Then he’d seen Alessia. And he had allowed her a place inside him, a place that was warm and bright, one that he could retreat to. He saw happiness through her eyes when he watched her. His attraction to her not physical, but emotional. He let a part of himself live through her.
And that day when he’d seen those men attacking her, the monster inside him had met up against passion that had still existed in the depths of him, and had combined to create a violence that was beyond his control. One that frightened him much more than that moment of controlled violence in his father’s presence had.
More even than that final act, the one that had removed his father from his life forever.
Because it had been a choice he’d made. It had been fueled by his emotion, by his rage, and no matter how deserving those men had been … it was what it said about himself that made him even more certain that it must never happen again. That he must never be allowed to feel like that.
“Do you see?” he asked. “Do you see what kind of man I am?”
She nodded slowly. “Yes. You’re a good man, with a tragic past. And the things that happened weren’t your fault.”
“When I went back home the day of your attack, there was still blood all over me. I walked in, and my father was there. He looked at me, saw the evidence of what had happened. Then he smiled, and he laughed,” Matteo spat. “And he said to me, ‘Looks like you’re ready now. I always knew you were my son.’”
That moment was burned into his brain, etched into his chest. Standing there, shell-shocked by what had happened, by what he had done. By what had nearly happened to Alessia. And having his father act as though he’d made some sort of grand passage into manhood. Having him be proud.
“He was wrong, Matteo, you aren’t like him. You were protecting me, you weren’t trying to extort money out of those men. It’s not the same thing.”
“But it’s the evidence of what I’m capable of. My father had absolute conviction in what he did. He could justify it. He believed he was right, Alessia, do you understand that? He believed with conviction that he had a right to this money, that he had the right to harm those who didn’t pay what he felt he was owed. All it takes is a twist of a man’s convictions.”
“But yours wouldn’t be …”
“They wouldn’t be?” He almost told her then, but he couldn’t. The words he could never say out loud. The memory he barely allowed himself to have. “You honestly believe that? Everyone is corruptible, cara. The only way around it is to use your head, to learn what is right, and to never ever let your desire change wrong to right in your mind. Because that’s what desire does. My father’s desire for money, your father’s desire for power, made them men who will do whatever it takes to have those things. Regardless of who they hurt. And I will never be that man.”
“You aren’t that man. You acted to save me, and you did it without thought to your own safety. Can’t you see how good that is? How important?”
“I don’t regret what I did,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “I had a good reason to do it. But how many more good reasons could I find? If it suited me, if I was so immersed in my own needs, in my own desires, what else might I consider a good reason? So easily, Alessia, I could be like Benito was.”
“No, that isn’t true.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because you’re … good.”
He laughed. “You are so certain?”
“Yes. Yes, Matteo, I’m certain you’re good. Do you know what I remember from that day? The way you held me after. Do you know how long it had been since someone had tried to comfort me? Since someone had wiped away my tears? Not since my mother. Before that, I had done all of the comforting, and then when I needed someone? You were there. And you told me it would be okay. More than that, you made it okay. So don’t tell me you aren’t good. You are.”
He didn’t believe her, because she didn’t know the whole truth. But he wanted to hold her words tightly inside of him, wanted to cling to her vision of him, didn’t want her to see him any other way.
“I got blood on your face,” he said, his voice rough. “That day when I wiped your tears.”
She looked at him with those dark, beautiful eyes. “It was worth it.” She took a step toward him, taking his hand in hers. “Come on. Let’s go to bed.”
And he was powerless to do anything but follow her.
Alessia woke the next morning with a bone-deep feeling of contentment. She noticed because she’d never felt anything like it before. Had never felt like things were simply right in the world. That there wasn’t anything big left to accomplish. That she just wanted to stay and live in the moment. A moment made sweeter by the fact that there was nothing pressing or horrible looming in the future.
Then she became conscious of a solid, warm weight at her back, a hand resting on her bare hip. And she was naked, which was unusual because she normally slept in a nightgown.
A nightgown that was torn.
A smile stretched across her face and she rolled over to face Matteo. Her lover. Her husband. He was still sleeping, the lines on his forehead smoothed, his expression much more relaxed than it ever was when he was awake.
She leaned over and kissed his cheek, the edge of his mouth. She wanted him again. It didn’t matter how many times he’d turned to her in the middle of the night, she wanted him again. It didn’t matter if they had sex, or if he just touched her, but she wanted him. His presence, his kiss, him breathing near her.
This moment was one she’d dreamed of for half of her life. This moment with Matteo Corretti. Not with any other man.
She’d woken up next to him once before, but she hadn’t been able to savor it. Her wedding had been looming in the not-too-distant future and guilt and fear had had her running out the door before Matteo had woken up.
But not this morning. This morning, she would stay with him until he woke. And maybe she would share his bed again tonight. And every night after that. He was her husband, after all, and it only seemed right that they sleep together.
They were going to try to make a real marriage out of a legal one.
He’ll never love you.
She ignored the chill that spread through her veins when that thought invaded her mind. It didn’t matter. She wouldn’t dwell on it. Right now, she had a hope at a future she could be happy with. Matteo in her bed. In her life.
And she was having his baby. At some point, that would sink in and not just be a vague, sort of frightening, sort of wonderful thought.
But right now, she was simply lingering in the moment. Not wondering if Matteo’s feelings would ever change, not worrying about changing diapers.
He shifted then, his eyes fluttering open. “Good morning,” he said. So much different than his greeting the morning after their wedding.
“Good morning, handsome.”
“Handsome?”
“You are. And I’ve always wanted to say that.” To you.
“Alessia … you are something.”
“I know, right?” Matteo rolled over onto his back and she followed him, resting her breasts on his chest, her chin propped up on her hands. “Last night was wonderful.”
He looked slightly uncomfortable. Well, she imagined she wasn’t playing the part of blasé sophisticate very well, but in her defense … she wasn’t one. She was a women with very little sexual experience having the time of her life with a man who’d spent years as the star attraction in her fantasies. It was sort of hard to be cool in those circumstances.
He kissed her, cupping her chin with his thumb and forefinger. She closed her eyes and hummed low in her throat. “You’re so good at that,” she said when they parted. “I feel like I have a post-orgasm buzz. Is that a thing?”
He rolled onto his side again and moved into a sitting position, not bothering to cover himself with the blankets.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I can’t say I’ve ever experienced it.”
“Oh.” That hurt more than it should have. Not because she wanted him to have experienced post-orgasm buzz with anyone else, but because she wished he’d experienced it with her.
“What is it, cara?”
“Nothing.” She put her palm flat on his chest and leaned in, her lips a whisper from his. Then his phone started vibrating on the nightstand.
“I have to take that,” he said, moving away from her. He turned away from her and picked it up. “Corretti.” Every muscle in his back went rigid. “What the hell do you want, Alessandro?”
Alessia’s stomach rolled. Alessandro. She would rather not think about him right at the moment. She felt bad for the way things had ended. He’d been nice enough to her, distant, and there had been no attraction, but he’d been decent. And she’d sort of waited until the last minute to change her mind.
She got out of bed and started hunting for some clothes. There was nothing. Only a discarded red apron that she knew from last night didn’t cover a whole lot.
“I’m busy, you can’t just call a meeting and expect me to drop everything and come to you like a lapdog. Maybe you’re used to your family treating you that way, but you don’t get that deference from me.”