Page 114 of Ruined By Protection
She's quiet for a long moment, her face a battlefield of emotions. I can see her weighing her options, calculating the risks. Finally, she looks up at me.
"When? When do I need to do this?"
I stand up and pace the room, my mind already mapping out the logistics. This needs to be impeccable—Montgomery mustn't suspect any tricks.
"Not yet," I tell her. "I need to arrange everything first. Make sure all the pieces are in place."
Hazel
I watch Matteo circle the room, his shoulders solid as he plans the deception. There's something powerful about him in these moments—the way his mind works, how he calculates every possibility. It's so different from Elliott's viperish manipulation.
As Matteo continues planning, a question that's been lingering in my mind surfaces. I've been wondering about him—about how someone so protective and caring ended up in this dangerous world.
"Matteo," I interrupt his pacing softly. "Can I ask you something?"
He sits back down on the bed, immediately giving me his full attention. "Anything."
I hesitate, nervous of prying too deeply but needing to understand. "How did you end up here? The Feretti family, I mean. This life."
Something flickers across his face—a shadow of old pain. For a moment I think he might brush me off but then he sighs, running a hand through his dark hair.
"My mother died when I was twelve," he says, the unexpressed grief evident. "Cancer. Left my dad to raise me and my sister Lucia alone."
"I'm sorry," I whisper, reaching for his hand. He takes it, his thumb brushing over my knuckles.
"My dad was a gardener for rich clients in Brooklyn. Worked himself to the bone but we were only ever just scraping by." A hint of bitterness creeps into his voice. "Watching him come home exhausted every night, hands cracked and bleeding, and still not having enough for us..."
He shakes his head, eyes distant with memory.
"By fourteen I was running hustles in the neighborhood. Small stuff at first—selling cigarettes, running numbers for local bookies. By sixteen I had a decent little operation going."
"Weren't you scared?" I ask.
A smile touches his lips. "Terrified. But hunger's a powerful motivator." His expression turns serious again. "That was when Damiano found me."
"What happened?"
"I tried to run a scam on one of his businesses without knowing it was his. Instead of having me eliminated he called me in for a meeting." Matteo's voice holds a note of respect. "Said I had talent and I was wasting it on small-time jobs. Offered me work."
"What kind of work?"
"Started as a runner, delivering messages, picking up packages. Nothing too serious at first." He shrugs. "But he paid well. For the first time there was food in our fridge that didn't come from the discount shelf. Dad could cut back his hours."
"And your father? What did he think about where the money was coming from?"
Matteo's expression darkens. "He knew but we never talked about it. I think he was just relieved to see Lucia not starving instead of hand-me-downs."
I squeeze his hand gently, encouraging him to continue.
"When I was eighteen some guys jumped my dad on his way home from work. Beat him badly, took the little money he had." Matteo's jaw grips. "Turned out they were connected to a family that was pushing into Damiano's territory."
"What did you do?"
His eyes meet mine, unflinching. "I went to Damiano. He took care of it. Neutralized the guys who hurt my dad, moved us to a better apartment in a safer neighborhood. Gave my dad a job managing the grounds here at the estate—easier work, better pay."
"He gave your family safety," I murmur as understanding dawns.
Matteo nods. "After that I was his completely. Loyalty for loyalty."
