Page 58 of Phantom Mine

Two significant events happened that night, one because of the other. The stranger—Matteo—turned my head, distracted me,poisonedme with his mouth, his hands, his body, until I’d completely forgotten Adriana. She was kidnapped during that window and eventually murdered.

Because of me.

Because I was selfish and I put what I wanted above her.

Pressure constricts my lungs, trapping the air in my chest. It feels like someone just dropped an anvil on my sternum.

Matteo watches every emotion play out on my face, his hand dropping to clasp my waist. The warmth of his skin against my suddenly cold body sends a shiver through me.

“Finally you recognize me.” I don’t miss the faint note of relief in his voice. Bending his head, he runs his nose up the open line of my throat, demanding, “Tell me why you didn’t come to me that night.”

I barely hear him. I’m not here. My body may be beneath him, but I’m a year and a half into the past.

Adriana didn’t even want to go out that night.

I made her.

And then I left her.

Selfish. Selfish. Selfish.

The minute I hadn’t been able to find her, every thought of the Phantom had disappeared, as had the memory of his mouth and hands on my body. But it was only temporary, a biological byproduct of my activated fight or flight. When those memories and feelings started to come back, I did my best to suffocate them, to no avail.

I don’t deserve happiness, much less to allow myself to experience even one iota of a positive emotion when it comes to him. If I hadn’t met him, Adriana would likely still be alive.

The guilt, which had been suppressed beneath other, unexpectedly stronger, emotions these past couple of weeks comes roaring back to life with a vengeance.

I can’t fail Adriana a second time.

Surprise gives me the upper hand when I shove at Matteo’s chest. I see a flash of confusion in his eyes through the tears gathering in mine before he rolls off me. I’m on my feet and running for the exit before he can say anything. He reaches formy ankle but I’m too fast—his fingers graze my skin then close around nothing but air. He calls my name in that deep voice of his, but I don’t acknowledge it.

Amidst the emotional turmoil, a realization hits me.

Matteo was with me that night.

He couldn’t have been involved in Adri’s kidnapping.

An unnamed part of me could almost weep with relief.

Another, more sensible part, questions his current presence in London. He told me that night that he lived in Rome, that he was going back the following day.

So what is he still doing here? What is he doing in theFamiglia, working atFirenze, and living in the city?

Was it all a lie?

Chapter Sixteen

Matteo

There are hundred-year-old abstinent Roman monks who’ve dedicated their entire lives to the teachings of Christ who are less sexually frustrated than I am right now.

The need is crawling up my arms, stiffening my spine, tightening my balls, and generally ruining my otherwise good mood.

Ridiculous.

This whole situation is fuckingridiculous.

My jaw grinds together, sawing at the top layer of enamel on my teeth, as I think back to the way Valentina’s face fell when she realized who I was. Based on that one look, I think it’s safe to say she might actually have preferred the horrifically scarred Phantom of the Opera be revealed behind the mask instead of me.

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