Page 46 of Brutal Vows

“No!”

Matteo sits back in his seat, chuckling. “You’re jealous. Admit it.”

“I am not. I’m just trying to understand you. That’s all.”

“Fine. Tell yourself whatever you need to. But I think you’re jealous.”

“And I don’t care what you think of me.”

“You don’t?”

“No!”

Matteo’s laugh starts to grate. “Ok, ok. Whatever you say.”

I shake my head. “If I asked you not to be with any more women, would you do it?”

He sobers up. “If you told me you wanted to be with me, I’d die a happy man. I haven’t wanted to sleep with anyone else since we got engaged. I only did it because you told me to do it.”

“And you’re so easily swayed?”

“Fine. I slept with Emma last night because I was angry.”

“At me?”

“No,” he says softly. “At myself. I hated that I scared you. I was so angry at myself for that. So I turned to Emma.”

“Did you want to hurt me?”

He sighs deeply. “Maybe? In a way. I wanted to push you away like you did to me. The minute Emma and I were done, I regretted it. I should never have done that.”

I shrug, ducking my head. “It’s ok. I told you that you could … do that.”

“Maybe we should change the topic?”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”

We’re both quiet for a moment.

Then Matteo asks, “How did you get into dance?”

“My mom. She wanted me to learn and put me into classes when I was two. I was still wobbly on my legs at times. I think she wanted me to get stronger.”

“And did you?”

“I’m still dancing to this day, so I’d say yes. When she died …” I pause, collecting myself. The memory of my mom still hits me. I wish I had her here for guidance. Matteo reaches over and hovers his hand over mine. I don’t move. He takes that next step and rests his hand on top of mine, giving me the strength to talkabout her. “When she died,” I try again, “it was an incredibly hard time. My dad died at the same time. Serafina and I were only eight. It was tough to grow up without them. At the time, I was tempted to stop dancing. It was the one thing my mom and I shared that no one else did. Serafina was never into it like I was. And when our mom died, I wanted to stop dancing, to rebel against the thing that constantly reminded me of her. But I knew she’d be disappointed if I stopped. So, I continued to dance, and I’m so glad I never stopped. It’s like she’s beside me every time I dance, helping guide me.” A tear slips out of the corner of my eye. “I’ll always have that.”

Matteo smiles, a softness in his eyes. “I’m glad you have that. I never knew my parents.”

“No?” I wipe away the tear. I notice that Matteo keeps his hand on top of mine.

“I was raised in foster care. I have one memory of my mom from when I was a kid. She was sitting next to me. We were at a park. I remember her looking sad, dejected. I kept asking her to play with me, but she wouldn’t. Soon after that, I never saw her again. The next thing I knew, I was being placed with different families. I’d act out, and they’d send me to another family, who’d send me to another family, and on and on. I was trouble, to say the least.”

“Yeah, I got that from earlier,” I tease.

His lips quirk. “Yeah, I had trouble in my bones from an early age. After a while. I got used to being on my own. Even though I was placed in different foster homes, they never felt like home, you know? I kept to myself when I wasn’t causing trouble. Then, when I turned eighteen, I joined the club. That’s the only home I’ve ever had.”

“That’s why you protect your men so much, isn’t it?”

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