fucking exploded. Gianna didn’t pull back. Fuck, she kept sucking even as I shot my cum down her throat. With a long moan, I let my head fall back and my body became slack. Gianna lifted her head and wiped her mouth with a wide smile. “I win.”
I laughed quietly. “You did. Congratulations.”
“So I won’t have to wear the ankle monitor ever again?” she asked with a hint of suspicion.
“That’s the bet.” I didn’t tell her that I felt like the real winner. I’d never liked seeing her with the ankle monitor; it had always felt like a sacrilege to cage her in like that. I was glad that she wouldn’t wear it anymore, even if that meant I had to keep a close eye on her, and that Luca would probably punch me.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Gianna
The next morning after I’d showered and dressed, I enjoyed my newfound freedom, even if it was small. Matteo had kept his promise and stashed the ankle monitor in a drawer. I didn’t have to wear that stupid thing, at least for now. I doubted Matteo would still keep his promise if I tried to run again.
We’d both lost our bets and yet we both felt like winners. Life with Matteo was an enigma. He was already leaning against the kitchen counter, drinking coffee when I came out of the bedroom. His smile was so smug I had trouble stopping myself from wringing his neck. I grabbed a cup for myself, then leaned across from him. “Do you ever feel regret or guilt?”
Matteo’s eyebrows climbed his forehead. “Regret?”
“Yes, you know that feeling normal people have when they’ve done something wrong?” I took a sip. I wasn’t even sure why I was asking, except to wipe that annoying smugness off Matteo’s face.
For a long time Matteo only looked at me until I couldn’t stand it anymore and pretended my coffee was really interesting. Why did I suddenly feel guilty for asking that question?
“There’s little time for guilt and regret in my life,” Matteo said. His voice was quiet and devoid of humor; I couldn’t help but look up, trying to gauge his mood, but as usual he was making it difficult.
“So you do feel it sometimes?”
“Occasionally. But I’ve learned a long time ago that it’s not clever to dwell on the past. I prefer to focus on the future.” With that, his usual charm was switched back on. He strode toward me, set his cup down on the counter, and braced his arms beside me. “Do you ever regret running?”
I opened my mouth to say “no” but for some reason I hesitated. That moment of hesitation was all the answer Matteo needed.
“Why?”
“Because it got someone killed,” I said quietly. I’d managed to forget Sid and his horrible end, but now it all came back. I could have kicked Matteo for bringing the memory back. Especially because I’d come to realize that the life I’d run from wasn’t as horrible as I’d wanted it to be.
Matteo’s expression said he didn’t give a fuck about that, and it was pretty much what I’d expected. “I can tell you without a doubt that I don’t feel guilt over that guy’s death,” he murmured. He ran a hand down my side. “I would have killed every guy that touched you. But we both know I don’t have to because despite plenty of opportunity you were a good girl.”
The way he said “good girl” made my blood boil. I was still trying to come up with a clever comeback when the elevator rang, announcing a visitor. Matteo pecked the tip of my nose with a superior expression before staggering off toward the elevator. I couldn’t believe him.
I was still glaring at his back when the elevator doors slid open and Aria walked into the apartment. She was talking on the phone. To my surprise Matteo moved into the elevator, leaving us alone. I suspected he could lock the elevator from the outside, so I couldn’t leave unless I took a dive out of the window and ended up as a blood splatter on the sidewalk down below.
“Who are you talking to?” I asked as Aria headed toward me.
She gave me a bright smile and held the phone out to me. “Lily and Fabi want to talk to you but Father forbid them from calling you, so…” She trailed off. Of course, I’d suspected something like that. Father had made it pretty clear that he didn’t want me around them anymore.
“Thanks,” I mouthed