Page 32 of Cage of Thorns and Blood

His face softens, and he sighs as he dresses in the clothes he was wearing before we got all animalistic with each other. “I'm still running you home,” he says.

It isn’t an offer—it's a command. A part of me likes that. The way he takes control is hot as hell in this instance, but other times it drives me crazy. I'm a control freak, so we are likely to clash somewhat on this. Yet, deep down despite my control freak tendencies, part of me wants someone to take that away from me. The trouble is I've never found anyone strong enough. I'm not sure if Matteo is because I’m not sure any man is. But he's a very strong contender and the only man I’ve met who seems to be capable of standing up to me in that calm way he has.

Once we're both dressed, we exit the bathroom and I'm suddenly self-conscious as he leads me down the stairs. We exit the door, and he beeps the lock on the car and ushers me inside, door held open. Once we're seated, he places a call and instructs someone to bring a car and follow us. A few minutes later, two men jog out of the house and climb in to one of the ever-present SUVs, following us as we peel out of the driveway.

He’s silent for the first five minutes or so of the journey, until I turn to look at him. “Don't you want to talk?” I keep the annoyance out of my tone. “Seeing as you forced yourself on me for another thirty minutes or so.” I nudge his leg to show that I'm partially joking.

“Do you want to do this again? Tonight, I mean. Would you like a repeat?”

The bluntness of his question surprises me. I stare out of the window for long beats and then face him. “Yes, I would like that very much, Matteo.” There are no lies detected and no games within that statement. It's the truth. I would very much like to do this again with him, and lying about that is pointless.

“I'll pick you up on Sunday then; three in the afternoon okay with you?”

“I can't do Sunday. I have a family dinner.”

“Tell them you're busy,” he demands.

“You could always come with me,” I say with a soft laugh.

“Jesus Christ, can you imagine the expression on your father's face if I strolled into the house?”

“To be honest, if they thought you were going to marry me and make an honest woman of me, he'd probably just thank you.” It's a joke, but he doesn’t respond.

Way to go Renata, you emotionally stunted fool. Dear God. Who mentions marriage on a first date? Even in a joking context, it's a stupid thing to do.

“Do you want to get married again?” he finally asks.

I thought he’d make a joke or ignore my remark altogether. This a serious question, though, asked in a serious tone.

“I'm not sure to be honest.” For a moment, I let the mask slip, and I stop playing the games because it's too exhausting. I used to be close to this man. I used to have feelings for him. And these days I'm not close to anybody. Except for Jilly and Carol. “My marriage was a disaster, so I'm not sure I'm cut out for it.”

“I think you are,” he says. “You just need the right man.”

“And is that man you?” Once more I keep my tone light, but the air in the car has grown heavy with the weight of something I don't quite understand.

“I'm not sure that it would be me, Renata.” My heart sinks, but he continues. “You and I, we aren’t oil and water; we are oil and oil with a match thrown on top.”

I laugh at that because it’s true.

“So maybe it’s not me. Or maybe it is because I sure as shit wouldn't let you run around without a security detail. I also would never let you be in the business, and from what you've said before that's something of a deal breaker for you.”

I'm about to give him hell for his old-fashioned ideas when he continues speaking.

“What I would do for you, Renata, is give you something that I think you need.”

“Oh, and what exactly do you think that I need?”

“Grounding,” he says. “You need grounding, Renata.”

“You'd like to clip my wings, would you?” I let the annoyance I'm feeling inside bleed out in my tone. Why do all the men in my life from Babbo to Nico, to this man, want to keep me caged?

“That isn’t what I said. I didn't say I wanted to tether you, or trap you in some sort of cage, did I now? What I stated was that you need grounding. Before someone can truly spread their wings, they need to feel safe. They need to feel secure. I don't think you've ever had that in your life.”

Tears prick my eyes, and I'm so grateful for the dark around us. How can he know this about me? He knows nothing about me these days. For all Mateo understands about my life, I could be the most grounded and happy person on this entire planet.

I'm about to come back with some witty one-liner that I hope will annoy him, when he renders me speechless.

“And I’d also give you so many orgasms, that you wouldn’t have the energy to worry about being on the fucking board. If you annoyed me about it, I’d spank it out of you, then fuck it out of you, and then I’d give you enough fucking money to build any legitimate business empire you wanted. I wouldn’t care if you became a gazillionare; my male ego doesn’t need to be the richest or most successful in my relationships. What I do need, though, is for my wife to be safe, and if she insists on being in this cursed life, then she never will be.”

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