Bloodied Hands (Bellandi Crime Syndicate 1)

I was so lonely that even a man I hated seemed like a decent option to cuddle me while I slept. To hold me still while I battled in my dreams. I determined that as soon as Matteo left me, and I knew he would eventually, I would stop looking for perfect.

Perfect didn't exist.

All that mattered was that I found someone who loved me.

Someone who held me.

Someone who knew me, because he asked me questions.

Safe. Content. That was what I needed.

Not a stalker who broke into my home and knew things about me that he shouldn't have known.

???

My eyes were droopy, taking me back to the days of my childhood where I could not be a passenger in a car at night and stay awake. It just didn’t happen. "Where are we going?" I asked, staring out the window as Matteo turned in the opposite direction of my house.

"Home," he answered evasively, his hand clenching the steering wheel tighter as he shifted gears and merged into traffic on I-90.

"My house is in the opposite direction, Matteo. Take me home," I protested, glancing over at the side of his face where his features glittered like the hardest granite. My eyes snapped wide open as unease became very real.

"My bed is bigger."

"I didn't invite you to join me in mine," I hissed, shaking my head in disbelief. I wanted to call for help, wanted to call Duke or Sadie to come pick me up.

But I didn't have my phone.

"I don't even have my purse, or my phone Matteo. I need those things. Please take me home," I begged. He grunted, pressing a button on the steering wheel.

"Boss?" Simon's voice came over the speaker.

"After we're safely in the estate, I need you or Scar to go to Ivory's. Get her phone off the kitchen counter and her purse. Bring them to the house." He glanced over at me, his eyes glittering in the light coming off the dashboard given how dark it was outside. "And a change of clothes for her to wear home tomorrow."

"Anything else?"

"That's all." The line disconnected, and I stared at him in disbelief.

"You can't just tell me I'm staying the night! I have the right to say no." My face twisted when he turned hardened eyes to me.

"We're done with these games. It's time for you to accept that I am not going anywhere, Angel." His voice softened, as if realizing just how much he was asking of me. "I want to move forward with the rest of our lives."

"And you just don't give a shit about what I want? That's promising for our future," I spat, and watched as his jaw clenched. I shut up, feeling like I'd done nothing but test Matteo's limits all night. He was angry with me, frustrated, and I truly didn't know the man well enough to know if that was just bad or if it was terrible for me.

The boy I'd loved never would have hurt me, but he was gone. A lie that had never really existed, one that Matteo admitted was gone forever.

I didn't speak until we pulled up to the gates of the Estate, the guard nodding to Matteo wordlessly before he opened it. Matteo drove in, and when I turned back to see the gates closing a feeling of hopelessness settled inside me. There'd be no escaping his fortress unless he wanted me to. We both knew that. "Matteo," I whispered.

"Quiet, Angel," his voice was low, a barely there whisper that increased my anxiety. Men like Matteo didn't need to yell to be terrifying. They could convey their dissatisfaction without a word, by just existing. He pulled the car to a stop quickly, hopping out and pulling me from my seat.

Donatello stepped out the front door. "Mr. Bellandi. Ms.Torres. Welcome home."

I resisted the urge to point out that it wasn't my home. That it never would be, and Matteo spared me from having to respond when he answered. "We're not to be disturbed. When Simon or Scar return with her things, put them in my office please."

“Certainly,” Donatello nodded, watching with wide eyes as Matteo took my hand and pulled me into the house. We traipsed over the tile floors, and he pulled me up the winding stairs. I had to fight not to trip, my dress too long and my boots not prepared for the speed with which Matteo took the stairs. He didn't let me take in the landing at the top of the stairs, just turned down one of two hallways and led me all the way to the end.

The master bedroom was a very different style than the rest of the house. Modern, clean lines done in a combination of dark grey and tan, I had to wonder what prompted the difference between that room and the rest of the house.

"I never bothered remodeling the rest of the house," he answered my silent question. "But this room I did as soon as I moved back in after my father died."