8. Liliana

Chapter 8

Liliana

D ays had passed since the hallway encounter where I'd seen Matteo shoot a man dead right in front of me.

And for those several days, I'd wandered the halls, explored the property—with guards trailing closely behind—and hadn't seen Matteo at all.

Although, I knew he watched me all the time. He had security cameras set up all over the place, not to mention I knew his goons would report back any time I took a breath.

I sat in the gardens and picked at my sandwich. I was utterly alone in this place despite being surrounded by more people than I felt comfortable with.

Asking when I was leaving had fallen on deaf ears. Could I have tried sneaking off, escaping when I had the first available chance? I could have, but no matter how stubborn and strong I claimed to be, seeing a man's brains blown out in front of me told me to not be a fool.

But I knew, without a doubt, without fail, that Matteo wouldn't hurt me. I knew that with a certainty that was so cemented in fact and truth, it was enough to make me bet my life.

I picked a piece of my crust off and tossed it in front of me. A few birds flew down from the treetops, pecking at the ground, eating up the crumbs. I threw a few more pieces, feeling a smile tilt my lips before they flew off.

I watched them fly higher before landing on the treetops once more.

Of course, I thought about leaving and escaping. But the truth of the matter was, where would I go? Back to the only rundown place that never felt like a home? Who even knew if it was still vacant? A squatter had probably already claimed it as theirs.

But… that didn't even bother me.

I thought about Matteo admitting he killed my father and brother. I felt nothing. No remorse or sadness. Certainly no empathy. Shouldn't I have felt a twinge of despair over the fact my last remaining family was gone?

I closed my eyes and exhaled, trying to pull at the pieces of those emotions but coming up with a blank slate. I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing myself to remember all the times they hurt me. Not just with their words but with their hands, too.

I had been nothing but someone they could use. Nothing but someone they could squeeze the life out of because it benefited them.

So, although this was an absolutely beautiful prison, with every day that passed, I felt less like it was. I felt like I was here of my own free will.

And that terrified me more than anything else.

I felt a tingling on the back of my neck and lifted my fingers to touch my nape. I looked around, seeing various employees working on the landscaping. Someone mowed off in the distance. Two others picked weeds to my left.

I spotted two staff in the solarium speaking. The man pointed above, and whatever they saw had them both laughing.

Although no one employed by Matteo truly spoke with me, I wasn't met with hesitant glances anymore. I got slight smiles and head tilts in passing.

I rested back on the wrought-iron bench and let my shoulders sag. The sun was warm, a cool breeze from the upcoming change of season brushing over me. My mind wandered.

A tingling started between my thighs as I thought about the same dream I had been having every night for the past week. I felt myself flush, my body heating at the remembrance of something that had never happened.

I let my eyes slide shut once more and thought about that dream, about how Matteo would come into my room and stroke my cheek. He'd push the hair away from my face far more gently than I imagined he could ever be.

He would drag his fingers over my lips, down my throat, and over my collarbones. And then he would kiss me, murmuring deep words. I couldn't understand what he said, but I knew they were possessive.

They were laced with intent and desire and…promise.

And I always woke up hot, wet between my thighs and my nipples hard. There would be this heaviness settled all around me, and it took my breath away.

I continued to rub the back of my neck as the feeling of being watched intensified. I didn't have to make a show of looking around wondering who it was.

I knew. Was Matteo watching me from a window? Was he standing in front of his video monitors on the other side of the estate stalking me?

Why did that thought make me clench my thighs together?

I made a frustrated sound, tossing the remaining bread on the ground. The birds swooped down right away, and I glanced at them before I turned and made my way back into the house. I passed a few staff members carrying cleaning supplies. I glanced over my shoulder to see two guards trailing closely behind me, their stoic expressions trained on me and not deviating from their task for one moment.

"Assholes," I said under my breath and heard them laugh. It pissed me off even more.

I beelined to the kitchen, where I planned on getting a glass of water, when I slammed into one of the waitstaff. The tray she carried toppled slightly before she righted it and giggled.

"God. Sorry." I narrowed my eyes at the goons behind me. Both wore smirks. "I'm being followed by watchdogs and not paying attention."

The woman said something to the men in Italian, in which they answered in short, rapid responses. She rolled her eyes and gestured for me to come into the kitchen.

"Here," she said and handed me a small glass bowl filled with what looked like ice cream. "Lemon sorbet. I was headed outside to give some to the gardeners. Looks like you could use a sweet treat."

I took the bowl and the tiny silver spoon, staring at her then at the ice cream in confusion.

"Do I look like I need ice cream?"

She scoffed and looked offended. "Sorbet, Miss Liliana. Homemade by Chef. You won't find anything more refreshing." Someone called out in Italian, and she gave me one nod before heading out of the kitchen. The door swung open, and I saw the goons standing right outside, staring at me.

I rolled my eyes and flipped them off. Right before the door swung shut, I saw them burst out laughing.

The kitchen was blocked off to only this one entryway, so I assumed that's why they hadn't followed me inside since I had no chance of running.

Fuckers.

I sat at the little table that overlooked the gardens from the large picture window. I played with the ice cream—sorbet—for a second, watching it melt into a silky consistency before bringing a spoonful to my mouth. At that first touch of the cold, citrusy sweetness to my tongue, I held back a moan.

Good God. She wasn't lying.

I watched a few birds land on the bird feeders positioned on the other side of the window. I finished half the sorbet before I felt someone enter. I assumed it was the young woman again.

"You were right. This is the best thing I've ever tasted."

"You haven't had my cock in your mouth yet."

My eyes widened. I spun around in the chair to see Matteo standing inside the entryway. "The hell?" I choked out those two words. He was in front of me before I could even blink, reached out and took the spoon, and scooped a dollop of sorbet out of the bowl.

While holding my gaze with his, he brought the spoon to his mouth and licked it clean. "Mmm. It's good. Sweet." He took another spoonful before setting the utensil down on the table with a resounding clank . "Bet your pussy is sweeter, though."

I choked on my saliva and was about to curse him out, maybe push him away, but none of that happened. I sat there and stared into his eyes wondering what the fuck was going on.

"I'm not staying here." That's what I said. After hearing Matteo talk about eating me out, of course, my brain spewed forth those four words like they made any sense in this situation.

"You'll have dinner with me, and we'll decide what's going to happen next."

And just like that, the spell and haze broke.

I knew he wasn't expecting me to answer. I didn't know what to say anyway. So, I stayed silent, held his gaze, and refused to break the stare down, and finally, he turned and left.

I sat there scared as hell, wondering what he meant by those words.