Bloodied Hands (Bellandi Crime Syndicate 1)

“No. No, of course not,” he said, stepping back a few steps and backing his way toward the door. “Time to go! Now!” he yelled to his friends.

Why I couldn't just let him leave, I'll never know, but my curiosity had me pressing forward, somehow convinced he wouldn't hurt me after whatever he'd realized. “How do you know my name?” He backed away so quickly that he nearly tripped over his own feet, his eyes wide with fear.

“Tell him we didn’t know. Never would have done this if we’d known you were here. Never. Make sure he knows we didn’t touch you, yeah?” His buddies’ eyes widened as they looked at me, seemingly as lost as I was. They fled out the door regardless, hopping into a van waiting at the curb.

“But I don’t understand. Tell who?”

“Bellandi. Tell Bellandi it’s all good.” He hustled out the door without another glance back leaving me with only one question.

Matteo.

How the hell did a bank robber know my high school boyfriend?

Four

Ivory

The next few hours passed by in a blur of police interviews and news cameras shoved into my face as I tried to escape the insanity of the scene that followed the robbery. To say the police wanted to know my connection to Matteo Bellandi had been putting it lightly, and they were disbelieving and disappointed to find that I hadn’t had one in twelve fucking years. My heart stuttered in my chest. I'd never thought to see Matteo again, and honestly after what he'd done to me, that was for the best. I couldn't say how I'd react.

Would I still love him? Would he still take my breath away? Would I hate him? What if I didn't care about him either way? Then what excuse did I have to hide behind when I just couldn't fall in love with someone?

I realized with a start that I was nervous. And it seemed far worse than the typical nerves that went along with seeing an ex and wanting to prove you were better off without them. It was more than wanting to avoid shrinking back into that weak, pathetic, broken girl he'd made me into.

Even after twelve years, I was still in love with the ghost of a man who had never existed. I was still in love with the lie Matteo had shown me, and what happened after I saw the real Matteo would always haunt me.

Always.

I pulled my gently used Toyota Yaris up to the house in Barrington Hills where I knew Matteo's family lived back in high school, feeling beyond awkward. I'd never been to the estate when we dated, Matteo preferred to keep me separate from his family life that he'd explained as "complicated." He'd been to my house. He'd spent time with my parents, but he’d never allowed me the same courtesy.

That should have been my first sign that something was wrong with our relationship.

Even never having been there, it was common knowledge where Matteo lived. His family’s wealth was legendary, so much so that some people speculated that their business practices were shady, but most attributed that to jealousy. There was no family as synonymous with success as the Bellandi’s.

I'd known going to the estate was my best bet as soon as I realized my curiosity couldn't let me forget the incident in the bank without finding out why there was any connection between Matteo and I. I wanted him out of my life, scrubbed completely from any trace of him. Call it a near death experience, but I was determined to move on once and for all.

And to do that, I needed answers.

Massive wrought-iron gates sat blocking the driveway, making me release a sigh of frustration. I so did not belong on that estate.

A security guard at the gate stopped me, and I rolled down my window with a smile. “Can I help you, ma’am?” he asked, giving me a once over that stated he found me unimpressive.

Ouch.

I wasn’t wearing Versace or anything, but I had dressed and done my makeup to prepare for facing the man who broke my heart all those years ago. Like any sane woman would do. “I’m looking for Matteo Bellandi,” I smiled.

“Baby, whoever you are he doesn’t do seconds.”

“I—what?” I asked, throwing the car into park once I realized that getting inside would not be as simple as I'd hoped.

“You know. He never does the same woman twice. No matter how good she sucks cock, so stop thinking you’re different.” He shook his head, looking at me like he couldn't believe I had the audacity to turn up on Matteo's doorstep.

“I’m not—”

“Turn the car around and be on your way.”

“You don’t understand—”

“Really? Because you look exactly like all the other bitches he brings around.”