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"She left you?" I whispered.
"We were never close, and she felt trapped in her marriage with my father. So once she was free, there was nothing keeping her here."
"Except for her son," I hissed as I finished my last bite of risotto.
"Not all women are meant to be mothers, my Angel. Neither of my parents were suited to the role. Thankfully, their hatred of one another kept them from repeating the mistake. Would you like dessert?"
I forced a smile for his sake, trying to rein in my hatred for him in the wake of his confessions. No wonder love was so foreign to Matteo. He'd never been loved in his life, never even seen it. I felt sorry for him, because I knew that no matter how much it had hurt, the love I'd experienced had been a bright light in my life. "No. As much as it pains me to admit, I couldn't eat another bite."
He laughed, requesting the check from the waiter and turning the conversation to inquiries about Sadie and Duke even though I knew he didn't care what they were up to. He'd hardly tolerated either of them in high school when they were a necessary evil to being with me. Sadie was too nosy, too in my face and bubbly and demanding for Matteo's tastes, and Duke was a man. Even then, Matteo had always been possessive to the point of excess.
While we waited for the check, the stares he gave me were disquieting in intensity, as if something was coming and he was trying to get a read on my reaction.
I just hoped the thing that was coming was him dropping me off at home and never looking back.
It didn't seem likely.
???
We'd ridden back to my house in silence. Matteo's body vibrated with tension, whatever affected him so much at the end of our dinner still visibly pulsing through him. He didn’t try to hold my hand in the car, but that could have also been because I sat on it. When he pulled into the driveway, I held out a hand for my keys. "Thank you for dinner," I said politely. "It was nice to catch up."
It was as clear a dismissal as I could manage without being outright suicidal with the man who looked ready to snap at any moment. He glanced at my hand with disgust in his eyes, shoving his car door open and stepping out.
As soon as he slammed it shut, I winced.
"Poop," I whispered to myself, watching as he prowled around the car. I hadn't paid enough attention to realize he'd shut the ignition off, but I figured that probably didn't bode well for me. Likely meant he didn't mean to just see me to my door. "Double poop scoops."
My door opened quickly, and I unbuckled myself and let him guide me out like the gentleman he liked to pretend to be. His hand took up residence at my back, guiding me up the steps to my house as the car door closed with a thud behind me.
My breathing was erratic, and I fought to control the rising panic.
He couldn't seriously think I would sleep with him.
Could he?
He dug my keys out of his pocket, and I let out a sigh of relief when his eyes met mine. They were more relaxed than I'd seen him all night, more at ease with whatever was going on in his head. I reached out to take them from him with a smile, my breath freezing in my lungs when he turned away and used them to unlock my door himself. When he pushed the door open lightly, he gestured me inside. Pausing in the threshold, I turned to say goodnight in one last bid to keep him outside my house. Outside my sanctuary where he didn't belong.
His eyes were soft when my gaze met his, soft and dark and full of the promise of all the things I believed the last time I'd let him have all of me. "Goodnight, Matteo," I whispered, putting a hand on the door and standing my ground.
"Aren't you going to let me in, Cara mia?" he asked, and his voice vibrated with something dark. Something dangerous. Something I didn't understand in the slightest but knew well enough to fear.
"No," I whispered, stepping back and slamming the door in his face. I gasped when his foot blocked it from closing and backed up as he prowled inside. He didn't turn to face it as he closed it gently behind him, stepping closer to me slowly. "Don't you dare touch me," I hissed, taking another step back. That fucking console table jabbed into my ass, and I stumbled, glancing to the side and looking for a different escape route.
"Are you afraid of me, my Angel?" he asked as his body pressed tightly into mine. I whimpered, even through his suit I could feel every ridge of muscle packed onto his frame. He was a stranger to me; his body was nothing like the one I'd known once upon a time. "Because you should be."
"What do you want?" I whispered, hating how weak my voice sounded as I spoke.
"I'll never hurt you. Surely you know that." His voice cracked and his hand slid underneath the curtain of my hair to cup my face in his hand as he ran his thumb over my cheekbone. It was the same one Adrian had stroked, and I could practically feel him erasing the other man's touch with his own as possession glittered in his eyes. "I should walk away. Leave you to your life."
I swallowed, not having the guts to agree with him. As prepared for it as I was, as much as I knew it was the smartest outcome for me, the thought of watching him walk away from me like I didn't matter for a second time was devastating. His forehead hit mine, blue eyes staring into my soul from so close that I felt like he saw every crack—every hole I'd worked so hard to cover up over the years. No matter what a train wreck I knew whatever this thing with Matteo would be, I still couldn't look away. "I won't. This time around, I can keep you safe. I have to believe that," he whispered, but I got the distinct impression he was trying to convince himself of it more than me. "I'm not letting you go, Ivory. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
"No," I whispered honestly. Because I had a feeling that I really, truly, had absolutely no concept of whatever was happening. No control over it, not an ounce of real understanding.
"You will soon enough," he murmured, tilting his face until his lips pressed against mine softly and silenced my protest. Nothing but a light, teasing touch of his lips to mine, his gaze captivated mine even as heat flared through me from the smallest touch. He pulled away with a groan, his eyes closing and disconnecting me from that blue-eyed stare that threatened to steal away my sanity. His other hand came up to bury in my hair, tilting my face the way he wanted me. When I gasped, the pressure of his hand at my scalp and the sensation of him controlling me so thoroughly too much for me to handle, his lips crashed against mine.
There was no gentleness in that kiss, no trace of the man who'd softly memorized the feel of my lips on his from a moment ago.
All that remained was a dominating force. His hand where he cupped my cheek forced my mouth to open for him, and his tongue darted inside to tease mine. I whimpered, hoping the sound would alert him to the fact that he was taking too much, pushing too hard too soon.
