Page 47 of Cage of Thorns and Blood

As I consider his invite, a plan forms in my mind. A devious one, and it makes my stomach fizz with excitement. “Alright,” I say. “I'll take you up on that kind invitation and stay. I don't have anything to get back for, and it might be nice to chill out here for the weekend.”

“It’s not that kind.” His deep laugh rumbles through me. “In fact, I have ulterior motives.”

My heart skips a beat.

“I want your body where I can have access to it on my every whim.” His hand slides over my back.

I kiss his shoulder. “Sounds like the kind of ulterior motives I can get on board with.”

I have a plan now. Something I can do to further equalize the stakes between us, but if I’m being honest, it isn’t the only reason I want to accept his offer.

The more I think about going back to that cold, sterile apartment, being on my own again for the whole weekend, the more I feel depressed.

I've never admitted to anyone how much I dislike being alone. I always portray this image of a confident, single woman. If anyone knew the truth, they'd be shocked. However, the fact of the matter is, I intensely dislike my own company. I spend my time filling the space with noise and things to do. I'll turn the music up full blast and clean even though the place is spotless. I hope to get a dog, or a cat. Probably a dog. Cats are far too independent. I want something to love me. Unconditionally. The way my family never has.

The thing about your own company is, if you're a well-adjusted person, it’s probably quite pleasant. When you're a neurotic, bitter, angry mess, then spending time on your own is nothing but toxic. I usually start to get angry and then stressed. Or I get sad, and I hate crying. I blatantly refuse to cry anymore over my family. I try to see Jilly as often as I can, and Carol when she's in town. I really should try to make some other friends, but it isn’t easy. I’m that desperate that I even asked my nail technician out for a drink one night, and although she said yes, it was clear we weren't going to click.

That's the other problem I have. I don't really fit in anywhere. In a strange way, despite the enmity between our families, Matteo and I are from the same small slice of life. My family has money and lots of it. What they don't have is respectability. I've never fit in with the girls from my snobby, private school. I've also never got along with the women from work, when I tried to be a career girl, which is probably why I sucked at it. I have too much money to fit in with people like my nail technician. And far too little class to fit in with the other people who have the same kind of money as me.

When I was married to my minor royal, a little bit of his aristocratic Stardust landed on me and let me glitter for a while. I was superficially accepted into the kind of world he moved in. The minute we were divorced, and I took the blame, that shine wore off. Of course, I let some rumours of his affairs spread just to reaffirm his virility. However, every single thing that was leaked to the press was agreed between me and my ex-husband beforehand. I was bought and paid for. I said what he wanted me to, so that I could secure my financial stability for the rest of my life. Some people may see that as cold, but it isn’t as if I can rely on my family to look after me forever. I don't really have much on my resume other than my short time doing office work, so getting a well-paid job wouldn't be the easiest thing for me to do.

It’s one of the reasons I've been so pushy about getting it on the family business. I could be an asset to Nico. I see things in a different way to him, and despite the fact that we knock heads constantly, we do actually complement one another in many ways. The sad fact is, though, he will always see me as only a woman, and because of that as a lesser being.

I think back to when James, Nico’s right-hand man, suggested the handbag business to me. I suppose I cut off my nose to spite my face by rejecting that outright. It could actually be a viable business. It would have made me more money than my dabbling in the jewelry world. I didn't want to give them the satisfaction, though. The thought of taking the scraps they were throwing me from the table makes me want to puke. I want a seat at that damn table, not beg for the scraps off it. Still, the handbags would have complemented the jewelry I sell rather well.

“I can practically hear you thinking from here,” Matteo says. “What are you dwelling on?”

“I’m just thinking about how much I hate my family.”

“I don't think you really hate them,” he says. “You haven't cut them out of your life.”

“Oh, trust me, I do hate them.” I turn and rest my head on my hand against his chest, looking up at him. “You know what it's like with family, and it isn’t always easy to fully walk away. Just because I haven't cut them out of my life completely doesn't mean that I harbor sentimental feelings for them.”

“They say that blood is thicker than water,” Matteo replies. “I don't think that's wrong. It's one of those sayings which is based in an elemental truth.”

“And what's that truth?”

“That when push comes to shove, most of us will choose family over anything else. No matter how chaotic or unhappy it may be.”

“I disagree,” I argue. “I know plenty of people who wouldn't choose their family over their friends or their partners. If I was married, and it was a proper love match, then that person would be my person. They would take precedence over my family. There is no way that if I had a husband whom I loved that I would let my family come first. My first marriage, however, was nothing but an arrangement. I owed him no loyalty. I have few friends, and I don't even have a job at the moment, other than my online business, which I run entirely from home, so it’s lonely. I suppose you might say that I'm a coward. Maybe if I had other things in my life, then the idea of cutting my family out wouldn't be so difficult.”

“I always thought of you as a very self-reliant person.” Matteo moves so that I'm no longer laid on his chest, but we're facing one another on the bed, our heads next to each other. I want to look away from his dark gaze as it’s far too perceptive. If he sees the real me, he’ll see how hollow I truly am. “You always struck me as having this air of confidence about you.”

“I am confident in many ways.” I choose my words carefully. “However, that doesn't mean that I have the strength to walk away from my family, at a time when I don't have a lot else in my life. You might judge me for that, but you'd be a hypocrite if you did. After all, you're still entwined with your family, and they haven't always treated you the best way.”

“You're right, of course,” he says. “Anyway, that's enough with the landmines for tonight. How about we have a very late-night snack.”

Somewhat mystified about his comment about landmines, but not wanting to push things any further, I nod in agreement. The mention of food has made me realize just how ravenous I am.

“What sort of snack do you suggest?”

“How about a cup of tea and some toast?”

“How very British,” I say with a soft laugh.

“When in Rome,” he replies with a smirk.

“Tea and toast sound marvellous.”

---