Not when the reason felt so insignificant. Some women survived much worse. Some women dealt with the true trauma that came from horrific circumstances.
They were stronger than I was. Stronger than I would ever be.
So, when I woke up the next morning to the familiar press of his chest against my back and his leg draped over mine, I revolted against the feeling of comfort. Even with how angry I'd been yesterday, how broken I'd felt knowing he would completely disregard my wishes, I hadn't been strong enough to resist when he rolled me underneath him and made love to me.
At least that's what I would have called it, if Matteo was capable of love.
He wasn't. The day before had made that clearer than ever.
"It's time we talk about this," he grunted, pulling off me and rolling me to my back. My sleep camisole revealed more than it hid, and I brought my arms up to cover my silk covered breasts.
"Talk about what? That you've completely ignored what I want?"
"Ivory," he warned, and I blinked up at him with the most innocent expression I could muster.
"We're not doing this," I mumbled, rolling my eyes and moving to escape the bed.
Grabbing me around the waist, he shoved me down onto my back again, inserting himself between my legs and pinning my arms to the bed by my head when I struggled. "Whatever the fuck happened to you fucked you up. You thrash around in your sleep. You fucking beg for it to stop."
"Don't—" I warned, turning my head from side to side.
"I want to help you, and I can't do that if you don't tell me who to kill," he growled.
"Matteo—"
"Who, Ivory?"
"I don't know! Okay. I don't know who he is." My voice trailed off, unable to meet Matteo's gaze.
"Tell me what happened. Every time he bothers you at night, you bring another man into our bed." I turned furious eyes to him, finding him looking at me apologetically. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded. Our bed is ours. Just you and me, Ivory. Let me help you erase whoever he is."
"It's your bed, not ours," I snarled instead, determined to hold on to my anger over being moved in without permission.
"Are your clothes in the closet? Your toothbrush at the sink?" His face turned to stone as he spoke.
"Teo," I whispered.
"Am I inside you every night and wake up with you in my arms?"
"Teo, that's not—"
"Answer me, Angel."
I grimaced. "Yes."
"Then this is our bed. That will not change."
I sighed, finally relenting. I so did not want to have a discussion with Matteo about his lack of boundaries and his ability to lie. We both knew it was only a matter of time before he kicked me out of his home when he got bored. Maybe the reality of cracking me wide open would prove I wasn't worth all the intrigue he seemed to think I was. "You know that moment when you first fall asleep? Where you're still aware, but everything is fuzzy and warm. Little bits of reality filter through the fog, but most everything is lost."
He tensed above me, staring at the side of my face since I refused to look at him. "Yes," he whispered.
"That's the best way I can describe what being drugged felt like. It reminds me of how that felt and what happened, so when I hit that part of sleep, it makes me panic, but I'm just so used to it that I guess I don't wake up anymore," I admitted.
His forehead touched my temple, and from the corner of my eye I saw his eyes slide closed. "Drugged?" His voice was a hoarse whisper along my skin. I nodded. He couldn't possibly mean to make me discuss the gritty details. "What happened?"
The breath that rattled out of my chest was rough, filled with disbelief and fear. "I went to a club alone. Sadie hadn't turned twenty-one yet, and Duke just hated the whole club scene. One minute I was fine, drinking and dancing, enjoying myself. The next thing I knew I was stumbling and fuzzy. Someone caught me, said he'd find me a place to rest it off. I was too out of it to protest. I just didn't understand what was happening."
"Jesus. Fuck," Matteo groaned, his face contorting in pain.
"He didn't rape me. He didn't have a chance. He propped me up against one of the walls in a darker corner of the club and supported my weight. I was in and out of consciousness, but I know he moved my underwear aside. Touched me. Someone caught on to what he was doing and chased him off, she said he had his pants undone when he ran off, and I just fell to the floor. She and one of her friends who was a bartender set me up in a back room and saw me through it. I didn't want to involve the cops, not when I'd been so stupid, and they respected that."
"He touched you," Matteo growled. "Drugged you and planned to rape you."
"It wasn't that bad. It's silly. I just, that feeling of losing control over my body was the worst thing. I couldn't even fight him. People surrounded me, and I still had no way of making anyone know that I was in trouble. Falling asleep reminds me of that, and I know that's a ridiculous association. But it's never gone away," I explained with a shrug.
"What did he look like? What club?"
"It doesn't matter, Teo. It was a long time ago, and I remember nothing about him. Everything was blurry. I barely even remember what Verona or Evie looked like if I'm honest." That was one reason it would have been so stupid to involve the police. There was nothing to go on. Even Evie hadn't gotten a very good look at the guy, and it wasn't like a rape kit would have been productive. Just traumatizing.
I hadn't dated for over a year after that. Hadn't gone to my gynecologist. I'd only touched myself when necessary for hygiene.
"No one will ever touch you again," Matteo promised. I smiled at him sadly even though I believed him.
Matteo would let no one else touch me as long as I was his.
We'd been here before.
And one day soon, I'd have to relearn how to live life without him.
✽✽✽
Several times over the two days since Matteo had moved me in, he'd suggested I do my blog posts and such from the couch of his office. Apparently it was the purpose for it, but he also clarified that there may be meetings where I needed to vacate when he and Don or Lino or when one of the countless other guys who worked for him needed to have private conversations about the business.
I wasn't the type to be forced to move once I'd settled in for the more tedious back end stuff of my business. I hated doing it to begin with, so I wasn't about to move once I motivated myself to do it. Because of that, I'd neglected to join Matteo in his office while I worked, preferring to sit in the kitchen with Don for company. I was coming to associate Matteo's office with bad news anyway, between the day I stupidly strolled in there like I had any control and the day he told me he was moving me in.
I was happy to avoid the misfortune that happened in there, thanks.
So, when Lino finally emerged from the office after a long two-hour meeting, I barely looked up at him when he strolled into the kitchen. "He wants you," he said, and I assumed he was talking to Don. Matteo didn't summon me to his office regularly, as opposed to the other man who appeared to handle many matters for Matteo. "Ivory, sweetheart. Talking to you." There was a smile in Lino's voice, and my eyes darted up to meet his in shock. I closed my laptop slowly, smiling at Don.
"Will this bother you if I leave it for now?" I asked.
He glanced at it and shook his head. "No worries, Ms. Torres." I brushed my hands over the fabric of my easy sage dress as I stood and made my way down the hallway.
Foreboding crept down my spine as I walked down the hall, and I took deep breaths and tried to convince myself it was only because of what happened the last time Matteo called me to his office. I wasn't a child. Wasn't about to be reprimanded by the principal. This was a man I slept with every night. Yes, he was a man who admittedly did things I didn't approve of without concern for my thoughts, but he wouldn't hurt me.
Not so soon after the stab of betrayal of moving me out of my own home and trapping me in his estate.
Knocking on the door, I waited for the
familiar voice to summon me in before opening it. Matteo wasn't alone, a middle-aged man stood next to the desk. I walked in, smiling for him when he nodded.
"Ivory," Matteo said, standing and wrapping an arm around my waist. He pressed a chaste kiss to my cheek, turning his attention to the strange man. "This is my personal physician, Dr. Marchesi."
"Are you sick?" I asked him, and he chuckled at me. His eyes didn't meet mine, and that foreboding feeling slithered through me again. "What's going on?" My eyes turned to the corner when the doctors' eyes darted there. A massage table sat in the corner, and my brow furrowed. I didn't understand why a physician would give me a massage.
"He's here for you," Matteo said.
"But I'm not sick," I whispered.
"He's going to help me keep you safe. Just in case." Matteo's voice dropped to a whisper, and my eyes darted to the medical bag sitting on the coffee table where Matteo intended me to work.
"I don't understand."
The doctor pulled something from his bag. He held it between two gloved fingers, so small I could barely see it from across the room. "It's a microchip. Just a little tenderness for a day or so following insertion, much like a flu shot, then you won't feel a thing."
Horror dawned on me, and I backed up a step only to have Matteo tighten his arm around my waist and plaster me to his side. "No. No fucking way."
"Angel," Matteo whispered, and I turned wide eyes to him.
"You can't be serious! I'm not letting you put that thing in me!" Struggling against his grip, I shoved at him to let me go.
"You need to be still. We don't want to hurt you more than necessary," Matteo warned. My eyes returned to the doctor, watching as he loaded the chip into a syringe with a fat needle.
"No! Teo, please!" I begged, backing away. I couldn't explain the dramatic reaction, but in the face of being microchipped like a dog after being taken from my home, it was too much.
I felt trapped.
Trapped in a way I'd never been before, like I might never know freedom again.
"Lino!" Matteo yelled, and my panic increased. Matteo's grip tightened on me, and I thrashed in his arms as he hauled my back against his chest. Lino, Don, and Scar rushed into the room and made their way toward us.
"No!" Matteo maneuvered us to the massage table, letting Scar help guide him until my stomach pressed to the table gently.
Even manhandling me, they were gentle about it.
I screamed again, wincing when Lino pressed a hand to the back of my head and stroked it affectionately. "It will be alright," he murmured, pressing my face forward into the face cradle. His other hand pressed to my left shoulder, holding it down firmly. Matteo's hand took up residence on my right shoulder, and the other two men grabbed my legs and held me perfectly still. I felt my chest shaking with the force of my crying and wished I could stop, but I was so angry that there was no stopping the tears.
Another hand pressed against my back, and the sound of scissors snapping together reached my ears before my dress suddenly loosened around me slightly. "I recommend here," the doctor said, pressing a finger into the fleshy part to the right of my spine. "It makes it impossible for her to remove herself."
I mumbled against the pillow. What the hell did this guy think I was? A superspy?
I was never cutting anything out of my skin.
Good God.
"That works," Matteo grunted as I wiggled in their hold. "Get it done." The needle pressed to my skin, and I whimpered.
"Shhh, sweetheart," Lino comforted me, and I didn't miss the fact that it wasn't Matteo. He knew there was no forgiving this.
Especially not after our conversation the day before.
With a slow glide, the needle pressed in, dropped the microchip under my skin, and pulled back. A hand pressed something to the entry point, no doubt to stop the bleeding until the doctor taped a bandage to it. When the sound of latex gloves being removed from his hands caught my attention, the pressure at my legs and shoulders finally relented.
I didn't move.
"Get out," Matteo barked, and I heard footsteps as they all hurried to do just that. When the door closed, Matteo finally turned all that intensity on me again. "Angel," he whispered. His hands wrapped around me, pulling and rearranging me until I sat on the table. I still didn't look at him, seething behind my tears. He reached out a hand to cup my cheek, wincing when I flinched back from him.
"Don't touch me," I hissed.
"Ivory—"
"I'll never forgive you," I whispered, finally looking at him. I had to wonder why it had been necessary—why he'd needed to break whatever good we'd had in our fucked-up history.
"You don't have a choice," he murmured back, icy eyes staring into mine.
"That seems to be a common theme with you," I huffed a laugh. Guilt flashed across his features momentarily, before he wiped all expressions from his face. "You were right. I never should have come here. I was happier without you."
I stood, forcing my way around him. He didn't move, didn't follow.
But his roar of rage echoed behind me as I escaped. Glass shattered, and it sounded like something flipped. I emerged into the kitchen, snatching up my laptop and ignoring Donatello's apologies. I couldn't even meet his eyes as I fled the room.
I hurried to one of the guest rooms upstairs, locking myself in and collapsing onto the bed.
I couldn't even go home.
Twenty-Four
Ivory
Our interactions with each other had been fleeting for two days. I worked in the kitchen. He worked in his office. We ate dinner in silence. He went back to working while Donatello and I cleaned up.
Then I ran to the spare bedroom and locked myself in. Somehow, I woke up in his arms in his bed the following morning both days. How he maneuvered me there without waking me, I'll probably never know. As soon as I woke up, he wordlessly stood from the bed and got ready before burying himself in his office again.
I stood in the kitchen, staring at the ingredients set out in front of me and preparing myself for the experiment I was about to undertake when Matteo's yell echoed through the house.
"I don't fucking care what you do with it! Just get it out of here!"
I hesitated. His office was officially on my no-no list of places to go, but there was something so broken in his voice as he shouted, that my feet moved on their own accord. I rounded the corner, passing people who stared at me in horror.
My eyes landed on the doll as soon as I walked in the room.
The size of a child's doll, she almost looked like she could actually be a child's plaything.
If you only looked at her face.
And ignored the lace teddy that adorned her body.
My eyes darted to the scrap of red lace sitting next to her, an identical, life size match of what she wore.
"Ivory," Matteo whispered. "Go back to the kitchen, Angel."
I only spared him a moment's glance before it drew my eyes back down to the doll. Her sea-green eyes were vacant and empty, surrounded by ivory skin and perfectly layered chestnut hair. Freckles dotted her cheeks and nose, and it didn't take a genius to figure out exactly who she was supposed to look like.
Me.
"What is that?"
"Go, Ivory."
"Where did you get that?" I snapped, ignoring the sympathetic way he stared at me. I knew Matteo well enough to know when he was protecting me, and that expression on his face was answer enough about where the doll came from.
"Everyone get the fuck out," he grunted, and the office cleared instantly. The door closed behind them, and Matteo strode to me and caught me up in his grasp. "He won't touch you," he murmured, as if it would distract me from the missing doll. One of his security people had snatched it up as he fled the room, no doubt the one who messed up and brought it into the house.
"Teo," I whispered, feeling raw in the face of the way that doll made me skin crawl.
Hefting me up into his arms, I barely protested as Matteo car
ried me over to the couch and sat with me in his lap. I buried my face in his neck, breathing in the familiar scent there and letting it comfort me.
The thing about Matteo for me?
I couldn't be near him and not want him.
Ever.
It was why I kept my distance from him. I knew I had zero self-control where he was concerned and being pressed up against him—feeling him harden beneath me as I straddled his hips—only proved that the feeling was mutual.
Nothing should have been sexy in that moment. Not after being given a creepy doll and lingerie from a man I'd given no indication of interest.
But Matteo was a different story.
He always had been. I pulled out of his neck, crashing my lips to his in a torrent of need. His hands worked my dress up my hips as my hands went to the zipper of his trousers.
I wanted him.
I needed him.
And in that moment, I would not question it.
I needed the reminder I was alive.
Not just a thing to be used and discarded, but a real, live person with feelings and thoughts. I needed to exist, and Matteo was the greatest adrenaline rush I'd ever had.
I freed him from his pants stroking him as he shoved my panties to the side. Rising, I notched him at my entrance and slammed down onto him so hard he groaned. "Easy, Angel."
He knew as well as I did that taking him, even with foreplay, wasn't an easy feat. Taking him with no preparation after zero sex for two days was just plain foolish.
But I needed that pain, the feeling of being ripped open from the inside.
I needed my body to match what he did to my heart. To my soul.
I needed him to understand what he did to me, and I wasn't foolish enough to think I'd ever hurt Matteo the way he hurt me. He'd have to have a heart for that to be possible.
His hands at my hips tried to steady me, but I swatted him away and rocked my hips back and forth quickly. I knew my pace was frenzied. I knew I was acting like a crazy person as I used him, but I couldn't be bothered to care.
Bloodied Hands: A Dark Mafia Romance (Bellandi Crime Syndicate Book 1) Page 16