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A sudden swamp of sadness washed over me, yesterday’s events rushing back into my mind. A vivid image playing without fault or flaw before my eyes. It broke me more than it should seeing Matt with someone else. More than I cared to admit to myself.
I couldn’t stop replaying the conversation I had with Liam. Was it possible that Matt had been drugged? How could I be sure that was the truth?
Matt seemed so honest when he told me he would never do something like that. It was so easy to trust him despite my past. But then again, everything in a mafioso is made to deceive. That was his fucking trade, and to become a Don, of course he had to be good at it.
I was so eager, so willing to believe him.
But I had been with Eric, too. Look where that got me. Hurt and broken, a fragment of my usual self. I couldn’t afford to be made into her again. I wouldn’t climb out of that hole. Not with Matt, anyway.
In only two weeks, I already felt too much.
And that was my damn mistake.
Matt
Two fucking days had passed, and Francesca was still MIA.
The first thing that would normally come to mind was that she was in danger, that something had happened to her. But given the latest events, I’m sure she’s just trying to establish that she’s her own boss and that she does whatever the fuck she wants.
Everything inside me was screaming to put a fucking end to it, but that fire was one of the things I admired about her. Clipping those wings would cost me the woman who had struck a chord inside me unlike any other before. But as hours went by, I was starting to get restless, to say the least.
After she didn’t come back that night, we found the tracking device in the middle of nowhere. Again, I couldn’t help but smile. It was more than clear that she didn’t want me to find her. Could I even blame her?
It took a thorough explanation from Liam and Max for me to understand why. Francesca thought she saw me being sucked off by some blonde.
I knew myself well enough to know that whatever the situation, I’d never do that. I’d never promise fidelity and do the opposite. But Francesca didn’t know that. After all, her eyes didn’t lie, and I had no proof to counter what she had seen.
Her phone was off again. I had tried calling every hour since she was gone.
I shouldn’t have let her leave.
I fought against the urge to go through her stuff, but as the second full day of her being gone passed, I started thinking that privacy was a privilege she couldn’t afford.
The spare room where she had slept was still almost empty of her belongings. Everything was packed and piled up by the entrance to our apartment.
This afternoon, I got fed up looking at those reminders of her wish to leave. Of her distrust. I had one of the maids pack all her stuff neatly in the closet inside our room.
I was sure she’d be pissed, but that’s where I wanted her. I missed having her under my blanket. I missed claiming those little moans she tried to muffle. I missed reaching out to her and having my way with her in the middle of the night.
Fuck, it was hard to admit, but I had never felt this way in my whole life.
My lungs had been out of oxygen since she’d been gone. The prospect of losing her was like a damn poison that slowly spread through me.
Before I knew it, those thoughts had led me straight into that room, going through the nightstand for fuck knows what.
I found myself sitting on the bed, holding a small white envelope between my fingers. The only thing in the drawers in an otherwise barren room.
I twisted and turned the damn thing, debating whether I should open it or not. It was wrong, but then again, she’s my wife, and we shouldn’t keep secrets from each other.
Bad fucking excuse, but I’m sticking with it.
I opened the envelope and read the handwritten note out loud.
“I’m coming for you, my baby. What the fuck?”
I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck immediately rising while my whole body tensed up at the thought that Francesca could be in danger after all.
And what had I done about it?
