Page 54 of Ruined By Protection
I clasp the wildflower tattoo on my wrist, seeking courage. "Please, just go."
"No." The word is final, brooking no argument. "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me exactly what that piece of shit did to you."
"Why do you care?" I challenge, suddenly finding my voice. "You didn't even recognize me when I got off that plane."
"Who the fuck touched you like that?" Matteo demands again, shouting and ignoring what I just said. His hand reaches out, fingers lightly grazing the biggest purple bruise on my shoulder.
"Take your hand off me," I snap, jerking away.
Matteo's hand pulls back like I scalded him, his expression darkening. "Hazel?—"
"No." I find my voice, pulling the dress tighter around me. "As far as I’m aware we're nothing more than two people who once had sex. That'sall." The words taste bitter on my tongue but I force them out anyway. "My problems are mine alone, and I need you out of here.Now."
A flash of light hardens his eyes—hurt, maybe, before icing over. His mouth curves up into a feral smile that doesn't reach his eyes.
"That one night of sex?" He tilts his head, voice a silky rumble. "I bet you remember it well, bella. I certainly do."
Heat floods my cheeks as unwanted memories surface—his hands on my skin, his mouth against the side of my neck, the way he'd made me feel things I never felt before or since. Even now, half-naked and vulnerable, my body betrays me with a shiver that has nothing to do with the cold.
"Get out," I whisper, hating how weak I sound.
To my surprise, Matteo steps back, giving me space. But his eyes never leave mine, and the intensity in them makes my breath catch.
"I'll go," he says quietly. "But know this—I will make that bastard pay for what he did to you."
The casual way he says it sends ice through my veins. Not a threat, but a promise—stated with the same certainty someone might mention tomorrow's weather.
"Matteo, don't?—"
But he's already turning away, moving toward the door with predatory grace. At the threshold he pauses, looking back at me over his shoulder.
"Lock your door, Hazel."
Then he's gone, pulling the door closed behind him with a soft click that somehow sounds more final than a slam.
I stand frozen for several heartbeats before rushing to turn the lock, fingers trembling against the metal. Only when I hear it click into place do I sink to the floor, still clutching the emerald dress against my chest, trying to process what just happened.
Matteo
The phone's shrill ring tears me from a restless sleep. I grab it from the nightstand, squinting at the screen that reads 5.37 a.m. Daniel's name flashes across it.
"What?" I growl, my voice rough with sleep.
"We need to talk," Daniel says, his tone clipped and professional. "About Montgomery."
I sit up immediately, sleep falling away. After leaving Hazel's room last night I called Daniel with explicit instructions to digup everything on Elliott Montgomery. Those bruises on Hazel's body have been burning in my mind all night.
"I'm listening." I swing my legs over the side of the bed.
"It's extensive," Daniel says. "You want this in person?"
"No. Now." I stand, moving to the window. Dawn is just breaking over the city, painting the skyline in shades of gray and pink. "Give me what you have."
I hear papers rustling on his end. "Elliott Montgomery, thirty years old. Heir to Montgomery Construction, one of the largest commercial builders in Texas. Based in Austin. Family's old money," Daniel continues. "Father, Richard Montgomery, is on the board of several major companies. Mother, Caroline, is from banking money. Elliott graduated from Harvard with honors, took over East Coast operations of Montgomery Construction three years ago."
"Criminal record?" I ask, though I already suspect the answer.
"Clean," Daniel confirms. "But that's where it gets interesting. Several complaints filed against him over the years. Two from ex-girlfriends. All mysteriously withdrawn."
