Bloodied Hands (Bellandi Crime Syndicate 1)

"Okay," I whispered. Matteo turned to me, inspecting me. Satisfied with whatever he saw, he climbed out of the car. Regardless of what Matteo said, I was grateful I lived in dresses. My sky-blue wrap dress was timeless and classy, and probably the one thing I might have contemplated wearing to meet Matteo's uncle, anyway.

With both his parents gone, the disapproving Uncle was the closest thing to parents he had left. Lino liked me, I thought. So, there was just the Uncle left to sway. Maybe he'd come around eventually, right?

I couldn't imagine spending my life with a man, to have half his family hate me for the entirety of our time together. "About me being your wife," I started as soon as he opened the car door for me. He pulled me out, tucking the hair behind my ear on one side.

"Mhm," he murmured, shutting the car door with a soft thud.

"I don't want to be a problem for your family. You don't have to feel obligated to make me promises, Teo. Not every relationship is built to last, maybe—"

"Don't," he hissed, the hand that closed the door staying planted firmly so he trapped me against the car. "Nobody obligates me to do anything. Ever."

"But maybe this is better off as a short-term relationship. We don't have to muddy it up with things like divorce and kids—"

"There will never be a divorce," he grunted, grasping my hand in his and tugging me away from the car. "I will only marry once, Ivory."

"So, let it be with someone—"

"Enough." His voice was a whisper, but the warning was clear. I didn't even know why I bothered to argue with the man sometimes. So stuck in his own way that he'd never consider when someone else offered him a viable option.

"Okay," I whispered back, knowing fully well I'd resume the conversation another time.

I plastered an easy smile on my face, determined to make the best impression despite whatever Matteo's uncle might think of me. Matteo knocked on the door, as cool as ever, and I snuggled into his side. The last thing I wanted when his uncle formed his opinion of me firsthand was for Matteo to be distant because I'd pissed him off. A bit of his coolness melted as he grasped me around the waist and smiled down at me momentarily, but I knew the rest of his attitude wouldn't change. He was in work mode, the same calculated way he behaved the moment he set foot in his office or when talking with one of his guys who he didn't trust as much.

At first, the persona had terrified me, especially combined with my residual hatred of his office itself. But after being around him in that mode more often, I was insanely attracted to it. The dark waves of dominance that poured off him appealed to something in me, the part of me who had floundered on her own and worked to find herself loved the comfort in which Matteo just was who he was.

When a middle-aged Italian woman answered the door, she nodded to Matteo respectfully before turning surprised eyes to me. "Mr. Bellandi. We weren't aware you were bringing a guest." Panic crossed over her features, and Matteo continued as if he wasn't bothered by it. Stepping into the house like he belonged, he dragged me with him. The woman's eyes darted toward the living room, and voices sounded from the space. Matteo's eyes narrowed at the sound of a woman's tinkle of laughter.

"What did he do?" Matteo growled, clasping me tighter around the waist.

"He invited Mr. Morelli and his daughter," she whispered, eyes clenched. Her tension racketed up my own until I gasped when Matteo used the hand at my waist to guide me into the living room without preamble. Lino stood off to the side, totally and completely devoid of all the playfulness I was so used to seeing in him. His serious mask had been in place before we'd even entered the room, but it faded momentarily when he approached us.

"Ivory, sweetheart, you look beautiful as always," he said, pressing a kiss to my cheek affectionately. He and Matteo exchanged a look, and it was clear who Lino would side with when the battle lines were drawn. Judging from the disbelieving glare the three other occupants of the room leveled me with, I had to guess that moment was approaching.

Quickly.

"Matteo." His uncle grimaced. "What's this?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Gabriele. I'm fairly certain I made it very clear the last time we saw one another that I was not interested in your arrangement regarding Elena." I felt the wince that went through my body as my eyes met hers, knowing that the beauty on the couch with the big brown eyes was my competition as far as she was concerned.

She smiled, completely unconcerned with Matteo's dismissal. Whatever arrangement Matteo's Uncle Gabriele had in mind; love wasn't a part of it. She stood from her perch on the blue velvet sofa, crossing the distance between us to press her lips to Matteo's cheek in greeting. I fought to maintain my composure, knowing I needed to appear unconcerned with the beauty before me. If Matteo wanted her, he would have her, no doubt.

I didn't want to think about the fact that he could have already.

"It's always lovely to see you, Matteo," she practically purred. "Who is your friend?"

I bristled at the blatant dismissal, feeling murderous as she reached out a hand to touch his forearm in familiarity. I didn't understand how I'd gone from trying to shove a woman at him to feeling possessive, but I suspected it had something to do with the heavy, weighted ring sitting on my finger.

"Elena," Matteo said coolly. "This is my fiancé, Ivory."

Her eyes widened, and she turned her back to us momentarily to shoot a meaningful glare to Gabriele. "You assured me I would be his wife."

"You will be," the Uncle reassured her, ignoring the glare Matteo shot him. "She is merely a passing fancy. You know how men are."

"The ring on her finger tells a different story," she spat, eyes darting to my left hand where Matteo used it to drag me into his side. "Such a pity. Come daddy, I believe we've been misled enough for one day." The other man followed his daughter out the door.

"Lino, take Ivory into the dining room," Matteo said, and my eyes turned to him. I wanted to argue that my place was beside him, but the menace on his face communicated that this was exactly one of those moments where I just needed to get the Hell out of his way.

"Of course," Lino agreed, holding out an arm for me to take. I stepped away from Matteo, letting him guide me to the door at the back of the room.