Page 331 of Hate Mates

So fucking done being his punching bag.

Without thought, I asked him to stop the vehicle and got out. No way was I going to spend another second with him. I would rather stab myself in the eyeball with a fork than take any more of his shit.

It was during my walk that I made up my mind. I wouldn’t spend another ounce of my attention on Matteo Rossi.

Climbing the porch steps I pull my key from my purse, but before I get the chance to use it, the door is pulled open, revealing my mother. Her assessing eyes track over my body, taking in my outfit, before moving up to my make-up free face and wet, tangled hair. She scowls. It’s expected. My mother always requires perfection from me. If I am deemed anything less by her standards, then the nasty remarks commence.

“What the hell do you look like, Athena?” Her voice is like a whip against my skin.

Elouise Johnson is the last person I want to deal with right now. Especially after my encounter with Matteo in the SUV.

Sighing, I reach up, rubbing my temples with my fingers, trying to ease the headache forming. “I’m not in the mood for a lesson in your impossibly high standards, or your judgement about my appearance right now, Mother.”

Shoving past her, I head straight to the stairs, wanting to get as far away as possible from her and to my bedroom. But her next words stop me in my tracks. “Henry Weinrich is in your father’s office. You have a date with him tonight,” she states apathetically.

My shoulders slump, realization settling over me. Henry messaging me about a date wasn’t because he genuinely likes me, it is a set up. I shouldn’t be surprised. My father would do anything to palm me off to a man from an upstanding, wealthy family. I guess Henry ticks all those boxes for him. A bitter chuckle leaves my lips at my naivety, hitting me in the gut.

I genuinely thought Henry had asked me of his own volition, but it’s clear now, father is pushing for this union. The freedom I have been granted over the years has all been an illusion. Just like Allegra, my dad wants to force me into a marriage of hischoosing. My feelings be damned. Its fucking archaic, but not unheard of in our circles.

My mothers pierces the fog of my warring mind. Glancing at her, I find her narrowed gaze on me.

“Go make yourself presentable,” she hisses.

And with no fight left in me, not after the argument with Matteo, I straighten my shoulders and become the dutiful daughter I was raised to be.

Climbing the stairs, each step feels heavier than the last as if I have the weight of the world on my shoulders. But still, I shove my emotions aside and head to my room to get ready for my date.

Chapter Seven

MATTEO

Sitting in the upmarket restaurant, I watch from my table, hidden from view in a dark corner, as Athena smiles demurely at whatever her asshole date says to her, before tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear and taking a sip of her wine.

To anyone else, she looks happy, relaxed, but I see straight through the veil of bullshit. Her eyes are without their usual sparkle, dead, resigned and with no hint of the challenging, feisty, confident woman I have seen during her time at the Marchetti estate.

The woman I stare at now is a stranger. Submissive. A Stepford wife in the making. Long gone is the fire that usually lights up her blue gaze, in its place a dull fading light. Nausea churns in my gut watching her.

Don’t ask me why. This weird turn of events, and why I am stalking the woman I hate with a burning passion, is something I don’t even understand. Yet, I can’t seem to walk away. I want to see how this evening pans out. See if the Athena I know returns to replace this poor excuse of a replica.

But it never happens. Athena, in all her irritating glory, does not appear. Not during dinner, dessert, or even when he cups her face and presses a kiss to her lips. Her unsure, constrained manner is as obvious as the tension in her body and yet, she does nothing.

Hmm, interesting.

Maybe I got it all wrong and this passive version is the real Athena Johnson. I shake my head. No. I refuse to believe that. As much as I dislike the girl, I can admit I respect her need to be unapologetically herself. I may despise the challenging femme fatale but at least she is real.

Athena grins at whatever her date murmurs to her, making my pulse drums in my ears and my fists clench. It’s only when her date looks away and she wipes his touch from her cheek, shooting him a look of disdain, that I settle.

That’s my girl. The bitch is back.

My eyes widen.

Shit. No. Not my girl. Not myanything.

The motherfucker pays the check, then stands, holding his hand for Athena to take. My breath catches in my throat when I get a good look at what she is wearing.

Silk. A green dress that hugs her body like it was made specifically for her. The color compliments her olive skin and dark hair, and I have the sudden urge to run my hands all over that sinful body.

Once again, I shake that thought away. After what Nico suggested, this day is really messing with my head, and if I were a smart man I would haul ass before I do something stupid and act on these… unexpected cravings.

---