Page 102 of Matteo
For a fraction of a second, pain twisted his features before it was gone, swallowed by a ruthless mask. His jaw clenched, his eyes darkening to something lethal.
Then he smiled. A sharp, merciless thing.
“You won’t have a choice.”
His voice curled around me, laced with something more dangerous than anger—determination. He took a step forward. I stepped back. My Chucks kissed the tops of his expensive Italian shoes. I took another step back, my back hitting the door, and he took another, taking up every inch of my space as his hand came around my neck.
“Matteo…” His father’s warning voice registered in the corner of my mind, but I was ensnared in the gaze of my sister’s fiancé.
He didn’t budge, ignoring all the commotion around us. “Tell me you don’t want me.”
“I… don’t… want… you…” I whispered between choked breaths, both my hands on his around my neck, my fingers digging into his flesh. “If you care at all, you’ll let me go.”
“Then I must not care, because I’ll never… fucking ever… let you go.”
The pressure around my neck tightened, shouts and the chaotic scene behind him registering through the fog in my mind.
“Get your hands off my daughter,” Dad growled, his voice arctic. “And step the fuck away from her or this floor will be stained with your brains and blood.”
“Nico!” Mom screamed, tugging Dad who held the barrel of a gun against Matteo’s temple. Uncle Cassio attempted to intervene, but Matteo wasn’t budging.
My vision blurred, distantly aware of my mom’s red face, Uncle Luca’s gun pointed at Mr. Vitale, and Sasha Nikolaev grumblingTold you I’d be neededwhile he tried to wedge his way between all the suicidal mafia men.
“Son, let her go!” Mr. Vitale ordered, his own gun pointed at my dad.
“What is happening here?” Mrs. Vitale whisper-yelled, appearing in the far corner of the hallway.
She stared at the scene in shock for a second, maybe more, before she came running.
“Jesus Christ, Matteo. What are you doing?” she cried. “Let her go!”
Matteo’s and my mom screamed, their tear-streaked faces flushed red and painted with agony.
“Nico, get away from my son,” Luciano growled.
“Tell your son to get the fuck away from my daughter,” he shot back, his finger still on the trigger.
But Matteo refused to move, glaring at me. My limbs trembled the more I stared at his eyes, glazing with intensity.
“There’s no moving on,” he mouthed, ignoring the chaos around us and keeping all his focus on me. Then, louder, he added, “Not for you. Not for me. Not for us.”
The pain on his face must have mirrored my own, because I felt it deep in my heart. And as much as I wanted him, I couldn’t do it at the cost of my twin’s pain.
“I’m sorry,” I rasped.For what I’m about to do.
His hold around my neck loosened, and gathering all my strength, I kneed him in the groin, pushed him away, and ran.
I had to get out of here before I made a fool out of myself or did something stupid.
I was almost to my Jeep parked in front of the manor where the sounds of the party were nonexistent when footsteps registered.
“Ari. Don’t.” Two simple words, but they held all the pain and anguish in the world.
I whirled around, my eyes burning as he closed in on me, stopping five feet away.
“Enough, Matteo,” I pleaded, gathering the courage to say the words that would sever all that we’d ever shared.
A low growl rumbled from his chest.
