“Sorry.”
He pokes his fork into the last bite of eggs and puts it into his mouth, his lips rolling over each other like they don’t want to miss a single morsel of flavor. Then he nudges the plate away and leans forward with his elbows on the dark-gray island. “Are you worried about the meeting with your dad?”
I chew and swallow before answering, “I’m trying not to be, but it’s pretty much impossible. You’d understand if you were around him for a while.”
“How so?”
I shrug. “He likes to spring things on people, often without any kind of warning. I think he likes that it throws people off, which often works to his advantage.”
“Mmmm.” His eyebrows crease deeply, but he doesn’t share his thoughts.
“He wasn’t always like this. Nothing was the same after my mom died.” I think back on all the years with my dad and how things changed. I’m not even sure why exactly, just that they did. It’s not like he ever talked to me about her or what was going on with him.
I swallow. “I’m not saying he was an angel before either, but I’d like to think the dad from back then wouldn’t have sold his daughter off for his own gain. His only daughter, his only child.”
Matteo watches me, his silence oddly comforting. It brings back that piece of strength, of determination I’ve discovered since I’ve been with him.
A sigh escapes me as that familiar numbness comes back, which is exactly what I need to face my dad. “When are we meeting with him?”
Matteo purses his lips. “Five o’clock.”
My mouth falls open. “Today?”
“Yes.”
Damn it. I was hoping I’d have a few more days before I had to face him.
My gaze flickers to the clock on the wall. Since I slept in, it’s already nearing noon. “What time do we need to leave?”
“Half an hour before then.”
“Sounds good.” I eat my last bite and stand, taking both of our plates and putting them in the dishwasher. When I walk to the sink to take care of the pans, he stops me with a hand on my arm.
“I’ve got it.”
“I don’t mind.”
“Neither do I.”
“Okay, thank you.”
“No problem.”
I turn away from him, but his hand slides down to grab my wrist, hauling me back to him. My body smacks against his, my hard nipples aching at the contact, longing for more.
He keeps hold of my wrist with one hand and shoves the other into my hair, half of his palm cradling my cheek. It’s possessive yet gentle, and I gaze up into his dark-brown eyes.
“I don’t want you to worry about anything today. I won’t let anything happen to you, and youwillbe coming back home with me.”
“Why?” The question is out of my mouth before I can think it through. Do I even want to know the answer?
He told me the whole thing with Ally was a sham to lure out Nikolai—one that will most likely not go down well with either my father or my uncle—and that he doesn’t want her. He never said he wants me, at least not long term.
Yes, we’ve been playing house, and I’ve enjoyed a level of freedom and comfort I never had before, but I don’t think the same can be said for him. First, he had to take care of me and my injury, and then I brought trouble to his front door, quite literally in the form of a dead bunny. Now he’s getting pictures sent to his home with his eyes crossed out.
Instead of wanting to protect me, to promise me the safety and freedom I long for so dearly, he should be eager to drop me back off at my father’s house.
Yet he isn’t.