Page 24 of Cage of Thorns and Blood

I lapse into silence as he nods and looks away, staring out of the large, mullioned windows to the lawn beyond.

I’ve wondered how come Matteo became head of the family when it was really Clifford’s place if succession was linear. After all, Aldo, Clifford’s father, was the former boss, and Alberto was his second. Although the rumors were always that they ran it together in reality, with equal power.

Since Aldo died, though, Matteo has allegedly taken over, and he is definitely in charge. From what I hear, Clifford is scary crazy, but he’s not the leader of their merry band. That role is Matteo’s. I want to ask, but it’s far too soon to show curiosity about their family dynamic.

The plan is: get him in bed. Earn his trust. Screw him over, and hopefully screw my family over at the same time. After all, I received enough money in my divorce to be comfortable even if I bring both families down financially.

The trust between Matteo and I has to come before the nosy inquisition. Still, I’m burning with curiosity.

“You want a tour of the house?” he asks.

I nod. “I’d love one.”

He leads me out of the library and shows me around the downstairs. It’s opulent but tasteful. Modern but with some old pieces of furniture that fit in well with the more contemporary décor. Damn, Matteo has good taste. “You decorated this place beautifully,” I tell him.

He laughs softly. “You mean the interior designer that I paid tens of thousands to did.”

“Oh, she’s talented,” I say. “I should get her number.”

“His, and he’s booked up until next year, or so he said when I asked if he’d look at a friend’s place for him.”

It’s a pity because if I do buy myself a pad, then it would be amazing to hire someone with such a keen attention to detail. Then again, I can do it myself. I love to shop and who better to design my space than me. The actual painting I’d leave to the professionals, but buying furniture and trinkets would be fun.

We walk through the kitchen, and it has been totally gutted and redone. It’s modern, sleek, and to be honest, it’s the only room I don’t love. It lacks personality somehow.

“The garage is this way. Unless you’re interested in cars, then there’s nothing in there.”

“Oh, I’m interested in cars,” I tell him with a smirk.

He casts me a puzzled glance but then nods. He ushers me into the garage and flicks the light on. It’s cavernous. Utterly huge. He’s extended it surely.

I look at the cars and give a satisfied nod. “Okay, we can go.”

He holds the door for me again but stares at me as we leave the room. “Did you just check that my cars passed some sort of test?”

“Yes,” I admit.

He frowns. “Like what? They have to be worth a certain amount? Or a certain horsepower?”

I giggle. “No. nothing of the sort. I just don’t date men who own red sports cars. Well, certain red sports cars.”

“What? Are you for real?”

“Relax, cowboy.” I wink. “You didn’t have any, so you passed.”

“Why, though?”

“Because they all have small dicks or ego issues in my humble opinion.”

He’s just taken a sip of the scotch, and he coughs as it goes down the wrong way. He clears his throat and looks at me with watery eyes. “Are you shitting me right now?”

“No. My dad always drove a red Italian sports car, so any man who drives one reminds me of him. I don’t like my father, just so we’re clear. So a red Italian sports car is a red flag for me.”

“You have reverse daddy issues,” he says.

“What?”

“Instead of looking for a man who can fill daddy’s shoes, you’re looking for anyone who you think is different than him.”

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