Page 122 of Seeking Vengeance

That could take days. Maybe weeks.

I’m not sure I can ignore my brother that long. I’ll try though.

As it is, Cole calls three times on the journey back to D.C. and texts twice. But the only person I reply to is Stella. I check in to make sure she’s doing her homework and eating properly. Then I ask about her nightmares and the latest visit with her counselor, because here I am, living wild and free, while she continues to suffer for my mistakes.

When we arrive at the penthouse, Matthew drags our suitcase into his bedroom, discarding it at the door to his walk-in robe before pulling me against his chest. “You’re quiet.”

“I’m contemplative.” I paste on a smile. “There’s a lot to think about.”

“And we still need to talk.” He guides an errant strand of hair behind my ear. “We should’ve done it in the car, but you’ve been so damn quiet. One word from me and I expect you to run.”

“I don’t have my running shoes on.”

He flashes a grin at my lame humor, the expression quickly fading. “When are we going to do this,amore mio?”

I don’t know.

I don’t want to start counting down the minutes before he starts to look at me with judgment for my role in the Costas’ actions instead of the constant admiration I’m used to.

He knows what our world demands of us. He, more than normal people, will understand how low I stooped to help my father.

“Tonight?” I hedge.

His brows pull tight. “I have to work. There are loose ends from the shooting that I have to chase up.”

“What loose ends?”

“I haven’t heard from Lorenzo. I need to make sure everything is under control.”

“You can’t do that here?” I don’t want to be alone tonight. Tomorrow, maybe. But not now.

“This isn’t like you.” His eyes narrow. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” I step back, pasting on a smile. “I just assumed you’d be home, that’s all. We can talk tomorrow.”

I ignore the hollowness growing beneath my sternum.

I already understand the types of things Matthew would’ve done for Lorenzo. The intimidation. The threats. The violence. We both have a past that’s unkind. But will my sins outweigh his? What I did was personal. In comparison, his brutality would’ve been sterile and strategic. A necessity instead of self-fulfilling.

“You’re worried.” His attention doesn’t soften. He stares, reading me, his intense observation sinking under my skin.

“I’m tired.”

“Whose fault is that?” He grabs my wrist and drags me back into his chest. “You do nothing to discourage my hunger. But you’re also lying because you still don’t want to talk, do you?”

I contemplate another lie.

“What part of it is the problem?” He holds me close. “You don’t want to discuss your family or your connection to the Costas?”

I don’t want to discuss any of it. Not one single part of my existence before he entered my life.

I keep my mouth shut, unsure how to respond when his cell vibrates in his jacket.

“Shit.” He releases me and pulls out the device. “It’s Lorenzo. I need to take this.”

A hard kiss is plastered to my lips before he strides across the room, answering the call as he shoves open the balcony door to step outside. He greets his mentor in pristine Italian, the words turning to murmurs once he closes the door behind him.

I watch him pace, the late afternoon sun gleaming in his dark hair, the glow kissing his tanned skin while I unpack the suitcase. Every minute of conversation adds a new notch to his stiffened posture. An increased hike to the confident set of his chin.

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