Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

MATTEO

I walk behind my sister and her violin tutor. That's how I'm going to have to think of Bella. Just my sister's tutor, nothing more. Walking behind them means I've got a perfect view of Bella's thick, round ass trapped in those jeans. The fantasy from last night hits me, my dick threatening to get hard again.

The apartment building is rundown, but Bella's front door is freshly painted with a new, shiny number. When she opens up, a fresh scent hits me. She's clearly the sort of person who won't let her environment keep her down. I respect that.

"I usually give my lessons in here," Bella says, gesturing to one of the four doors.

"That's fine." Sofia glances at me.

"Go ahead," I tell her. "I'll answer some emails out here."

As they walk away, I look at Bella again. I'm sure plenty of women sway their hips when they walk. I'm sure they do it attractively, too, without self-consciousness or fakeness. I'm sure there's no reason for me to find it so damn captivating.

Once they're gone, I take out my phone and start answering emails. I can faintly hear the women's voices through the door. Then, just as the first strings of a violin start to play, loud dance music blasts from the apartment above. It's absurdly, obnoxiously loud, the kind of volume that tells me right away what sort of person lives there. It's not even midday.

It pumps so hard I'm sure I can feel the apartment shaking. I try to ignore it for a minute, but when it turns up even more, I stand up, full of energy. Going to Bella's room, I knock on the door.

"Is that bothering you?" I ask them both.

Sofia looks at me sharply, a plea in her eyes as though saying, Don't do any Mafia stuff. We agreed .

"I've tried calling the cops," Bella says in a defeated tone that bothers the hell out of me. "They said they've registered a noise complaint, but there's nothing else I can do."

"Do they know you're trying to work down here?"

"Yeah, he does. He doesn't care."

"Right," I mutter.

"It's fine," Sofia says quickly. "We can still learn plenty."

"Damn hard to learn to play an instrument if you can't hear it, though."

There's something sad about the way Bella drops her gaze. It's like she's wordlessly saying, Yeah, I get that, but what are we supposed to do? It's as though she's given up on being the sort of person who can stand up for herself. Maybe the world has beaten her down too much.

"We're fine," Sofia says, looking at me stubbornly.

I shrug. "Okay then."

Leaving the bedroom, I make sure to close the door behind me. I walk quietly across the living room—not that I need to be too careful with the music blaring—and leave the apartment. An old man is leaning against the wall next to the opposite apartment door with one hand on the pommel of his walking stick.

When I see him looking like he knows me, I say, "Hello, sir."

He offers a kindly smile. "Hello. Are you Bella's newest student?"

"My sister has that honor."

He winces when the music gets even louder. "I'm surprised they can focus!"

"I was just saying the same thing," I mutter. "Don't worry. This shouldn't go on much longer."

I walk down the hallway and up the stairs, reminding myself not to let out all the darkness. There's so much brutality in me I could let out, so much savagery. It would be damn easy to just kick in his door and then punch in his teeth, but I promised Sofia I wouldn't bring the Mafia life here. Still, this is just a goddamn joke.

I hammer my fist against the door until the music turns down slightly. An arrogant voice calls from the other side, "What's the fuckin' problem?"

I keep smashing my fist against it until he has no choice except to open up. There's a split second where I can tell that if I were anybody else, he'd come at me like he was ready for a complete war. He's got this automatic sneer on his face, but it dissipates as soon as he looks up at me.

"Why is your music so loud?" I ask in the calmest voice I can manage.

"Uh," he mutters.

"Uh?" I snarl. "It's a simple question."

"I …" He wants so badly to play the tough guy. He's a big guy, almost my height and width, with neck, face, and sleeve tattoos, a gray and dark green mess. "Listen, I'm just having a good time."

"No, my friend," I tell him. "What you're doing is trying to make up for the fact you're a sad, pathetic … Don't fucking interrupt me."

He flinches, closing his mouth immediately. He's clearly not used to being put in his place.

"You're a loser," I snap. "So instead of trying to improve your life, like several people in this building are, you try to drag them down with you. You try to instigate fights. You think it makes you impressive. That's over now. No more music. Not today. Not ever."

He can't help it when the sneer spreads across his face. I can see how difficult it is for him to pretend to be a good person. Well, fucking ditto .

I dart forward and drive my hand against his chest, shoving him against the wall. With my other hand, I quickly grab my walk-around pistol, a small pocket piece that will still do what it needs to if it comes to that.

His eyes snap open widely as I drive the barrel of the gun against his throat.

"My name is Matteo Sebastiano DeLuca, and if you've got any sense in that empty head of yours, you'll shut off that crap and never even think about playing it again." I drive the gun even harder into the soft tissue of his throat. "Do you understand me?"

"Yuh-yuh …"

I apply even more pressure, doing my best to ignore the instincts roaring at me to tear him to pieces. This shouldn't be making me this angry, but my sister is trying to learn, and Bella is trying to teach. Obviously, she's dedicated to it. She undervalues her skills, but she's trying , which is more than I can say for this lowlife.

"Speak," I snap, as the smell of piss rises around us.

"I understand," he finally says, his voice a hollow gasp. "Shit, man. I get it. I get it!"

"Do I seem like I'm joking?" I ask, not removing the gun.

He shakes his head slowly.

"I'm going to be coming by here often. I don't want to blow your head off. It'd be inconvenient, but I will."

"Over music?" he squeaks.

"No." I lean close, letting him see how serious I am. "For respect ."

Pocketing my gun, I turn my back on him, whistling as I leave the apartment. This shows him how little of a threat he is. It's just a shred of the disrespect he shows to everybody in this building every time he blasts that crap.

The old man is waiting for me when I return downstairs, an appraising look on his face. "That's a first. I might be able to listen to my radio now!"

"What's your name, sir?" I ask.

"Jerry Hudson."

"Okay, Mr. Hudson. Let's do this. If that asshole gets too big for his boots again, you call me, all right? I'll give you my cell."

"Why would you do that?"

That's a complicated question. Maybe it has something to do with the guilt often niggling me about the dark parts of my life. Perhaps it's the sheer fact that he pissed me off, or it was that soul-achingly defeated look on Bella's face.

"Somebody has to."