Page 66 of Ruined By Protection
"We checked. No one matching his description. Could have been her imagination, or he slipped out."
I push past him into the gallery. The space is filled with New York's elite pretending to understand what they call art, champagne flutes in hand, designer clothes marking them as people who've never had to fight for anything in their lives.
I spot them immediately. Lucrezia's dark hair, Hazel's honey-blonde waves. They stand before a large black and white photograph, Lucrezia gesturing animatedly while Hazel nods. Even from here I can see the tension in her shoulders, the way her eyes dart around the room between glances at the picture.
She's scared. Looking for him.
I move toward them, observing her face. There's something about her expression that makes my chest tighten—a vulnerability mixed with determination. She's terrified but refusing to break.
As I get closer I decide to ease the tension. No need to scare her more.
"You know," I say, keeping my voice light as I approach, "I've never understood why people pay millions for pictures of other people's garbage."
Hazel jumps, spinning around with wide eyes before recognition hits. Relief washes over her face for a split second before her expression hardens again.
"Matteo," she greets me with a knowing smile. "I didn't expectyouto join our cultural expedition."
"Change of plans," I say, my eyes never leaving Hazel's face. She looks away, focusing intently on the photograph in front of her.
Lucrezia glances between us. "I think I'll check out the installation in the corner. Fabio can accompany me."
She walks away before either of us can object, leaving me alone with Hazel in the crowded gallery. The silence between us stretches, heavy with unspoken words.
"You can't ignore me forever, bella," I say quietly, stepping closer to her.
She keeps her eyes fixed on the photograph. "I'm not ignoring you. I'm appreciating art."
"That's a picture of a broken window in an abandoned building."
"It's about urban decay and the transient nature of man-made structures," she quotes, clearly repeating something Lucrezia told her. Sounds like Lucrezia's description of whatever she thinks she sees in these things.
I move to stand directly beside her. "Hazel."
She finally looks at me, eyes flashing. "What do you want, Matteo? I'm trying to keep my distance from someone who happens to have fucked me once. Is that so difficult to understand?"
The crude language sounds wrong coming from her lips, deliberately provocative. I lean in, close enough that only she can hear me.
"Four times, actually," I correct her, watching color flood her cheeks. "Once in the kitchen, once in the elevator—well there, I just ate your sweet pussy, then three times in my suite. And you came five times, if we're keeping score."
She turns away sharply but not before I catch the flare of heat in her eyes. "That's not?—"
"Not what? Not relevant? Not important?" I step around to face her again. "Then why are you blushing?"
"Because you're impossible," she hisses, clutching her purse tighter. "I'm married, Matteo."
"To a man who puts bruises on your body." My voice drops, all teasing gone. "A man who's in New York right now, looking for you."
The color drains from Hazel's face. "What?" she whispers, her voice barely audible over the pretentious chatter around us.
"Elliott's in New York," I say, keeping my voice low but clear. I didn't want to do this here, surrounded by Manhattan's elite sipping champagne and pretending to understand modern art, but she needs to know. I've never been one to sugarcoat things and I won't start now. Not with her safety at stake.
"How? How did he find me?" Her breathing quickens, eyes darting around the gallery like a cornered animal.
"I don't know yet. But we're not waiting around to find out."
Her hands start to tremble, the slight shaking quickly spreading through her entire body. Her eyes go distant, that same vacant look from the boutique starting to take over.
"Hazel." I catch her face between my hands, forcing her to look at me. Her skin is soft under my palms but I can feel the tension vibrating through her. "Look at me, bella. Right at me."
