Page 146 of Matteo
When I finally lifted my gaze to meet his, I was an emotional mess, at a loss for words. My doubts about Hannah doubled and I started to wonder if maybe I should just focus on us.
Focus onmy husband.The word was foreign, but it also felt so right that it sent a soothing wave through me.
“I’ll get dressed for the boat ride,” I finally said, then pushed the chair back and headed back to the bedroom that was the only witness to my struggles over the past four weeks.
Luckily—or unluckily—Matteo had been meticulous in his plans because he packed everything for this kidnapping.
Winter clothes, check. Dresses, check. Lingerie, check. Toiletries, check. Phone, no check.
When I returned, I found him dressed in winter gear, holding a thermos and a parcel wrapped in butcher paper. “You can eat and sip your coffee while I drive.”
This Matteo was the one I grew up with. Thoughtful and kind, always ready to ensure my comfort. It was no wonder I fell in love with him, probably even long before that school shooting.
Gosh, that felt like ages ago.
Two hours later, the boat—more like a mini yacht—drifted across the dark seas while lunch was being served on theenclosed top deck. The space was surrounded by all glass, gas flames flickering in the fireplace centered in the middle of it and keeping us warm as classical music played in the background.
“Do you like the food?” he asked. “It’s fish and chips. The cook is British and insisted on English food.”
I shrugged. “It’s alright.”
He tilted his chin to the plate I’d made up.
“Those cookies aren’t as good as yours.” His eyes locked on me. “Do you want to ask him to make you something else?”
“No.” His lips thinned, which I noticed happened whenever I gave him one-word responses. “I can make something when we get home.”
He went silent, stoic, and remained so for several moments before he asked, “Do you think of it as home?”
The truth was that I felt at home wherever he was, but how could I say that knowing those thoughts were a betrayal to my sister?
Clearing my throat, I said instead, “My dad will find us and then all hell will break loose.”
“You’re my wife. He won’t be taking you away from me.”
“Have you talked to him?” I asked.
Silence.
“Have you talked to Hannah? Gianna?” My voice cracked, but I was only met with more silence. “You can’t keep me from them forever.”
He clutched his fork and knife, cutting into his food, then brought it to his mouth, chewing slowly.
“Matteo!”
“Yes?”
“Are you going to answer me?”
“Considering you were already on the run, Arianna, I’d hardly say I’m keeping you from them.”
My lungs deflated. “But I should at least let them know I’m okay.”
“They know.”
“How?”
“Because I made a global wedding announcement,” he reminded me. “And your dad is a pain in my ass who loves you.”
