Bloodied Hands (Bellandi Crime Syndicate 1)

"Get in the fucking car, Ivory," he ordered, setting me to my feet next to it. I nodded my submission, sensing something different playing beneath the surface of Matteo's sanity in that moment. Something had put him over the edge, and I suspected that it was me.

The only real question was what would he do about it?

I sat and pivoted my legs into the car, flinching when the door slammed closed. I had the brains to realize opening that door would likely be a very poor decision, so I sat with my hands in my lap. Matteo was in the driver's seat only a moment later, reaching across the center compartment to lean into my space and buckle me in himself. With a purr the engine started, and he pulled out of my driveway too fast for my liking. I gripped the seat next to my legs, trying to control my panic. "Matteo—"

"If you ever let another man touch you, I'll kill him," he snarled, his voice so menacing I froze in horror. That voice left little doubt to the fact that he meant every word, summoned straight from the pits of Hell. "We are not in an open relationship. No one touches you. No one touches me. It is you and I from here on out. Am I understood?"

I nodded, staring at my legs as he spoke.

"The words, Ivory. I need the words."

"Yes, Matteo. I understand," I whispered, fighting the urge to cry. I wouldn't let him know how much he'd frightened me. I may not have been the strongest of women, may not have been perfect, but I would be damned if I showed him my weakness. I'd survived him once, and I would do it again, but the second time around I would prove I could do it without letting my heart get involved in whatever twisted games he wanted to play.

He fell silent, driving us through the city, as I tried to reinforce my resolve.

Because I couldn't let him break me.

Not a second time.

???

I don't know where I expected a man like Matteo to take me on a date. Somewhere exclusive. Somewhere classy.

I never would have guessed he'd bring me to Millennium Park. We pulled up onto the side of the road, and Matteo was out quickly and approaching the three men standing on the curb and waiting for us. I recognized Simon and Scar immediately, but the other man beside them was a stranger to me. Matteo tossed the stranger his keys, and I couldn't hear the words that the two of them exchanged from my place inside the vehicle. Matteo strode over to my door, tugging it open with a smooth elegance that spoke to his proper upbringing. He gave me his hand and pulled me free from the car with less patience.

I officially ranked lower than the car in that moment. He guided me down the sidewalk and into the park with his hand at the small of my back. The Aston started up behind us, the strange man whisking it away to park it somewhere safely no doubt. As we made our way in silence, Matteo's expression was steely every time I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. Shivering in the cold, I tried to discreetly cross my arms over my chest and rub some warmth into my mostly bare arms.

"Here, Miss Torres," Scar said from behind us. He shrugged out of his suit jacket, holding it out for me. My lips tipped in a sheepish smile, turning and reaching out a hand to take it.

"No," Matteo said from my side, shaking his head at Scar, who nodded and slid his arms back into the sleeves. Matteo stripped out of his own, draping it over my shoulders until I was suddenly cocooned in his scent—enveloped in the warmth from his body. I shuddered as his hands rubbed up and down my arms now covered in his jacket, releasing a sigh when his lips hit the top of my head. I could only hope that the cruel, dangerous Matteo had vacated his body in favor of the version of him I could handle.

Somewhat.

We resumed walking, picking up a brisk pace after Matteo glanced at his watch. A huge crowd had already formed, but Matteo and his guys made quick work of maneuvering us through it to get to the center near the back where the more relaxed listeners sat in lawn chairs compared to the ones who waited next to the stage. I was grateful for the width of the heel on my boots, and I realized with a start that was what Matteo had inspected back at my house. He'd been checking my ability to walk on grass. It was an oddly considerate, intimate, thing for him to have considered, particularly coming from the man who claimed he didn't even take women to dinner.

He guided me to a huge blanket on the ground, where another man in a suit stood guard. Matteo sat on the blanket, looking altogether unreal. Wearing an expensive Italian suit, handsome beyond belief, he emitted raw powe

r even sitting on a blanket in the park. I sat down next to him, curling my legs to the side. Matteo's security moved behind us, remaining standing, and I tried to ignore them. They gave us enough distance that I knew they wouldn't be eavesdropping or anything of the sort, but it still somehow felt intrusive. Like their presence was just different from the hundreds of people around us.

I was distracted from the awkwardness when a song I recognized well started from the stage. The artist's voice rang loud and clear, and the listeners silenced immediately as my favorite indie musician played one of his first hits. I swallowed back my growing apprehension that Matteo seemed to know so much about me, because there was absolutely no chance that it was a coincidence. We sat in silence, listening to the artist sing about a woman who needed someone to lean on, about a woman who had gone through life alone for too long. I could feel Matteo's eyes on the side of my face, but I refused to look at him. He sighed, repositioning my body until I fell onto my back. My head landed on his thigh, and his fingers took to stroking my hair. Tilting my head away from him, I looked toward the stage. We were far away enough that I couldn't see much beyond the more avid fans who stood close to the stage, but it was better than acknowledging Matteo. His attentiveness in combination with the lyrics of the artist's songs was too much, it made the situation feel like a critical moment in my life.

A crossroad.

My heart pumped in my chest, despite what should have been nothing but calming. "You can trust me," he whispered. I huffed a laugh, resuming my determination to ignore him after the minor slip up. "I know things didn't end well before. There are things you don't know. Things you can't know just yet. I did what I had to do for your sake, Ivory, but leaving you was the hardest thing I've ever done. It broke something inside me, and if you haven't figured it out yet, that boy you loved no longer exists."

"I'll bet. You sure looked broken when you went off to fuck Shauna," I hissed.

He winced, looking ashamed for the first time I think I'd ever seen. Even in high school, Matteo had been unapologetic for his behavior, taking what he wanted when he wanted it. The boy who never heard the word no, the boy who had the world waiting in the palm of his hand if he so much as said the words. "I needed you to hate me," he whispered brokenly, and my head turned to face him and meet his eyes.

"You succeeded," I whispered back. "I’ve never hated anyone as much as I hate you."

His hand cupped my cheek as he stared down at me, a thumb trailing over the freckles on my cheek he'd once found so fascinating. "I'll fix it. I promise."

"No one can fix this, Teo," I murmured, hating how pathetic my voice sounded.

How broken.

"Just watch me," he challenged. I shook my head, returning to silence to listen to the music for the rest of the concert. I let it seep into my bones, remind me of what it felt like to be alone. I'd lived alone for so long, the prospect of not having to be for once appealed in a way I never expected.