I draw back as soon as I think it won’t be considered rude. Whereas I don’t even consider him “real” family, we used to be close when we were kids. Then he grew up and started working for my dad, and nothing good can come from that. He’s also been a little too supportive in my dad’s endeavors to keep me on a short leash, so I try to stay clear of him as much as possible, even though it’s not an easy task since he’s usually always at our house to see my dad.
He stays close to me, which doesn’t help my annoyed state in any way whatsoever, so I lean back as far as I can without toppling over, the two shots definitely not helping my balance any.
He tilts his head and regards me. “How are you? I haven’t really seen you since . . . you know.”
“The wedding?”
He nods and leans even closer so he can whisper, “I’m used to seeing you every week. I called and texted several times, but you never got back to me.”
My Matteo-induced irritation makes me want to snap at Frederico as well, and it takes all my effort to keep my voice normal. I succeed, mostly. “Yes, sorry about that. I’ve been a bit . . . uh, distraught after everything that happened.”
He rests his hand on my arm and squeezes lightly. “We should get together soon. You know, I’m always here for you. I can help you with whatever you need.”
I tug on my dress, overcome by the urge to make sure I still look impeccable in case he’s reporting back to my dad. “Mmmm, yes. Sure. I’ll let you know.”
“You do that. I can check in with your papà too, to make sure you’re okay.” Then, without warning, he grabs me by both arms and yanks me against his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around me.
It feels like a switch was flipped inside me, and I’m pushed into a corner with no way out. My stomach quivers at the feeling, and I’m thrown back to five years ago to the moment when I was trapped in a similar fashion and unable to get away. It was another set of arms, a skinnier body than Frederico’s, but my brain doesn’t seem to understand that little fact.
When I shiver all over, his hands are suddenly ripped off me, replaced by an arm that’s pressing me against a warm body. My brain registers the woodsy smell with a hint of oranges, and I almost collapse against Matteo, wrapping my hands around his waist like he’s my lifeline.
“Santarossa.” Frederico practically spits out Matteo’s last name like it’s the most disgusting thing that’s ever passed his lips.
Matteo’s muscles tense underneath my fingers. “Fuck off, Gallo.”
Frederico’s nostrils flare and he glares at Matteo. “What’s your problem? If I remember correctly, you’re holding the wrong Fiore in your arms.”
“It’s none of your fucking business what I’m doing or who I’m holding. And you’d do well to remember that.” The words come out of Matteo’s mouth with what sounds like forced restraint, like the low rumbling of thunder before the earth-shattering boom.
I don’t know if they already have a beef with each other, but right now, I don’t even care. All I know is that I have the sudden urge to be anywhere but here. My feet feel steady again, or at least steadier, my little mini-freakout almost forgotten.
Gathering my strength, I push off of Matteo’s hard body, mentally saying goodbye to his abs and tight back muscles. Although he’s a major asshole, I’m still sexually frustrated enough to appreciate his male beauty and what I’m guessing is the body of an Adonis hidden under his suit.
But before I can take a step from the guys who make me feel strangely claustrophobic with their standoff, several things happen all at once. A loud bang pierces the air around us, just as an invisible force hits my chest. It reverberates through my entire body, the sensation jarring and unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. My ears ring immediately, and I’m so disoriented from the sensory overload and the surprise of what I’m guessing was an explosion that I stagger several steps until someone grabs me.
Two seconds later, Matteo’s face comes into view. He regards me with wide eyes, his mouth moving, but I can’t hear much past the ringing in my ears and the occasionalpop. It feels like I’m underwater and everything is muted but a few faint sounds.
People around me scramble in all directions, and I see more than one guy with their guns raised. Light filters in from one of the open emergency exit doors where people try to escape the chaos and the line of fire.
I still have no clue what’s going on or what just happened, but my survival instincts kick in, and I try to get around the bar and closer to the exit. Matteo is still beside me, and since thepop, pop, popsound is louder than before, I’m guessing he’s either the one shooting, or whoever else is, is a lot closer than a few minutes ago.
My brain feels jumbled, and I don’t want to waste any time by peeking around.
I’m almost at the end of the bar when a firm hand pushes me to the floor and around the corner. Matteo appears next to me, his hand still on my shoulder. He seems completely unfazed, like this is just another day at work, which might actually be the case for him.
My stomach turns into knots at that thought because, let’s face it, I’ve let this man do things to me no one else has ever done, all while I know nothing about him. I’m not sure what that says about me, especially now that he’s supposedly engaged to my cousin.
A man walks around the corner, his gun aimed straight at us. Matteo is the first to pull the trigger, and the other man slumps to the floor, the fresh wound in his chest oozing blood onto it. I stare at the man, my brain incapable of fully processing what just happened.
Matteo taps my arm to get my attention, and I focus on him. His lips are moving, but I fail to make out any of his words. I huff in frustration and shake my head while pointing at my ears.
His head bobs up and down in understanding. Then he points to the exit and gestures for me to stay low. At least I think that’s what he means.
I swallow, and he makes a shoo motion at me.
All right. Here goes nothing.
I get on my hands and knees, figuring that might be the safest option for me, and crawl. Yup. It feels just as fantastic as it sounds, which is not at all. Especially taking into account that I need to move around the dead guy on the floor.