Page 43 of Cage of Thorns and Blood

“I can’t,” I say.

He drops a kiss to the top of my head.

“How about we do this again? Wednesday?”

That works for me, and it gives me time to think.

I second guess my decision as I get dressed. I’m so achy and tender though that my poor lady bits definitely need a break.

Matteo drives me home, and the conversation in the car is the most relaxed it’s been between us since we met again at the restaurant. Maybe the animalistic sex has mellowed us for a while.

Once back at home, I look up everything I can about Matteo and Clifford. I read and re-read the papers I photographed. Then I have a hit of inspiration. I might not be able to find information about Matteo’s real business interests easily, but I can certainly find out about these dummy companies. I send an email to my PI and ask for a report ASAP on the corporations. That shouldn’t be too risky. It isn’t like I’m asking them to dig deep into Matteo’s family or anything.

The week passes in a blur. I’m anxious, and it’s a horrible, panicky, slightly breathless feeling. I’m in a game here I don’t know how to play to win. Or how to make sure I don’t lose at least. My mother has asked for an update, and I’ve told her I’ve had a few dates with Matteo and left it at that.

She seemed somewhat disappointed, but I didn’t want to give her the information yet until I have a better idea of what those companies are all about.

When Wednesday comes around, I’m a mess. I get a text from Matteo saying he’s sending a car, and his chef will prepare a meal for us. He asks what I would like to eat.

My nerves have done a number on my appetite so I ask for something light, maybe chicken and a salad.

He texts back immediately.

Are you sick?

God, does everyone think I’m so greedy I never eat a healthy meal? The text makes me flush and reminds me of my mother’s underhanded words.

I jab at my phone, typing out a response.

No, why would you think that? I just fancy something light.

Three dots appear and then disappear.

That’s okay. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.

Yeah, as if he cares. He wants me to pass my family an unexploded bomb timed to detonate on them and blow them up, businesswise. As if he cares about me, really.

By the time I arrive at his house, thirty minutes late, I’m in a bad mood.

He opens the door for me and looks at me and frowns. “What gives?”

“What do you mean?” I snap.

“You. You look thunderous.”

“I’m just not in the best mood,” I snap. “I can’t always be sunshine and fluffy clouds.”

I sweep past him into the hallway. He takes my light summer jacket, and his gaze rakes down my outfit. I’m wearing a long silk shirt dress, tied at the waist with a belt. It’s really flattering to my figure, and if his hungry expression is anything to go by, he thinks so too.

“I don’t think you’ve ever been fluffy clouds, Renata,” he says softly.

“Oh, what am I then?”

“Tropical storms and windswept beaches. Scorching hot days and wild Sirocco winds.” He leans in and kisses my throat, inhaling as he does. “You are all the beautiful, awe-inspiring extremes and never just a mild, slightly cloudy day.” He pulls back and looks at me. “You’re never ordinary, Renata. You never were, and you never will be.”

When the fuck did he become so damn poetic? I want to hate him today, but his kisses and words are making it hard.

“Come. I have something for you.” I glance at the dining room as we pass.

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