A Hunger for the Forbidden - By Maisey Yates Page 0,40

want to try to figure out what to do with Alessia, who was still sleeping in the guest bedroom in the palazzo, for heaven’s sake.

Something had to be done. Action had to be taken, and for the first time in his life, he felt frozen.

He set his shot glass down on the counter and tilted it to the side before pushing the bottom back down onto the tile, the sound of glass on ceramic loud and decisive. He stalked out of the bar and into the corridor, taking a breath, trying to clear his head.

Alcohol was not the answer. A loss of control was not the answer.

He had to get a grip. On his thoughts. On his actions. He had a business to try to fix, deals to cement. And all he could think about was Alessia.

He turned and faced the window that looked out on the courtyard. Moonlight was spilling over the grass, a pale shade of gray in the darkness of night.

And then he saw a shadow step into the light. The brightness of the moon illuminated the figure’s hair, wild and curling in the breeze. A diaphanous gown, so sheer the light penetrated it, showed the body beneath, swirled around her legs as she turned in a slow circle.

An angel.

And then he was walking, without even thinking, he was heading outside, out to the courtyard, out to the woman who woke something deep in his soul. Something he hadn’t known existed before she’d come into his life.

Something he wished he’d never discovered.

But it was too late now.

He opened the back door and stepped out onto the terrace, walking to the balustrade and grasping the stone with his hands, leaning forward, his attention fixed on the beauty before him.

On Alessia.

She was in his system, beneath his skin. So deep he wondered if he could ever be free of her. It would be harder now, all things considered. She was his wife, the mother of his child.

He could send her to live in the palazzolo with his mother. Perhaps his mother would enjoy a grandchild.

He sighed and dismissed that idea almost the moment it hit. A grandchild would only make his mother feel old. And would quite possibly give her worry lines thanks to all the crying.

And you would send your child to live somewhere else?

Yes. He was considering it, in all honesty.

What did he know about children? What did he know about love? Giving it. Receiving it. The kind of nurturing, the father-son bond fostered by his father was one he would just as soon forget.

A bond forged, and ended, by fire.

He threw off the memories and started down the steps that led to the grass. His feet were bare and in that moment he realized he never went outside without his shoes. A strange realization, but he became conscious of the fact when he felt the grass beneath his feet.

Alessia turned sharply, her dark hair cascading over her shoulder in waves. “Matteo.”

“What are you doing out here?”

“I needed some air.”

“You like being outdoors.”

She nodded. “I always have. I hated being cooped up inside my father’s house. I liked to take long walks in the sun, away from the … staleness of the estate.”

“You used to walk by yourself a lot.”

“I still do.”

“Even after the attack?” The words escaped without his permission, but he found he couldn’t be sorry he’d spoken them.

“Even then.”

“How?” he asked, his voice rough. “How did you keep doing that? How did you go on as if nothing had changed?”

“Life is hard, Matteo. People you love die, I know you know about that. People who should love you don’t treat you any better than they’d treat a piece of property they were trying to sell for a profit. I’ve just always tried to see the good parts of life, because what else could I do? I could sit and feel sorry for myself, but it wouldn’t change anything. And I’ve made the choice to stay, so that would be silly. I made the choice to stay and be there for my brothers and sisters, and I can’t regret it. That means I have to find happiness in it. And that means I can’t cut out my walks just because a couple of horrible men tried to steal them from me.”

“And it’s that simple?”

“It’s not simple at all, but I do it. Because I have to find a way to live my life. My life. It’s the only one I have. And I’ve just learned