Page 163 of When We Fall: Part One
“I wish it wasn’t.”
“Ah, you’re set to be his bride: Rosalie De Luca, queen of a thriving empire. You must be strong if you’re going to wear a crown. Are you strong?”
“No.”
He ran his fingertips lightly along my cheek over my bruises and swelling.
“Do not lie to me. We discussed this. A weak woman would not endure what you have. You are strong. Tell me.”
“I-I’m strong.”
“Do you believe it?”
I licked my lips.
“Tell me again, Rosalie Bishop. Tell me how strong you are.”
“I’m strong. I’m a survivor.”
His eyes sparkled. “Yes. Yes, you are, pretty little flower. You are truly… perfect.”
I had no idea where he was going with any of this, and I did not want to know. All I wanted was for Anson to come back and keep me safe.
“I cannot wait to see what you accomplish in life.” He paused for a moment. “You could have anything you wanted with your last name as De Santis.”
“Whatever I get in life will be because I earned it, not because I aligned myself with a name as a means to get ahead.”
He grinned at me. “I like you. A lot. Alessandro chose well.”
I stiffened as he leaned into me. His lips brushed against my cheek before he whispered in my ear.
“Do not disappoint me,bel fiore. I am going to give you the world. This is my vow to you.” He pulled away just as Anson returned to the room, holding a sandwich, a glass of juice, and a bottle of water.
“Father,” he greeted Matteo as Matteo stood. I could hear the tightness in Anson’s voice as he came to me and offered me the peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
I laughed softly as an image of Matteo in his pajamas popped into my head. In it, he was snacking on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It seemed odd for a man like him to keep in his home. I imagined him only eating gourmet meals prepared by the finest chef.
“What’s so funny?” Matteo asked.
“I was envisioning you eating a peanut butter and jelly,” I admitted, knowing if I lied, he’d give me the speech about liars and bad things happening to them when they did it under his roof. “You don’t seem like someone who would like such an innocent food.”
Matteo smirked at me. “Peanut butter and jelly is my favorite. Why do you think I have it in my home if not to enjoy it?”
“Really?” I asked. I glanced at Anson to see the frazzled look on his face.
“Truly,” he answered, smiling at me. “What is your favorite jam?”
I bit my bottom lip, my mind blown. I was conversing with one of the most dangerous men in the world.
“I like grape jam,” I said.
Matteo nodded, his eyes sparkling. He didn’t look like a cruel killer as he stared back at me, but I learned long ago not to judge a book by its cover.
“I also like grape. Strawberry is a close second. Sometimes, though, I do prefer peanut butter and honey.”
“I’ve never tried that.”
“You should. Perhaps Alessandro can make that for you next time. However, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches aren’t a meal. I’ll be sure to have something prepared for you this evening. Do you like Italian food?”
