will come back for my sister and me if he’s not caught.
Going back to sleep is no longer an option, so I figure I might as well get up and do something. “You should get some sleep,” I say, trying to climb out of bed, but an arm bands around me and pulls me back down. I gasp when I feel the hard press of his erection against my butt. “Luca. You need the rest. Sleep, and I'll just go bake something.”
“Don’t go,” he says hoarsely, dipping his face into my nape and kissing the spot under my ear. “If you're so eager to get up,I can show you something else you can bake in your tight little oven.”
“Luca!” I laugh at his words but the warm caress of his breath works to send wet heat flooding my core. “You’re tired.”
