Bloodied Hands (Bellandi Crime Syndicate 1)

"Matteo Bellandi. You must be Ivory's Uncle Adam." Matteo took his hand, and it was subtle, but there was obviously a struggle for dominance working between the two men as they stared each other down.

"I didn't realize you two were an item now," Adam said with a grimace.

"We're not—" I started, cutting off when Matteo's hand tightened on my elbow.

"It's fairly new," Matteo smiled. "But I recognize the real deal when I have it."

"You didn't the first time," my father muttered, his jaw clenched tight. My mom's eyes were wide, staring at where Adam faced down with Matteo. She seemed to know there was something different from my uncle's usual protectiveness where I was concerned, something just off about the way Adam glared at Matteo but also looked at him like he might be a formidable opponent.

No one stood up to Adam.

Ever.

So that Matteo could and still smile while he did it, well, that was insanity to my mother. I could see the gears turning in her head, wondering about all the rumors that surrounded the Bellandi family. "Honey, you didn't tell me you were seeing someone," she said finally, a tight smile curving at her lips.

"It's new, like Matteo said. Didn't think it was smart to get you all excited," I lied, because the reality was, I never intended to tell my parents I was seeing Matteo. My father snorted at my choice of words, knowing damn well excited was a euphemism for pissed off.

Was that what they called it when someone inserted himself in your life and you couldn't escape?

Dating my stalker.

My parents would have been so proud if they'd known.

"Your table is ready, Mr. Bellandi," the hostess inserted, politeness stamped on every one of her features. I wondered if Matteo had slept with her too, but there was no trace of familiarity or jealousy on her face when her eyes met mine. If he had, he'd made sure she knew the score ahead of time and could be professional in the face of his girlfriend's family.

Regardless of how I felt about the temporary nature of Matteo in my life, I appreciated the discretion for my family's sake. They wouldn't take well to having my boyfriend's conquests rubbed in their faces.

Especially not with my history with Matteo.

"Lead the way, Ms. Favre," Matteo gestured, and it was a horrifying realization that he hadn't just stopped by but had every intention of staying for dinner.

"Matteo," I whispered, catching his attention as he guided me in to follow the hostess. "This is not an appropriate time. You can't just insert yourself to dinner with my family, especially not on the rare occasion I get to see my uncle."

"Ah, so you were intending to invite me to meet him another day during his visit?" he asked, guiding me to one end of the table. He sat me in the seat to the right of the head, smoothly lowering himself into the chair at one end. That in and of itself made a statement.

"Well, not exactly," I sighed.

"I thought as much. As you don't seem to want to make the introductions, I took the liberty myself." I could feel my uncle's eyes on me as he took his seat at the opposite end of the table. Normally he didn't care about posturing, and he would have taken the seat next to me.

I knew besides challenging Matteo; he took that seat precisely for the purpose of keeping tabs on me through the meal. Next to me, he might not see everything, but on the other end of the table, he saw Matteo and I perfectly.

I resisted the urge to bash my head on the table, staring at my empty wine glass in frustration.

I needed alcohol.

Lots and lots of alcohol.

My mom and dad sat next to Adam, leaving the seat between my mom and Matteo unoccupied. He didn't seem bothered when he took my hand in his, holding it openly on top of the table for my family to see.

A waiter came, delivering wine into all our glasses without being ordered, and I narrowed my eyes on Matteo's high-handed bullshit. Then I took a few very unladylike swallows of the delicious bordeaux. Matteo's jaw clenched as he watched me drown my inhibitions in my glass.

"So, Matteo, how's business?" My uncle asked, his voice sounding cordial. I knew better. Knew that beneath that fake veneer was a man who would kill Matteo if he thought I was in danger.

And he'd never go to prison for it.

I realized that was why I couldn't let on to my family that I was anything other than a thrilled participant in the ruse of a relationship Matteo crafted. As much as my feelings conflicted over Matteo, I just couldn't live with him being dead either.

That was why I'd never even considered calling Adam in the first place, but his sudden, unplanned visit did suddenly seem all too convenient.