Page 22 of Let Vengeance Be Mine

“I have an app on my phone.” Matteo kisses my cheek before standing back up and lifting his suit jacket from the end of the bed.

“You shouldn’t get your hopes up. Women are late on their periods all the time. I’ve never really kept track of mine.” I shrug, starting to feel a little pressured. I know how disappointed Matteo was last month when I came on my period, he didn’t speak, touch or look at me for five days. I don’t know how I’ll cope if he does that to me, again. Which is a sure sign that I’m in serious need of therapy.

“What’s that look for?” Matteo watches me through the reflection of the mirror, as he straightens up his jacket and checks himself over.

“I’m just thinking about what happened last month. You put me back in the basement.” I wait for his reaction. Something tells me no one has ever made Matteo Romano face up to his behavior, before.

He looks pissed, and I can’t figure out if it’s at me or at himself.

“Come here.” He turns around and summons me to him with his finger. His eyes drop to the spot on the floor where he wants me, and like a desperate little moth to the flame, I climb out of bed and go to him.

“That’s not going to happen again.” He has a deadly, serious look on his face, one that makes me believe him.

“Is that your version of an apology?” I smile, taking the lapels of his jacket in both my hands. It’s unhealthy for me to miss him before he’s even gone. But I do. If I had my way he would never leave.

“No, it’s reassurance. I never apologize.” He keeps that serious look on his face and when I slide my hands up his chest and wrap them around his neck, he lowers his head so his forehead presses into mine.

“I’ll pick us up a test while I’m out,” he whispers.

“Maybe, we should wait a few days. Like I said, it’s normal to be a little late.”

“Patience isn’t my strong point.” He places a kiss on my lips before pulling away.

“Where are you going, today?” I ask as he makes his way toward the door.

“I have business to take care of,” The smile he gives me confirms he isn’t going to give me any more information than that.

“And what time will you be home?” I check, following him to the door and placing my hand over his.

“Needy today, aren’t we?” He has a smug smirk on his face that suggests he likes it and, as attractive as it is, it makes me want to punch him.

“I just get lonely when you're not around,” I admit, avoiding eye contact and feeling ridiculous.

“It won’t be like this, forever.” He lifts my chin with the crook of his finger and almost looks like he feels sorry for me. I feel sorry for me too, especially when I realize that I’ve forgotten how it is to be outside of his fortress. For almost two months the only people I have seen are Matteo and his guards.

“You know I would never run from you, don’t you?” I assure him, meaning every word. Whatever this is, no matter how fucked-up it is, I would never want my life to go back to how it was.

“Doesn't mean I’m prepared to risk it.” Matteo kisses my forehead before he leaves.

* * *

I went back to bed and took a nap after Matteo left. When I wake up and look at the time, I’m surprised to see that it’s already past noon. Lately, I’ve been feeling exhausted. I’ve put it down to the fact Matteo can’t go a few hours without being inside me, but this is a different level of tiredness. One that could have me going back to sleep again, if I let myself. I get out of bed and head for the shower so I can freshen myself up. And when I flick through the wardrobe of clothes, that Matteo has supplied me with over the past few weeks, I pick out something comfortable and head into the kitchen to find myself something to eat. The house seems empty, even the housekeeper, who is always kind to me, doesn’t seem to be around. As soon as I open the refrigerator, the smell inside it makes me turn up my nose. There’s nothing in here that's off, from what I can see, but there's also nothing I could stomach eating. Closing the door, I take an orange from the fruit bowl instead. I’m heading into the living room, to see what's on T.V., when my feet stop in their tracks and I find myself staring at the middle-aged woman who’s standing in the hall. She’s well presented, with eyes I recognize, and long, dark-black hair that she has pinned up neatly in a French pleat.

“Hello.” She looks just as surprised to see me as I am her, and as she steps forward her eyes scan me cautiously.

“Hey.” I tug at the sweater I’m wearing, feeling nervous and a little overwhelmed by her presence.

“And, you are?” She widens her eyes, expecting an answer.

“Aria,” I answer her before I have a chance to think about whether I’m supposed to or not.

“Aria.” She repeats my name and nods her head as if she approves, “And do you know where my son is, Aria?”

“Matteo?” Strange as it sounds, I never took into consideration the fact he would have a mother.

“Yes. Matteo.” She stares at me, impatiently.

“He…um. He left earlier this morning. I don’t know when he will be back. I don’t think he was expecting you.” I smile nervously.

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