Page 153 of Vicious Intentions
Like a cruel joke, memories surge forward, hard and fast, uncovering the truth of Matteo’s words. His deep, raspy voice. The bulging veins in his hands and arms. The tender smiles. The soft words. The loving glint in his dark eyes. The reason my body reacted so viscerally to him, even when my mind told it to stop.
“It was you,” I breathe, shaking. “It was you all this time.”
“Anna—”
“Stop.” I throw out my hand, and thankfully, he halts in his tracks. “You… you catfished me?” My chest heaves. “How long?” He says nothing. My eyes squeeze shut, fury and humiliation crashing over me. “How long were you pretending to be your brother?” Still nothing. I hurl both phones at him. “How long?!”
Matteo’s voice is quiet when he replies, “You know how long,vita mia. You always have.”
My knees nearly give out. Hot tears blur my vision as the truth settles in. Every message, every confession, every moment I thought I was falling for Rafe, was Matteo all along. The man I trusted. The man I fell in love with is the very villain standing in front of me—my husband.
Unwilling to stay in the same room as him for a second longer, I run to the bathroom and lock myself inside before he’sable to follow me in. My hands grip the sink as painful sobs tear through me, my reflection blurring in the mirror.
“Anna, open the door. We need to talk this out.”
“I’m done talking!” I cry out.
“Please, sweetheart.”
A pang hits my chest as he repeats the endearment. How I used to love hearing him call me that, along with so many other beautiful words. Why does this betrayal hit harder than when I thought it had been Raffaele?
You know how long, vita mia. You always have.
Matteo’s right. Somehow, deep in my subconscious, I must have known that the man I had given my heart to wasn’t the same one I had befriended as a child. Still, never in my wildest suspicions did I ever think it would be Matteo.
Everything in my life feels so out of control, as if everyone else has the power to dictate how it should go instead of me. Almost as if I’m a side character in my own life.
I need to get my power back. I need to take back control. The Donatos have made a fool of me too many times to count. And I’ve had enough. I’ve had enough of all of it.
“Please… just let me explain,” he says.
There is a little thump on the door, telling me he’s leaning against it. But I’m tired of words. They’re hollow and painful. I need actions. Actions that I alone make.
The idea barely takes form, and I’m already moving, yanking open drawers, one after another.
“Anna,” Matteo calls out, sounding nervous all of a sudden.
I smile when I find a pair of scissors.
“Open the door, Anna,” Matteo demands, his voice more authoritarian now.
The first cut of my hair is jagged, but I feel lighter instantly. As if I’m carving away every mistake that led me to fall in love with a monster, one strand at a time. I grab another batch of hairand keep cutting. Long blonde strands fall on the floor as my manic smile stretches wider on my face. On the other side of the door, Matteo’s voice sharpens, panic seeping through it.
“Anna, open the door!” He knocks repeatedly, but I don’t respond.
I just keep cutting and cutting until I’m standing over a pool of golden locks.
“Anna, step away from the door!” he shouts, mere seconds before it bursts open.
Matteo freezes in the doorway, his breathing erratic. I stand still, chest heaving, my hair shorn unevenly around my face. For a second, I feel a twisted sense of satisfaction. However, Matteo isn’t looking at my hair. He’s not even looking at my face. His eyes are locked on the scissors still clutched in my hand.
“Anna… sweetheart…put the scissors down.”
A bitter laugh escapes me. “What? Do you think I’m going to use them on you?”
Matteo shakes his head, his hands balling into fists, and that’s when I see it—the fear. Not for himself, but for me. The realization hits like a blow.
He thinks I’m going to hurt myself. That I’m going to use these scissors to…
