Page 238 of Merciless Desires

Chapter Ten

MARCELLA

I hadn’t seen Matteo in days. Nearly an entire week had gone by without us even crossing paths. When I would sneak out of my room to get a drink or look around the home, he was nowhere to be found.

On Saturday, I could hear his booming voice through the black double doors next to the dining room. Those doors were always closed. And guarded.

His associates watched me carefully as I moved through the foyer to the kitchen, standing so still they resembled statues with eyes that followed you. It made me uncomfortable, but then again, almost everything about this entire situation made me uncomfortable.

Silvia stood in the kitchen, stirring her delicious marinara that I could smell from the hallway upstairs. I stopped, staring at the woman who was supposed to be at my house, not Matteo’s.

“Cara!” Silvia called, crossing the space to pull me into a hug. “I have missed you.”

“What are you doing here?”

She held me at arm’s length and checked over every visible part of my body. For bruises, I suspected.

“This is where I work now. I will miss your sisters…but I still have my Marcella.”

As happy as I was to see her, I was equally as pissed.

“That’s great,” I said slowly, testing my words on my tongue.

My tone still made Silvia frown, but she brushed it off and returned to her sauce, mumbling in Italian about not wanting to ruin it.

I thought about telling her I would be back, but decided against it and spun away, toward those goddamn guarded doors.

“Move,” I commanded as I neared, glaring up at the two morons who had stepped in front of either door.

I expected more kickback from them, but they shared a glance and got out of my way, opening the doors. Not fast enough.

I shoved them open, trying not to grin when they slammed against the walls on either side. I was pissed. I needed him to see that I was pissed.

“Let me call you back,” Matteo said slowly, each word more menacing than the last. He was glaring at me, and I glared right back. “Yes, amorina?”

“Why the hell is Silvia in your stupid kitchen right now?” I pointed in the direction of the kitchen, my entire arm shaking with what I hoped was anger, but I knew was fear.

Matteo rose from his seat and rounded his desk. The motion was calculated, tedious, and only set me even further on edge.

“She is your family, sì?” He stopped in front of me, far closer than he needed to be, and placed two fingers on my shoulder. “How else am I going to get you to eat, amorina?”

Slowly, his fingers glazed across my skin, to my elbow, and then wrist, where he gently pushed down until my hand was back at my side. His grip shifted, a more commanding hold against my back that drew me flush to him.

“You must eat, and I am too busy to cook for you.”

Matteo held me so tight against him I could barely breathe. His glare had softened, and he was now inspecting my face, as if trying to memorize the details.

“She is supposed to be at home.”

His right brow ticked up. “This is your home, amorina.”

Ugh.

“Her home.” My home. “With my family.”

He reached for my other hand and lifted it, pressing my finger against his chest beyond his button-down that was splayed open at the top. “I am your family.”

Matteo hooked my finger below the second button, pushing until it popped open. I stared at the inked skin below, entirely mesmerized, unable to stop him as he unhooked the next button.

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