Chapter 21

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

MATTEO

I n the gym, I hit the bag bare-knuckle, enjoying how the fabric bites my skin and makes my knuckles hurt and bleed. My heart pulses through my body like it's trying to signal me to slow down, but I can't. I won't. Slowing down means thinking, and my thoughts keep returning to her. To the kiss. To how hot and ready she felt.

Finally, though, I can't take it anymore. I stumble away from the bag, almost collapsing, my chest heaving as I use my teeth to strip off one of my gloves. Tearing off the second one, I sit down, picking up my phone as I try to think of something to text Bella.

I need to tell her that last night was a mistake. Even if that's a lie—even if a mistake is the last thing it feels like—I need to end this. If the shit with the Gallos goes wrong, it could mean another war. I can't have attachments in that case. I can't risk her life.

A text from her is waiting for me when I take a break.

Something bad just happened. I was walking to work, and a man dragged me into the alleyway. He pushed me against the wall and said some terrifying things. He wanted me to tell you that they know where I live. He wanted me to tell you that if you even think about doing anything, they will hurt me.

I call her immediately, but she rejects it.

I'm in the hospital. My mom says I shouldn't speak to you.

Who was this man? I type, my hands trembling, my skull feeling like it's splitting down the middle.

I don't know. He didn't give me his name.

What did he look like? Did he have an accent? Any tattoos?

I don't remember, she replies. It all happened so fast, but he insisted that you back off. He said if you don't, that next time … I can't even type it. He basically said he and his friends would "make use" of me, if you get my meaning.

My blood turns to ice as I remember what Elio said about the Gallos' big plans for their brothels earlier. I try to call Bella again, but she rejects it.

Please stop calling.

You need to tell me what hospital you're at, I reply.

I can't do that. My mom will freak.

What do YOU want to do?

There's a long delay, which makes my mind work overtime as I try to figure out the best course of action. My instincts tell me to burn, burn, burn the fuckers—to wipe every Gallo off the face of the goddamn planet. To kill and keep killing until there's nobody left to make Bella feel small.

I think we shouldn't see each other for a little while. Tell Sofia I'm sorry, but she should find another teacher.

I move my thumb to the call button again, but do I have the right to harass her now? This isn't a question of violin lessons, kissing, closeness, or any of that. This is life or death. I press the button, which gets a quicker rejection this time.

I've made myself clear.

Part of me hopes this is her mom and her friend talking through her. It's a cruel, low, frankly pathetic thought to have—this eagerness for it not to be her who hates me. Yet it's there all the same.

Grinding my teeth, I decide I'll have to do something crazy: tell her via text, not all of it, but she needs to know at least some.

You're in serious danger, Bella. That man could return. Other men could return. This is bigger than you and me. You need to let me move you someplace else.

Move me where?

Somewhere safe.

Three dots appear in the chat conversation, telling me she's typing a message. Without even meaning to, I've started pacing up and down the gym, grinding my teeth as I attempt to figure out how to fix this. I shouldn't want to fix it. However, I can't make sense of the Gallos' plan here.

Threaten Bella? To what end? To keep her away from me and keep her safe? It doesn't make any sense. Maybe they're planning a future attack and want to ensure I'm not around. In that case, why didn't they just get her today?

Matt, I don't even understand why I'm not safe here.

I sigh heavily, typing, I'm the Don of the DeLuca Mafia. Our legitimate businesses are a way to clean the dirty money we make in our illegitimate endeavors. Then I delete it. I can't realistically tell her this over text. Hell, I shouldn't even be thinking about telling her in person.

We need to talk in person, I write. I can explain everything.

Mom would freak if you turned up at the apartment. She thinks you're bad news.

What do you think? I reply.

If her mom hates me, that's already one nail in the coffin of any would-be relationship. Being with a lady means earning her parents' respect and trust. How else will they feel comfortable letting her live the rest of her life with that man?

I close my eyes and take a breath. The rest of her life . What am I even thinking?

I don't know what to think. I don't have any information.

Going to the corner of the room, I grab a towel and wipe sweat from the phone screen. I'm pouring more buckets now than I did during the workout. My heart thuds hard again, too. The idea of losing her shouldn't mean so damn much when, technically, I never had her in the first place.

That's why we need to meet in person. I can't explain over the phone.

Are you a criminal?

The bluntness of the question takes me off guard. She suspects something already if she's asking me that. She must have her suspicions, but it's not as though I can tell her yes over text.

We need to speak in person.

I'm sorry. I can't agree to that.

I spin, bringing my arm back, then stop myself at the last moment. Throwing my phone against the wall in a hissy fit would be childish in the extreme. It's not like it would accomplish anything, and it's not at all like me. But after last night, the idea of forgetting Bella seems impossible, as impossible as being with her seems.

Fuck. Talk about a rock and a hard place, but I know one thing. There's no way I can just let her skip ahead in her life, waiting for the next attack. Even if she's going to hate me for it, I need to see her.

Driving through the city, I wonder if I should've brought backup. Yet if I rock up with my men, it'll freak Bella out even more. Parking at the end of her street, I take a moment, my hands gripping the steering wheel and adrenaline pumping through me too fiercely.

This pit at the bottom of my gut threatens to swallow something I've only just started to feel. It's a strange thought for me to have. I never feel warm or hopeful or any of that crap about women, but the idea of losing Bella …

"Stop being emotional," I growl, hearing my father's tone in my voice. "It never helped anyone."

Climbing from the car, I walk toward her apartment building. I'm about halfway down the street when everything suddenly makes sense. The Gallos must've been following me to this apartment; it's how they knew to follow her. They must've figured this would be a good place to hit me.

That's why they let Bella go. They weren't trying to keep her away from me. They were trying to bait me into making myself vulnerable by exposing myself in public.

This becomes clear when a man walks out in front of me, his face sunk in like a junkie's. That's a Gallo trademark, paying addicts for their dirty work and hoping they'll OD later … or making sure they do. The man raises a brown paper bag, which obviously has a firearm in it.

I throw myself to the ground, straight into a forward roll that scuffs up my shoulders and tears the skin from my neck. Then I spring up and throw all my weight into a hard uppercut. His bones make a gruesome noise as his head snaps back. I'm sure I can feel the bony outline of his chin on my hand.

As he stumbles back, I grab him by the throat and drag him into the grimy, piss-reeking, narrow passageway between two rundown buildings. The only other people on the street are two teenagers. They swiftly turn and take off on their bikes, making me wonder if they're Gallo spotters or just a couple of kids who don't want any problems.

"Please!" the man yelps when I grab his wrist and violently jerk it, causing his wrist to snap and the firearm to fall to the ground.

Kneeling next to him, I grab the ratty wildness of his hair and twist him so he's facing me. "One chance. The name of the man who sent you."

He licks his lips. He looks like he might try to lie for a second, but then he whispers defeatedly, "Orlando …"

I headbutt him in the nose, causing blood to spill from his face. Then I reach into my suit jacket pocket and take out some zip ties and a gag.

"You can't just leave me here," the man squeaks as I tie him to a pipe from one of the buildings.

"I'll send a couple of my friends to pick you up," I snarl. "Unless, when I leave, more men are waiting for me, and you haven't told me. Then I'll be forced to come back here and …"

"It's just me. They thought I could take you by surprise."

"Hmm," I grunt, but it matches my suspicions.

Leaving the wannabe assassin in the piss and the filth, I take out my cell phone and call my brother. Things just got far more urgent. I won't be able to give Bella a choice now. She might hate me for it, and I wouldn't blame her.

Like it or not, she'll have to do what I say.