Page 137 of Matteo
This thing with Matteo though… I crossed the line. He crossed the line. I hurt her badly, and I was so damn sorry.
If only I could explain it to her. Although, if I was honest with myself, I knew deep down that this thing with him was bound to end. It was the reason I’d insisted on secrecy in the first place.
So, I deferred my studies and left. I wasn’t strong enough to resist him, and if I stayed, he’d continue feeding both of our obsessions. He refused to let go even after…
God. I shot the man I loved. What the fuck was wrong with me?
Everything had gotten so out of hand, and that night I knew what I had to do.
Run.
My destination: Ireland.
After Hannah disappeared, I went searching for Uncle Kyran. If Hannah would listen to anyone, it would be him.
But when I arrived at the club, I learned he’d left for Ireland the previous night.
Hence how I found myself here. I’d been on the move for the past two weeks, chasing Hannah through the wilds of this beautiful country.
After I returned to the dorm, Gianna had caught me halfway packed. She understood what I had to do. For better or worse, I needed to make things right.
But first I needed funds. I could withdraw a large sum from my accounts, but I knew it’d alert Dad. The tensions between the Vitales and Morrellis worked to my advantage. I came up with a plan to visit the Vitales. Gianna, my clever baby sister, came along, entertaining Matteo’s parents with a made-up problem she needed help with while I snuck into Mr. Vitale’s office and stole all his cash.
I probably didn’t need the comfort it afforded me, but I wasn’t about to complain. I’d seen castles, rugged coastlines, national parks, and listened to chatter in Gaelic, pretending I understood what the heck they were saying.
It was… lonely. For the first time ever, I had no one to bounce ideas off, no one to sit and talk through what was worrying me.
I’d been moving from city to city, visiting sights that I’d read about and eating delicious foods that didn’t quite compare to my mom’s cooking.
I stared up at the white ceiling of my hotel suite in Dingle, the excited chatter of the outdoor adventure seekers filteringthrough the open window. I couldn’t quite relate, finding zero enjoyment in climbing cliffsorjumping off them.
Fuck, I missed my parents. My siblings.Hannah.
I’d sent her two dozen messages, but they all remained unanswered. I tried to tell myself that maybe she didn’t recognize the number since I was using a burner phone, but I was just fooling myself.
Sliding out of bed, I padded into the bathroom and went through the motions of getting ready for my next stop.
Shower. Clothes. Pack all my belongings that mainly consisted of sweatpants, T-shirts, and sweatshirts. Wig.
I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, the image off-putting even after two weeks of wearing that damned thing that made my scalp itch.
Maybe I was going overboard, but something told me Matteo wouldn’t give up easily. I had a feeling that the scene he pulled to ensure Hannah caught us red-handed only scratched the surface of how far he’d go.
Pushing all thoughts aside, I shoved all my toiletries into my bag, zipped it shut, and strode into the bedroom, where I proceeded to drop my bag to the ground and slap a hand over my mouth to cover my shriek.
There, in the overstuffed armchair, his dark hair messy and his crisp white shirt rolled up at his sleeves, sat Matteo, gun in hand.
I swallowed. “What… How… What are you doing here?”
His posture relaxed, he almost appeared nonthreatening. Almost. But his darkened expression and flaring nostrils were enough to warn me of his malice.
“I told you to wait for me in your dorm.”
“I had to go.”
“You had to go,” he repeated slowly.
“Housekeeping will be up in a minute to grab my bags,” I lied. “Please leave.”
