A Hunger for the Forbidden - By Maisey Yates Page 0,15
abuse? But he couldn’t walk away, either. Couldn’t leave Alessia on her own. But he feared his touch would only poison a child. His baby would be born innocent, unspoiled by the world, and Matteo was supposed to hold him? With his hands? Hands that were stained with blood.
“You think you won’t be?”
“How can you give what you never had?”
“I hardly remember my mother, Matteo, but I did a good job with my brothers and sisters.”
“Perhaps I find that an absence of a good parent is not the same as having bad ones. What lessons shall I teach our child, cara? The kind my father taught me? How to find a man who owes you money? How to break his kneecaps with efficiency when he doesn’t pay up? I think not.”
He had thought she would look shocked by that, but she hardly flinched, her eyes never wavering from his. “Again you underestimate me, Matteo. You forget the family I come from.”
“You are so soft,” he said, speaking his mind, speaking his heart. “Breakable. Like a flower. You and I are not the same.”
She nodded slowly. “It’s easy to crush a flower. But if it’s the right kind of flower, it comes back, every year, after every winter. No matter how many times you destroy the surface, it keeps on living underneath.”
Her words sent a shot of pain straight to his chest, her quiet strength twisting something deep inside of him. “Don’t pretend you were forced into this,” he said softly. “You were given your choice.”
“And you were given yours.”
He nodded once and turned away from her, walked out of the room ignoring the pounding in his blood, ignoring the tightness in his chest. Trying to banish the image of his hand closing around a blossom and crushing the petals, leaving it completely destroyed.
Alessia looked around the lavish, now empty, suite that she was staying in until … until she didn’t know when. Weeks of not being able to get ahold of Matteo, not knowing what she would do if she didn’t, and now he was suddenly in her life like a hurricane, uprooting everything, taking control of everything.
She really shouldn’t be too surprised about it. That was one thing she did know about Matteo Corretti, beyond that stupid ream of noninformation he’d given her. He was controlled. Totally. Completely.
Twice she’d seen him lose that control. Once, on a sunny day in Sicily while he was staying at his grandparents’ rural estate. The day that had cemented him in her mind as her potential salvation.
And their night in New York. There had been no control then, not for either of them.
She pictured him as he’d been then. The way he’d looked at her in the low light of the bar. She closed her eyes and she was back there. The memory still so strong, so painfully sweet.
“What brings you to New York, Alessia?”
“Bachelorette party.” It was easy enough to leave out that it was for her. If he didn’t know about Alessandro, then she wouldn’t tell him.
“Did you order any strippers?”
Her cheeks heated. “No, gosh, why? Are you offering to fill the position?”
“How much have you had to drink?” he asked, a smile on his face. It was so rare for her to see him smile. She couldn’t remember if she ever had.
“Not enough.”
“I could fix that, but I think I’d like a dance and if you’re too drunk you won’t be able to keep up.”
“Why are you talking to me?” she asked. She’d known there was a chance he could be here. He owned the hotel, after all. Part of her had hoped she’d catch a glimpse of him. A little bit of torture, but torture that would be well worth it.
“What do you mean?”
“You haven’t spoken to me since—” something flashed in his eyes, a strange unease, and she redirected her words “—in a long time.”
“Too long,” he said, his voice rough.
Her heart fluttered, a surge of hope moving through her. She tried to crush it, tried to stop the jittery feelings moving through her now.
“So, do you have a dance for me?” he asked. “For an old friend?”
“Yes.” She couldn’t deny him, couldn’t deny herself.
She left her friends in the corner of the bar, at their table with all of their fruity drinks, and let Matteo lead her away from them, lead her to the darkened dance floor. A jazz quartet was playing, the music slow and sensual.
He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against