Page 34 of Let Vengeance Be Mine

“What?!” I feel my blood start to boil.

“I’ve tried but haven’t heard anything. I figure–”

“And you didn’t think to give me the heads up on this?” I snap back at him, heading for the cabinet so I can pour myself something strong.

“You’ve been occupied, I’ll remind you of the six-man rampage you insisted on doing all by yourself. I’ve never seen you like this, Matteo. I’m worried about you.”

“Worried about me?” I laugh at him.

“I don’t need you to worry aboutme, Demitri. I want you to worry about the safety of the woman who’s carrying my child. If you’d have told me about your contact going MIA we could have predicted this. Now, I’m scratching around like a fucking mouse, running from my old goddamn city to an island I fucking detest!” I knock back my drink and take a seat behind my desk, my hand shaking as I stroke it over my mouth. I didn’t mean to shout the way I just did, there's every chance Aria could have heard me and I don’t want that.

“I’m sorry, Matteo,” Demitri steps forward, looking guilty.

“It’s not your fault, you can’t say you didn’t warn me this was a bad idea.” I only have myself to blame for all this. Taking herwasa bad idea, but watching her become even more beautiful, as her stomach swells with my child, makes it impossible for me to regret it.

“Leave with your girl, take a break on the island. Who knows, maybe she can help you find some beauty in it?” I look up at him doubtfully, and he smiles me a sad smile that confirms he knows, as well as I do, that I could never find beauty in that place.

“I will take care of everything, here. Like I said, I have eyes on Fucchini. Have the girl call him in a few days to give one of her updates and see what his reaction suggests.”

“You're a good friend, Demitri.” I let him know, before finishing the last of my drink and pulling myself together before I go to find her.

ARIA

Something is troubling Matteo. I can tell by the way he keeps smiling at me. It’s not like him, and it’s not convincing at all. I take the sparkling water from the stewardess on his private jet and smile at her awkwardly while Matteo fixes the safety belt across my lap like I’m a child.

“I am capable of doing that myself you know,” I remind him.

“I know, but if I do it, I can be assured that it’s safe. He presses a kiss on my cheek and taps my tummy before looking up at the stewardess.

“That will be all,” he dismisses her, taking my hand in his and looking out of the tiny window beside me.

“You never mentioned having a jet, or an island.” I try to strike up a conversation in the hope that it might ease his tension,

“I don’t visit it often.” His lip curls like he has a nasty taste in his mouth.

“My father has an island too…but you already knew that, huh?” I look out the same window and inwardly curse myself when I realize I’m not helping the situation at all.

“Your father doesn’t own his island, he just has access to it. Harold Fredimen owns the island my men took you from. He allows friends and people, who keep him rich, to use it as a perk,” he corrects me.

“But, you own this island we’re going to, right?” I check.

“My family has owned this island for decades.”

“Then I can’t wait to see it.” I smile brightly, determined to lift his mood before we arrive.

I don’t know how long we are in the air, I fell asleep not long after we took off, but when we do eventually get off the plane, the humidity hits me like a brick wall. I feel a little dizzy and shaky on my legs, as Matteo helps me down the steps and walks me toward the open-topped Jeep that's waiting for us. The runway is so tiny and surrounded by tropical forest that I’m surprised the pilot located it, and when I get into the passenger seat of the Jeep, I smile at Matteo and let him lean across me to pull my belt over my shoulder to buckle me in. As suffocating as he can be, it feels nice to have someone take care of me the way he does. He doesn’t speak as he drives us over the bumpy track that leads through the trees, except to apologize for the roughness of the journey when I take a firm grip on the Jeep’s roll bar.

Thankfully, we’re only driving for a short time before we come to a clearing, and the uncomfortable journey becomes worth it when I see the white sandy beach and clear blue ocean in front of me.

“Home sweet home,” Matteo utters under his breath, not sounding very enthusiastic, as he parks beside the luxury beach hut that looks out on the postcard-perfect view.

“Matteo, this place is beautiful.” I unstrap myself and take his hand when he rounds the hood to help me out. The cove we’re in is only small, but the mountains enclosing us are tall and luscious green from the trees that grow on them.

“Mr Romano.” A female voice comes from the house, and when a short, older woman comes rushing toward us, I wonder where I recognise her from.

She greets Matteo with a warm hug that isn’t reciprocated, then moves on to me, squeezing me tight, before holding me out in her arms and looking me over.

“Anita said you were pretty but you are quite beyond that.” Her age-worn hand strokes my cheek.

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