14. Tasha

14

Matteo lets go of my hand as soon as I'm standing but moves his hand to the small of my back. With a nudge he guides me to the stairs.

The silence is too eerie and unbearable in the maelstrom of questions in my mind. There's only one thing I really want to know right now, and I gather my courage. "If you don't mind me asking," I start as we scale the stairs, not wanting to rock the boat more than I already have, "what happened to Tatiana? Where is she now?" Matteo listed her assault injuries in bullet points, and they made me want to cry. Just one of those is horrible, but that combination? She must have been in the hospital for weeks.

"Why do you ask?"

"I… I want to somehow justify the punishment you handed out earlier." Which he did without a flinch.

Matteo stops at his bedroom door, which is on the opposite end of the corridor from the one I got to shower in earlier. "Wondering how I sleep at night, hmm?"

I shrug, but hold his gaze as he studies me, because yes, handing out that level of brutality would give me nightmares. Not that Matteo got his hands dirty and shooting a gun doesn't count. No, he was the puppet master.

"I sleep just fine, kitten."

He opens his bedroom door and ushers me in. Frustration bubbles up in me. He hasn't answered my freaking question. "Tell me, please."

"Natasha—"

I shudder. It's the first time he's said my name and I can't. "Just Tasha, please. Everybody calls me that because the way people say my name always reminds me of the nanny Dad got me when Mom died and he couldn't cope. She drove me to school and back always asking How was your day, Natasha? All fake sympathy and total disinterest. My Mom and brother just died, how do you think it was? Those were the days before I got a bodyguard."

At this he blinks. "You talk too much. Should have fucking gagged you and kept you locked up."

"I talk because I'm freaked out and nervous and kidnapped. I just witnessed a brutal murder, you jerk. Then I had to clean it up! And I want to know what happened to Tatiana because no woman deserves that." And to be honest my pulse is all over the place with shock and with fear and with him.

Matteo grunts a sigh. "Fuck me. At least we agree on one thing." He takes me by the arm and marches me into his bathroom, which is overly masculine in black marble. My eyes are drawn to the beautiful black bath that stands center stage. There's space for two in that one. "Now strip and get in the shower."

"No!" I jerk away and he's forced to let go of my arm. I'm not sure what is going on in my head or why I'm defying him. It's as if I have a death wish or something and want to get it over and done with. But I know that deep down I want to push him to see how far he'll go with me. I've done everything he wanted me to do, but this is where I draw the line.

"What did you say?"

"I said no."

"Do you want me to help you?" His tone tells me it won't end well for me.

"No, I want you to leave so I can shower in private."

At this he drops his head back and laughs. It transforms his face. Laughter lines cup his mouth, and I can't help but stare at his perfect teeth. His dark eyes spark as he folds his arms over the wide expanse of his chest and leans back against the double vanity and just stares at me. "You, kitten, are playing with fucking fire," he says as the laughter dies from his eyes, his mouth still pulled into a cynical smirk.

"I figure I'm dead if I do, and I'm dead if I don't."

Matteo doesn't move from where he's settled against the vanity, arms crossed, in a perfectly cut dark wool suit and black shirt that doesn't show blood at first glance. I'm standing in front of him, chest heaving, freckled with all kinds of gunk, at an impasse. And he says nothing.

Oh God. I'm so dead.

I watch as the shadows on his face somehow darken and when he leans into me, his eyes burning into mine, I have the urge to run and hide. My question took him to a place I don't want to go.

"Understand this, kitten." A chill shoots down my back at the tone of his voice. "We work on a need-to-know basis at Il Consiglio. You don't need to know that Tatiana wasn't that guy's first, or his last. You don't need to know that the doctors did what they could for her, but that she has permanent damage that makes it hard for her to walk. You don't need to know that she's addicted to painkillers and meth and will most likely overdose at some point." Matteo uncrosses his arms and reaches for a strand of my hair. "What you do need to know is that he didn't only break her body, he broke her spirit too. And for that, he got fucked up the ass. If he didn't die today, we would have gone at him again tomorrow until he did."

I nod, sensing the residue of his anger at Tatiana's fate vibrating in his touch. I don't want to show any weakness in front of this man, but the day has been too much. I want to weep for Tatiana but force down my frayed emotions. Still, tears which have been sitting shallow for hours push up and I blink. I'm overly conscious of his fingertips playing with my hair, the gentleness of his touch, always incongruous with everything he says and does. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah. Me too." He gathers my hair away from my neck and his gaze drops to where he left a hickey earlier. He brushes his thumb over my cheek, catching a stray tear, and runs it down to the bruise on my neck. "Now be a good girl and strip so you can shower. It's late."

I bite my lip to compose myself, his incessant request jerking me back to the present. "I won't. I'm naked underneath."

"You are?" Clearly this is news to him. "What happened to your bikini?"

"Burley confiscated it earlier. It has too many strings, apparently."

Matteo nods. "Yup. He's a pro." He pushes off the vanity. "Don't be shy. Most college girls nowadays have an OnlyFans going on the side to pay for tuition."

"I'm not most college girls."

"True. Living the high life with Daddy owing Il Consiglio two million dollars, if you wondered how you got here."

That same rage that swept up from out of nowhere when I tossed his phone across the living room hits me. "I have no life at all," I hiss, my voice strained. "And now I'm as good as dead, thanks to you."

"Well," he says, unfazed, "let's do something about that." He reaches for the hem of my shirt, but I fight his hands off, grossed out by the texture and smell of dried vomit and the blood caking the soft fabric that grates my inner arms. I reek.

"Don't. Please."

"You've got nothing I haven't seen before, kitten," he says, hands on his hips, feigning patience.

He's toying with me.

I drop my gaze, too embarrassed with no clue where to look. Earlier all five brothers were there and stared at me when I crawled out of that safe room in my bikini, but somehow it was different. I was in fight-or-flight mode and couldn't think beyond the next second's survival. Somehow I'm still alive and this is much more intimate, one on one, just us.

"I've never been naked in front of… of anybody before." Never mind a man. A man like him. Who looks like he eats pussy for breakfast. And right now there's a glistening of moisture between my legs that will give away way too much.

"Fuck me. I think I just lost ten thousand dollars," he grunts as he rakes his hands through his hair. "Why not?"

I have no clue what he's talking about and at the rate he throws dollar amounts around, who cares? "Because I hate my body." The words come out of nowhere and they hit me hard. The truth of it all surfaces, as if I'm on a precipice of life and death. Which this is. My mom's last words to me still haunt me. You're fat. You can't be a senator's daughter and walk around like that. I'm taking you to a dietician tomorrow. We'll talk about it tonight.

I take a step back. Something got him pissed. Fury etches his face and then he moves—fast. His hands grip the hem of the T-shirt and he rips it up, forcing my arms to lift, tearing it over my head, but then he pulls the T-shirt down, basically trapping me with it before my arms can slip free. He spins me around, my arms pinned at my sides as he fists and twists the material in one hand at the center of my back.

The cat is tired of playing with the mouse.

I'm out of breath at the sudden swift and precise attack, as if he's done this move a million times. I'm facing the mirror now, his body trapping mine against the vanity, the cold marble pushing into my hips. I'm conscious of the length of his legs as they hug mine, the warmth of his body as his gaze meets mine in the mirror.

"Don't say those words ever again," he growls. "Do you understand?"

I can't respond. Not while his free hand gathers my hair where strands spill over my chest, uncovering my breasts one by one as he looks on. Heat spreads over my face at my nipples' response, but I can't look away. He leans in and blows a cold stream of air that flows over my skin, down to where my hardened nipple puckers even more as the air ghosts over it. I sag against his chest, too weak to protest, too aroused to resist.

Matteo's breathing becomes ragged as his knuckles slide down my shoulder, over my arm to my ribcage, and then he trails his fingertips over my stomach, higher, so that he strokes the underside of my breasts. As he brushes his thumb over my hardened nipple, I gasp, wanting to reach out for him, but I'm trapped.

"You are pure perfection," he whispers, his lips warm against the shell of my ear. "Just look at you."

All I can do is moan. I've become aware of his erection where it's pressed against my butt, hard and long, and all I want to do is rub against it. Encourage it. Beg for more.

"Open your eyes, kitten," he whispers, and as if drugged I struggle to lift my lids, blinking at him in the mirror. "We're going to work on this. You're fucking perfection," he murmurs. "Do you understand?" When I say nothing, he brushes his lips along my temple. "Answer me, kitten. Do you understand?"

"Yes." My voice is small, my heart in my throat.

He lets go of the T-shirt and the tension in the fabric gives way as my legs almost do too. He holds me up though, his legs pressing me against the vanity for two seconds, allowing me to find my balance.

"Now, for the last fucking time, strip and get into the shower."