Page 65 of His Savage Ruin
The evidence is gone, but the threat remains.
I splash cold water on my face, trying to shock some clarity back into my head. When I straighten up, my mascara's smudged and my lipstick's faded. I look like someone who's barely holding it together.
Which is exactly how I feel.
I grip the sink again, forcing steel into my spine. Whoever sent this wants me scared. Wants me vulnerable. I won't give them the satisfaction.
When I finally push back into the corridor, it feels off. Shadows twist into shapes that don't belong here, and my skin prickles with awareness.
Then I see a figure detach from the wall, and of course it's that damned Marco. God, I feel like he's everywhere I turn.
He positions himself directly in front of me like a barricade, all folded arms and stone expression, but I keep my face neutral and don't let him see the unease crawling up my spine.
"You've been gone too long."
His voice is flat and controlled but I can hear the anger underneath it, simmering just below the surface.
I force my chin up even though every instinct is screaming at me to just walk away. "I didn't realize I needed permission to use the restroom."
Marco's nostrils flare and I can tell he doesn't like my tone. Good. I'm tired of pretending to be meek around men who think they can intimidate me just by existing.
"You think you're clever. Sitting at his table like you belong there. Winning hand after hand, making him look weak in front of his men."
And there it is, the real reason he's cornering me in this hallway. He's not angry because I played cards, he's angry because I won. Because I refused to just sit there and look pretty and let the men handle the important business of gambling.
"Maybe he looked weak because he is weaker than me in cards," I say, and even as the words leave my mouth, I know I'm pushing too hard, being too reckless, but I can't seem to stop myself.
Marco's jaw clenches so hard I can see the muscle jumping beneath his skin. He takes one step closer, close enough that I can smell coffee and cigarettes on his breath, and I have to force myself not to step back because that would be admitting he's getting to me.
"Since you arrived, nothing's been the same. Romeo lost a finger because of you. The men are restless, watching their backs, wondering who's next. And Matteo..." He says the name with so much venom that it actually makes me flinch. "Matteo has lost his edge. He's making stupid decisions, letting a woman embarrass him publicly, acting like you're something special when you're just another?—"
Fury rises hot and reckless in my chest, burning away the fear that was there a second ago. How dare he. How dare he act like I'm the problem when all I did was survive, when all I did was try to carve out some tiny space for myself in this violent world.
"You think I made himsoft?" I take a step closer instead of backing away, and my heels click sharp against the marble. "Maybe this family needed someone to shake things up. Maybe you're all so used to blind obedience that you can't handle someone who actually thinks for themselves."
Marco's eyes go dark and dangerous. "You're causing problems. You're untrustworthy. And I'm watching every move you make."
A laugh bubbles up from my chest, bitter and sharp. "Isn't that already your job? Following me around, making sure I don't step out of line, reporting back to Matteo about everything I do?"
Marco's hand moves toward his belt, fingers twitching for his weapon, and my heart stops. For one horrible second, I actually think he's going to draw on me right here, right now, in Matteo's own casino. I think he's going to put a bullet in me just to prove whatever point he's trying to make about me being dangerous.
Then footsteps echo down the hall, sharp and purposeful, and Marco's hand drops away from his weapon. His face goes blank so fast it's almost scary, all that hatred and anger disappearing behind a mask of professional coldness like it was never there at all.
But I saw it. I know what's underneath that mask now.
I turn around and my breath catches when I see Matteo walking toward us down the corridor. The casino lights behind him make it hard to see his face clearly but I don't need to see it to know he's angry. I can tell from the way he's moving, from the tension in his shoulders, from the way his hands are already curling into fists.
He sees us standing too close together. He sees my chin still lifted in defiance even though my hands are shaking. He sees the tension hanging heavy in the air between me and Marco.
And from the look on his face, Marco's about to bleed for it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Matteo
I close the distance in four long strides. My hand shoots out and fists in his collar before his brain can catch up to what's happening. The fabric bunches in my grip and I use the leverage to slam him backward into the wall so hard the impact sends a painting nearby rattling in its frame and,Dio mio, that feels good.
"You threatening her?"My voice comes out low and dangerous."In my fucking casino?"
