I gasped. "Matteo!"
"I apologize," the waiter whispered backing away from our table. "I didn't intend—"
"Go," Matteo snapped.
"What is wrong with you?" I hissed at him as soon as the waiter left. I could feel eyes on me from all around the dining room, and my cheeks heated with the realization that his moment failed to go unnoticed. Matteo nodded to someone over my shoulder, and I turned to find another Italian man nodding back at him. "Who is that?"
"My security," Matteo grunted.
"That poor waiter didn't deserve—"
Matteo held out a hand, silencing me with his domineering bullshit. "He wanted to fuck you."
"Maybe I should let him," I taunted, standing from the table.
"Sit down," he ordered, but I ignored the command I heard in that too-sexy-for-his-own-good voice.
"I'm going to the powder room." I shook my head as I walked and followed the sign to the back hall of the restaurant. Miraculously, there was no one in the bathroom, and I vented to myself as I went about my business. "Fucking ridiculous man. Like I needed a man to chase off someone because he looked at me. What kind of caveman bullshit is that?" I came out of the stall, surprised to find a woman standing at the sink when she hadn't been before. She smiled at me, kindly not commenting on my tirade that she must have overheard. I'd just finished washing my hands and accepted the hand towel from the attendant, when the door opened, and Adrian appeared in the mirror behind me.
"Get out," he said to her. She slid her eyes to me, before seeming to decide better and fleeing the bathroom.
I swallowed, turning around to face the man who'd strolled right into the ladies' room like he belonged there. "Any chance you haven't realized this is the women's bathroom?" I whispered, and he threw his head back and laughed. It was a shame there was something so off about him, because if it hadn't been for that, he'd have been attractive. Not Matteo-level sexy, but handsome in his own right. Deep golden skin and dark hair, he was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. Even as he stepped closer to me, getting right in my business until I leaned back on the counter with both hands. He drew up one hand, letting his fingers trail over my cheekbone gently, and he watched the contact intently. "So exquisite. I can see what drew him to you."
I swallowed again, jerking my head away from his hand as much as I dared. "Matteo won't be pleased to know you touched me," I whispered. A few hours ago, I'd have said it was an exaggeration, but after seeing the way he reacted to men even looking at me, I couldn't be so sure.
"I imagine not, no," Adrian grinned. "That's part of the fun, you see? Though I imagine we'll have plenty of fun in our own right. I had to be sure you knew that I am interested and willing to risk the wrath of Bellandi should it mean you are the reward."
"That's flattering," I huffed. "But I'm afraid I'm not interested."
"Ah, sweetheart. It's adorable that you think—"
He broke off when the door flung open, Matteo's enraged energy filling the bathroom as he rushed in. The man he'd referred to as his security followed behind him, looking exasperated but pissed off too. "Take your hands off my woman," Matteo snarled. "Or I'll remove them for you."
Adrian stepped back, raising his hands as if he was innocent. "We were only talking, Bellandi," Adrian placated with a shit-eating grin.
"She does not exist for you. Get that through your fucking skull." Adrian smirked back at him, and Matteo's face turned positively feral. "This is not something you want to test me on, Ricci." Adrian didn't ut
ter another word as he strode to the door, but he paused long enough to wink at me just before he left. Matteo cursed, balling his hands into fists. “Scar’s on her. Round the clock," he ordered the security man. He nodded, turning and striding out of the bathroom, seeming content to go about his duty as Matteo ordered. "Are you okay?" Matteo turned to me, his hands cupping my cheeks. Momentarily distracted by how good they felt—especially compared to the icky way my skin crawled when Adrian touched me—it took me too many precious seconds to draw away. I needed him to not touch me. Needed to never remember what it felt like when his hands were on me.
"I'm fine," I nodded, taking a deep breath to compose myself. It hadn't been bad. He'd barely touched me. It was nothing like the last time.
I'd be fine.
Matteo studied me, sighing at whatever he saw on my face. Taking my hand, he guided me back to the table. We settled in, and our food followed within minutes. I did my best to steady my shaking hands, drawing a fortifying breath into my lungs. The glass of wine on the table proved too tempting to ignore, and it took everything in me to not spill it all over my dress. "Did he touch you, Angel?" Matteo's low rumble should have been frightening, but for whatever reason in that moment he wasn't the monster who haunted my nightmares. He showed me a glimpse of the boy I loved, the fake boy who had never existed, letting the terrifying enigma of a man drift away.
"Nothing too serious." I gave him my best effort at a reassuring smile. He hadn't touched me in any way that should have been traumatizing but given my history—given the way I reacted to the touch of men I didn't know—it was too much.
Being with Matteo already had my body strung tight, lingering on the edge of some cliff that I just knew I could never let myself fall over. To do so would be to fall to my heartbreak again. "You're shaken."
"It's not every day that pushy ass men seem to fixate on me." I twisted my lips into a saccharine smile, almost hoping that he would take the bait and stop with the sympathetic, almost caring act.
We both knew it was a lie when all was said and done.
"You can tell me, you know. Whatever it is that—"
"Can we not? Please? Whatever it is, is none of your business." He stared at me like he might argue, before finally tilting his head down in a nod.
"Very well, Cara mia. Tell me about your blog."