Page 189 of Vicious Intentions
I pull back from our embrace and freeze. He’s covered in blood from head to toe.
“It’s not mine,” he says, reading the question in my eyes.
“Is it…?” My voice trembles.
“No. Your brothers and sister are alive and well.” He exhales heavily. “Cavaliere… not so much.”
Matteo shrugs off his jacket, then his shoes, as if the weight of the night were too much for him to carry any longer.
“Who?” I ask quietly.
“Cavaliere,” he repeats. “The Don of Long Island. I watched your brother Jude put two bullets in his skull tonight.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, sitting on the edge of the bed, my head hung low, knowing that another person lost their life because of me.
Matteo steps closer, lifting my chin gently. “Don’t be sorry,vita mia,” he murmurs. “Cavaliere knew what he signed up for. He was more than happy to die for the cause.” He smiles at me, but it never reaches his eyes. “I will say this,” he adds, voice low with exhaustion, “your family is one hell of a force to be reckoned with. I thought for sure Rocco was a goner when yoursister hurled a blade at his eye. He only survived because Nico shoved him out of harm’s way at the last second. Never seen someone handle a blade like that. She should’ve gone to the Olympics.”
“You sound impressed.”
“I sound tired, sweetheart.” He presses a soft kiss on my forehead. “Let me get out of these clothes and grab a shower. I’ve never liked having a dead man’s blood on my skin for too long.”
I nod, watching him empty his pockets, setting his loose change, keys, wallet, and phone aside before disappearing into the ensuite bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him. Silence fills the room immediately now that he’s no longer in it, my gaze drifting to the phone he left on the dresser. Before I can second-guess myself, I grab it and begin to scroll through his contacts until I find my father’s name. My heart pounds with every ring.
“You have a lot of nerve—” my father growls.
“Papà?” There’s a sharp intake of breath.
“Anna? Anna! Is that you,angelo mio.?”
“Yes,Papà,” I choke out, emotion clogging my windpipes.
“Madonna santa, angelo mio!” he shouts. “We’ve been beside ourselves with worry.Ti voglio tanto bene, Anna. Tanto.”His voice sounds older, worn down, and pained.
“I love you, too,Papà. But you don’t have to worry. I’m fine,Papà. Truly,” I say, wiping the tears from my eyes.
“Where are you? Tell me, and I’ll send your brothers and sister to get you,” he rushes to say.
I shake my head, even though he can’t see me.
“That’s not why I’m calling.” I take a fortifying breath. “I need you to end this,Papà. End the war. Please… before more people die.”
“The war ends when you come home,” he pleads. “Just tell me where you are, and we’ll come find you. We’ll bring you home.”
“But I am home,” I say softly. “This is my home now. Matteo is my home.”
The line goes so quiet that I can actually hear my heart thumping in my chest.
“Is he there? Is he forcing you to say this?” my father says coldly. “I’ll kill him—”
“Papà, stop! Matteo isn’t even here. He’s in the shower.” Another bout of silence ensues, heavier this time.
“Did he… did he force himself on you?”
“What? No,Papà. Of course not. You’re not listening.” My voice cracks. “Matteo is my husband now and—.”
“That is not a marriage. He forced you into it, I know he did. That, sweet girl, is coercion. I’ll have that certificate burned and annulled before you even finish unpacking. Just tell me where you are. I’ll deal with Matteo later.”
It’s no use. He’s not hearing me. Or he’s being too stubborn to.
