Page 57 of Ruined By Protection
The sound of the front door opening echoes through the hallway, followed by heavy footsteps. My pulse quickens before I can control it.
Matteo appears in the doorway, his presence immediately filling the room. He's dressed in dark jeans and a black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, revealing the compass tattoo on his forearm. His eyes find mine immediately and the intensity in them makes me look away.
"Morning," he says, his voice deceptively casual. After last night's confrontation in my bedroom nothing between us feels casual anymore.
"Coffee?" Lucrezia offers, seemingly oblivious to the tension crackling between us.
"Already had some." Matteo moves to the sideboard, helping himself to a piece of toast. "What's the plan for today?"
"Shopping," Lucrezia announces brightly. "Hazel needs clothes."
I stare intently at my plate, feeling Matteo's eyes on me. The memory of standing in my room without clothes, as he stared at my bruises makes heat rise to my cheeks—not only from embarrassment, but from the raw fury I'd seen in his eyes.
"I'll drive you," he says, his tone making it clear this isn't an offer but a statement of fact.
Lucrezia raises an eyebrow. "Daniel was going to take us."
"I'm handling Hazel's security in case you forgot." Matteo says, his voice firm.
I finally look up at him. "Is that really necessary? For a shopping trip?"
His eyes lock with mine and for a moment I see the dangerous man beneath the civilized exterior. "Your husband filed a missing persons report. Claims you're mentally unstable. He's got private investigators looking for you."
The room seems to tilt slightly. "How do you know that?"
"I have my sources." He takes a bite of toast, chewing deliberately. "So yes, security is necessary."
Lucrezia looks between us, her expression thoughtful. "Well then, it's settled. Matteo will drive us." She stands, smoothing her jeans. "I'll get my purse. Hazel, finish your breakfast. We need to leave soon if we want to meet Evelyn at eleven."
She departs, leaving me alone with Matteo. The silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken words.
I swallow hard. "What happens now?"
"Now I know exactly what needs to be done about him."
A chill runs through me, not entirely from fear. "Matteo?—"
"Don't worry about him." He cuts me off. "Focus on getting what you need today. And stay close to me."
The intensity in his voice makes my heart race. Part of me wants to argue, to insist I can handle myself. But another part—the part that spent two years in constant fear—feels something perilously close to relief.
I push my plate away, appetite gone. The idea of Elliott hunting me down with private investigators makes my stomach clench. He'd been tracking me for so long—my phone, my car, cameras in our house—that I'd almost forgotten what privacy felt like. Now I'm free but still hunted.
"You should eat more," Matteo says, his eyes dropping to my half-finished breakfast.
"I'm not hungry." I twist the napkin in my lap, unable to meet his gaze.
The silence between us grows thick and uncomfortable. I can feel him watching me, assessing, calculating. Whatever Matteo is thinking, he keeps it locked behind those fierce eyes.
"Matteo," I finally say, my voice barely above a whisper, "whatever you're planning?—"
"I'm not planning anything," he interrupts, but the tight set of his jaw tells me otherwise.
"I just don't want anyone getting hurt because of me."
Something flashes across his face—anger, maybe, or frustration. "The only person getting hurt will be?—"
The click of Lucrezia's heels cuts him off. She sweeps back into the dining room, Jimmy Choo purse hanging from her forearm, Prada sunglasses perched on top of her head.
