Page 81 of Ruined By Protection
"I brought you some tea," she says, closing the door behind her with her hip. "Chamomile with honey."
The simple kindness makes my throat lump again. "Thank you."
I cradle the warm mug between my hands, staring down at the gold liquid as if it might hold answers. The grassy scent wafts up, soothing but not nearly enough to calm the storm inside me.
"What did he say?" I ask, not looking up. I don't need to specify who.
Lucrezia settles beside me on the bed, her weight shifting the mattress slightly. "He said he's staying until you're ready to talk to him."
A laugh escapes me, bitterly ironic. "Then he'll be waiting a very long time because I'm not going to be ready. Not ever." I take a sip of tea, wincing as it burns my tongue. "I don't want to be ready. Everything is over and the best solution is for him to stop pretending that he cares."
"You have every right to not want him around," Lucrezia says softly. "But he does care, Hazel."
I shake my head, feeling tears threatening again. "He doesn't. Not really."
Lucrezia watches me for a long moment. "What's happening between you two? I mean, I know there's something but..."
I set the mug on the nightstand before I spill it with my trembling hands. The words tumble out then, about Austin three years ago, the night we shared that I never forgot, how he pretended not to know me at the airport.
I pull the phone from my pocket and stare at the screen, still black now, but I know what lurks there. My stomach twists into knots just thinking about it.
"So you had a night together in Austin and now...?" Lucrezia prompts, her eyes fixed on my face.
I wrap my arms around myself, trying to hold it together. "And now I need to leave. I can't stay here with him. I just can't."
"But why?" She leans forward, her brow furrowed with concern. "What happened between last night and now?"
I shake my head, unwilling to share the photo. It's too humiliating and I don't want to drag Lucrezia into whatever this mess is between Matteo and the redhead. "It doesn't matter. This was all a mistake."
"A mistake?" Lucrezia's voice rises slightly. "Hazel, I've never seen Matteo look at anyone the way he looks at you. And I've seen him with plenty of women."
"That's part of the problem," I mutter, getting up to pace the room. The walls feel like they're closing in on me. "I can't do this again, Lucrezia. I can't be with someone who—" I stop myself before I say too much.
"Who what?" she presses.
I turn to face her, my resolve hardening. "Who isn't fully available to me. I just got out of a controlling relationship. The last thing I need is to jump into something equally complicated."
Lucrezia watches me for a long moment, her dark eyes thoughtful. "You know, sometimes I think destiny has a way of bringing people together at exactly the right time, even if it seems like the wrong time."
A harsh laugh escapes me. "Destiny? You think destiny brought me and Matteo together?"
"Three years ago in Austin, and now here?" She raises an eyebrow. "That's quite a coincidence, don't you think?"
I shake my head firmly. "No. That's not destiny. That's just... bad luck." The words taste bitter on my tongue.
"Bad luck?" Lucrezia looks genuinely shocked. "Hazel, you came to us needing protection and it turns out the man assigned to protect you is someone you already shared a connection with. Someone who understands you. Who makes you feel safe."
"He doesn't make me feel safe anymore," I whisper and I hate how my voice breaks.
Lucrezia stands up and takes my hands in hers. "Whatever happened between last night and this morning, I can see it's hurtyou. But I also know Matteo. He's not perfect—far from it—but he's not the kind of man who would intentionally hurt someone he cares about."
I pull my hands away. "That's just it. He doesn't care about me. Not really."
Matteo
I squeeze the trigger, feeling the familiar kickback against my palm as the bullet tears through the paper target. The sound echoes through the underground shooting range beneath the Feretti property but I barely register it. My mind is somewhere else entirely.
"Fuck," I mutter, ejecting the magazine and slamming in a new one.
