Blood Always

by Ramsower, Jill

  I snuck to the edge of the hallway out of sight and listened.

  “I miss you, too.”

  The words resonated like the clang of a gong inside my head. Had it just been an hour before that I’d been thinking about trusting this man? Sure, I didn’t think he’d hurt me physically, but that didn’t mean he was a good man or that I knew anything about him. I silenced my racing thoughts as he spoke again.

  “I promise I’ll try to get away and see you soon … love you too, beautiful.” He released a heavy sigh, then began to rummage through the refrigerator.

  Can a heart break before it was ever in love?

  If it was possible, mine did in that moment.

  The back of my throat burned with unshed tears, stoking a fiery rage in my belly. How dare my heart begin to fall for Matteo without my permission. How dare he toy with me as if I wouldn’t figure it out. My anger was corrosive and ugly, desperate to destroy everything in its path.

  I needed to get out. I needed Tamir and the gym.

  I hurried back to the bedroom and grabbed my purse, texting a quick message to Tamir, then slipped on sandals and threw together a bag of workout clothes. When I marched back into the kitchen, Matteo sat at the counter in shorts and a sweat-soaked t-shirt, eating a banana and granola.

  “I’m heading out. I need to get back to the city,” I announced brusquely. “I haven’t had a chance to bring my car out here—do you have a car I can borrow, or should I call a cab?”

  His eyes narrowed, studying the impenetrable mask I wore. “I’ll take you. We can stay at my apartment and have dinner with my family on Wednesday.”

  Fuck. He wasn’t supposed to come with me. I needed space from him so I could think. “I have a Krav Maga session this afternoon and work, so I don’t know how much time I’ll have to spend with you.”

  “There’s the car ride, and I’m sure you can find time for dinner.” His statement was more order than question. It made me want to hiss and claw at him.

  “Fine, but I need to get going. Can you be ready in the next thirty minutes?”

  “Not a problem.”

  I lifted my chin and returned to the bedroom to pack a more substantial bag and put on a cloak of indifference until I could fight the anger out of my system.

  ***

  “He’s lying about something—I know it.” I accented my words with a strike into the pads Tamir wore. Sometimes we sparred, and sometimes we worked on technique and stamina, holding pads for one another. We’d been practicing for close to two hours. It had taken the first hour just to burn through some of my temper. The next half hour was spent updating him on my wedding and all that I’d learned since then.

  Both my workout and my unburdening had been exhausting. I was still throwing punches, but they were pathetic at best.

  Tamir lowered the pads, nodding toward our water bottles. “Let’s have a seat. You’ve had enough for one day.”

  My arms hung heavy at my sides as I nodded. The cool water tasted like fucking ambrosia. I swallowed greedily, knowing I’d upset my stomach if I didn’t slow down, but chugging more anyway. It was amazing what a good workout could do. I didn’t have any answers, but my problems no longer suffocated me.

  “Do you feel safe with this man?” Tamir asked quietly, watching me with dark eyes that saw far more than the average man could see.

  “I don’t feel unsafe, necessarily. I just don’t know what to think or feel. He’s got me off at that house far away from the city, and I know he’s keeping secrets. There’s a woman somewhere, but I don’t know for sure what she means to him. His boss supposedly lives in the house, but there’s no way anyone’s been up there for months. None of it makes any sense.”

  Tamir was quiet for a long minute as I studied the floor. “If you need me to, I will unearth his secrets. All you need to do is say the word.”

  My gaze lifted to his. There was a black promise of death lurking in those shadows. Since moving to America, he had stayed off the grid. He didn’t pay taxes, have a legitimate job, or a government-issued ID. He didn’t socialize or let loose in any way I could discern. From what I had gleaned, he had intentionally removed himself from his Israeli ties and had no desire to go back. He had still had plenty of good years left in him when he left, so I had always wondered at what had happened. I wasn’t going to ask because I knew he’d never tell me.

  I could only imagine that helping me would require reconnecting with the life he’d left behind. Was I willing to ask that of him? Surely my pathetic marriage wasn’t worth compromising the life he’d created for himself. Not only that, but a part of me wanted Matteo to tell me himself what the hell was going on. I didn’t want to find out from someone else—I wanted him to trust me with the information.

  “I appreciate your offer, but I’ll pass for now. Except, there is one thing.” I got up and jogged to where I’d left my purse, pulling out the photograph and returning to Tamir. “Is there any way you can find out who this woman is? I don’t want you to do it if it means compromising yourself, but if it’s relatively simple, then I’d like to know.”

  He smirked, a hint of humor flashing in his eyes. “This, I can do.”

  Chapter 14

  Matteo

  I couldn’t fathom how we’d gone from unbridled fucking and intimate confessions the night before to the taciturn setting of a hostile business takeover at dinner. It was as if the prior twenty-four hours had never existed. Maria was aloof and broadcasting an air of indifference so loudly, my head had begun to throb.

  Each minute that ticked by wound my temper tighter, like the cogs of one of my antique watches. By the time we returned to the apartment, I was itching for a fight. I’d succeeded holding it in until we were in private, but once we crossed the threshold of my apartment, all bets were off.

  I stretched my neck as I set down my jacket, going straight for the wine fridge and a bottle of cabernet. “Is there a reason you have unleashed Her Royal Bitchiness or are you simply bipolar? Because if that’s the case, there are medications for that.”

  Her clacking footsteps stalled against the marble floor. She didn’t turn immediately, and I knew my strike had hit home. When her head slowly swiveled toward me, her eyes positively glowed with outrage.

  Bingo.

  If it was a fight I wanted, it was a fight I would get.

  “Did I fail to entertain? Tell me, De Luca, what exactly have you put into this little relationship of ours that makes you feel entitled to anything from me? We fucked, that’s it.”

  My anger mutated into something grotesque. Something ancient and primal with shiny, black scales and a thirst for blood. “And I suppose holding your shaking body in the night meant nothing. Sharing with you the painful truth of my past was something you think I offer to everyone?” My voice was menacing, barely controlled fury.

  A callous, humorless laugh tumbled from her lips. “Your truth? That’s a joke. You think your mother’s death was something I couldn’t have dug up in an old news story? You’ve fucked me, and you’ve held me, but the one thing you haven’t done is tell me the truth.”

  Ten feet of space divided us, but it might as well have been a cosmic lightyear. I could walk those ten steps, close the physical distance between us, but we’d still be just as far removed in every other sense.

  “I can’t disclose anything about the family, you know that.”

  “I’m not talking about the family!” she shot back.

  “Then what?” I yelled, raising my arms in surrender. “What the fuck do you want from me?”

  Her spine visibly stiffened, and the air around her glittered with frost crystals. “I told you I wanted the truth. You promised there was no one else. I found the letters in your nightstand. I heard your phone conversation yesterday morning. I never intended for this relationship to be anything other than the business transaction it was meant to be, but I refuse to be made a fool of. If there’s a woman in your life, fucking grow some balls and tell me.”

&nbs
p; Fuck me. Now it made sense.

  My hand raked through my hair. I placed the bottle of wine back in the fridge and instead poured myself a glass of scotch. With my drink in hand, I retrieved my jacket and made for the bedroom. “It looks like you have nothing to worry about. I was on the phone with my six-year-old niece, and the woman who wrote those letters is dead.”

  She wanted truth, then she could have it. I unloaded what she’d asked for in a heap at her feet and continued on to our room without another word.

  I closed myself in the bathroom but didn’t lock the door. She wouldn’t intrude. Maria wasn’t the type of woman to go running after anyone in apology. That was fine. After a mentally exhausting day, I wasn’t in the mood for any more talking. Turning on the shower, I stripped down and forced myself to stand under the scalding spray of water.

  Ten minutes ago, I’d been pissed at Maria to the point of saying a lot of ugly things I would have regretted. Now? All my frustration was inwardly directed. Why the fuck had I even kept those letters? Sure, they had meant something, but that was irrelevant now. They wouldn’t bring her back, and my life had continued on without her.

  I’d have to be smarter from now on. Maria was keenly intelligent and frighteningly observant. She was bound to figure out the things I left unsaid and ferret out any secrets she got wind of. That gave me two options: prepare for the wrath of the Ice Queen or simply tell her the truth from the beginning.

  I wasn’t sure I liked either of those options.

  After I mulled over my predicament for a good half hour, I turned off the water and toweled dry, then put on some boxer briefs and prepared for bed. When I opened the door to our bedroom, the lights were off, and Maria was curled on her side asleep.

  My hand hovered over the bathroom light switch as I admired her striking features, soft in sleep. She was so much more than I ever could have anticipated—so much so that she was fucking with my head. I had thought she’d be an entertaining challenge, but it had turned into so much more. A knotted ball of yarn where lust and emotions were tangled together so thoroughly, I couldn’t figure out how to uncoil the two.

  Loving my wife hadn’t been in the plans, but something told me I had little say in the matter.

  Chapter 15

  Maria

  For the next three days, I juggled words in my head countless times, unsure what to say. Matteo and I didn’t argue again, nor did we apologize. We were cordial—respectful even—but in a distant manner. Like two diplomats cautious about overstepping their bounds on foreign soil.

  How could I string together the proper words when I wasn’t even sure how I felt? I wasn’t embarrassed. Anyone with a half a brain would have come to the same conclusion I had, given the same set of facts. There had been another woman. I just hadn’t guessed that she was dead.

  I thought I’d be relieved to know he wasn’t sneaking in visits with his lover, but there was little satisfaction in knowing I’d constantly live in the shadow of someone he had loved and lost. I was competitive by nature, so being Matteo’s second-string wife was upsetting. But that wasn’t why I’d withdrawn inward in the days that followed his confession. That had more to do with me coming to terms with the fact that I wanted to be the woman in the letters. I wanted his kind words and devotion. I wanted his sole attention.

  I wanted him to want me for more than just my connections and my body.

  It had been a lot to process.

  I allowed the information to settle against my skin and slowly sink in, absorbing into the fiber of my being. The concept of longing was foreign to me. I rolled it around my tongue, testing its sweet spice, before taking a deep breath and swallowing the truth.

  I wanted Matteo De Luca.

  Something so simple as desire came to other women as easily as breathing, but it was a first for me. I used men. I enjoyed the pleasure they brought me, took advantage of whatever they might have to offer, and sent them on their way without a second glance. I’d never wanted a man before. Never experienced a soul-deep yearning. It was unsettling and comforting at the same time.

  It made me think that maybe, just maybe, I could be normal. I could have a quasi-normal relationship—as normal as two killers in an arranged marriage could expect to have.

  I was willing to give it a try, but how would Matteo feel? I’d never had to worry about what someone else might think, except when assessing scenarios in a strategic business situation. That was different. Predicting someone’s actions wasn’t the same as forecasting an emotional response. The variables were endless.

  All I could do was learn what I could and attempt to be true to my own feelings.

  One of those was far easier than the other.

  Tamir reached out just a day after I’d given him the woman’s picture. Her name was Laura Wilkerson. She had lived in the Hamptons and worked in a boutique coffee shop not far from Matteo’s house. Tamir didn’t find any references linking her to Matteo, so it was hard to gauge the length of their relationship. She died a mere nine months before our engagement. She’d only been thirty-three when she was killed. Gunshot wound to the head. No suspects.

  When Matteo said she was dead, I had expected cancer or a car accident. Had she been killed because of her association with him? Had he killed her? Unlikely. He’d seemed truly distraught about her death. It made me curious to know more, but unless I was willing to ask Matteo for answers, Tamir’s report would be the extent of my knowledge.

  By the time Wednesday rolled around, I was feeling far more comfortable with my feelings and was antsy to clear the air between us but had no idea how. We were scheduled to spend the evening with his family. I was hopeful the buffer would help ease us back into a more comfortable place.

  I met most of the immediate family at the rehearsal dinner and saw them briefly again at the wedding, but neither setting had provided much opportunity to truly get to know them. His Nona had been warm and pleasant, but I detected a spitfire under the wrinkles and gold chains. I was curious to see what she’d be like on her home turf.

  “Ah! There’s my Tito and his pretty bride. Come in, come in.”

  My eyes caught Matteo’s, and I raised a brow as we stepped inside. Tito?

  He shrugged. “Titus. She said I used to act like a little dictator.”

  “You?” I gaped playfully.

  “Quiet, woman.” He grunted, placing his hand on the small of my back. My heart soared both at his touch and at the first hint of banter between us in three days.

  “Maria! We’re so glad you’re here.” Matteo’s sister-in-law, Mia, enveloped me in a warm hug. Despite my aversion to hugs, I returned the gesture, attempting to enjoy the affection rather than let it make me feel awkward.

  “Where’s M’ria? I want to see her.” A little girl with golden ringlets came racing into the living room. Her momentum screeched to a halt when she spotted me. She pulled her hands behind her back shyly and gave me a small smile, but the second her eyes landed on Matteo, all nerves were forgotten. “Uncle Teo!” She charged at him full tilt. He anticipated the assault as he reached down and swept her into the air, spinning her in circles much to her delight.

  When the excitement calmed and he placed her naturally on his hip, they turned their smiles my direction.

  “Abi, this is Maria. Maria, this is Abi.” His words were a simple introduction, but between the lines, he explained that this little girl was who he’d been talking to when I overheard him on the phone.

  I bit down on my lip sheepishly. “Hey, Abi. It’s so good to meet you. Your sneaky uncle didn’t even tell me he had any nieces and nephews.”

  The little girl beamed. She was the most angelic child I’d ever seen—cherubic by nature. Mia and Gabe were in for a world of trouble with her.

  “That’s partially my fault,” offered Mia. “We aren’t a part of the life, so we don’t tend to take our kids to big family functions. Plus, they’re young, so it’s easier to leave them with a sitter. Otherwise, you would have met at the weddin
g.”

  She was protecting them. I admired that more than she could know.

  Abi pressed a noisy kiss to Matteo’s cheek then wiggled her way out of his arms and tore from the room. As she scurried away, Nona called out from the kitchen for Mia.

  “Oops! I forgot I was supposed to be helping.”

  “Um … I’m not good at cooking, but I’m happy to help … if you want.” Never in all my years had I offered to help in the kitchen back home. I hated cooking, and even more, I hated the chit chat that happened while cooking. But there was something about being with Matteo’s family that made me want to participate. Made me want to fit in.

  Mia nodded warmly. “Of course! Come keep us company.” She waved me along, and I fell into step behind her, offering Matteo a small smile over my shoulder. His heated gaze in response nearly had me tripping over the coffee table.

  He liked seeing me with his family. That had to be a good sign.

  There was something about being with Matteo that made me feel like I could have a fresh start. He gave me the opportunity to free myself from my past. At my childhood home, surrounded by my family, it was nearly impossible to break free of the expectations and habits that bound me to the girl I’d always been. Here in Nona’s kitchen, I was free to be whoever I wanted.

  Free to be Matteo’s Maria. Maria De Luca.

  She was a more mature woman. Kinder. Understanding and not so callous. I liked who I was when I was her. I wanted to figure out how to be her more often.

  “So, tell me Maria, what is it you like most about my Matteo?” Nona stirred a white sauce on the stove, peeking at me from the corner of her heavily lidded eyes.

  “Nona, don’t put her on the spot!” Mia jumped to my defense. “She’s not gonna want to come over if you bully her.”

  “Who said anything about being a bully?” the older woman shot back. “If she likes Matteo, it’s an easy question.” She levelled her inscrutable gaze at me, waiting for my answer. I was guessing Nona hadn’t been informed that our marriage was strategic in nature.