He knew what I kept on my nightstand.
Fifteen
Calla
Spending time with Ryker and the kids, pretending everything was okay and calm, it was easy to see exactly how our lives would play out. Even in the earliest days of what he considered to be an actual relationship, he made it obvious we were his priority. He doted on me, refused to let me lift a finger, and in the absence of being busy, I grew more and more depressed with the reality of my life.
I didn’t know what to do with myself, and that alone was a sad indicator of what my life had become. I didn’t know how to not be busy.
After we dropped Axel at school and Ines off with my father, I glared over at Ryker. He’d told Dad that Ines would be home with us for a few days, so it seemed strange that we were back to business as usual.
Even if I couldn’t go back to the studio just yet. He’d called in my absence the day before, explaining that I’d be out for the near future.
I could just imagine how my boss would rage at me for it when I went back. That she hadn’t called me herself didn’t bode well for me or the likelihood of my job still being there whenever I went back.
“I wasn’t supposed to work today,” Ryker said as he seemed to sense my glare. “Matteo knows that I’m off for now, and he wouldn’t have called me in if it wasn’t important.”
I grunted back at him. “So why can’t I go to work?” I tugged at the distressed jeans where they gaped open on my knees and clung to my skin. It seemed like it had been forever since I’d worn anything that wasn’t elastic. The black T-shirt was simple, and as we drove out of the city and toward the wealthier suburbs of Chicago, I felt underdressed. The only comfort was that Ryker wore black jeans and a black shirt with boots on his feet.
“I’ll arrange your security for the next time this happens, but for today, Matteo said to just bring you to the house.” He cast a glance at me from the side of his eye as he drove.
“What house?” I asked him, hating the cryptic way he seemed so desperate to avoid telling me where he was taking me. Ryker seemed comfortable in his opinions with no fear of confrontation with me, so it made the entire situation more ominous as apprehension made my palms sweat.
“Matteo’s. You can meet the women. This way you’re more comfortable by the time we bring the kids over,” he said, turning toward a long driveway. The gate at the end was the epitome of luxury, making even Ryker’s secure fortress look like child’s play.
“What women?” I asked. The guard at the booth nodded to Ryker, and he returned the gesture as the gates swung open.
“The other wives, Ivory and Samara. Matteo’s daughter, Luna. Ivory’s friend Sadie,” he explained as the gate slid closed behind us. The house in front of me was the very definition of Italian luxury, and Ryker didn’t hesitate to pull the Maserati up in front. I supposed given the fact that he drove a Maserati, it shouldn’t have been surprising.
I was definitely underdressed.
“Who is Matteo again?” I asked when he came to the passenger side and opened the door.
“Matteo Bellandi. My boss.”
“Ryker!” I blanched. “You are not leaving me here!”
“This is the safest place you could ever be aside from with me, Sunshine. Nobody here will hurt you,” he laughed.
“No one will hurt me? You’re psychotic,” I shot back, making him huff a soft laugh. But I didn’t miss the decided shift in his personality. The dark tint to his personality seemed to grow even stronger the moment he closed the car door behind me.
I stood still, making him go through the effort of grabbing me by the elbow and leading me to the front of the house. The grey booties on my feet scuffed the ground as I tried not to move. I knew I was only prolonging the inevitable, but there was no way I could walk inside the home of Matteo fucking Bellandi.
When he’d said he was a criminal, I hadn’t expected he was quite that much of a criminal that he associated with the Bellandis.
That was on another level.
“Ryker!” I whispered, protesting as he dragged me forward, but he didn’t seem to care. Didn’t even pause in his steps as he brought me closer and closer to what I felt certain was my doom.
I hadn’t even put makeup on. Who didn’t wear makeup to meet a mob boss?
Me. That’s who.
He shoved the front door open and strode in like he belonged, and I resisted my urge to gasp. Fuck, he didn’t even knock.
We were going to get shot.
“Calla!” a familiar voice shouted gleefully, and the sight of Samara’s coppery hair came flying in through the sitting room to the entryway. She crashed into me, making Ryker grunt and step back.