Page 37 of Capture Me
Akio is the only one who has apologized to me with words. He continues to show how sorry he is for how they treated me by trying to include me in whatever activity he’s up to or just popping into whatever room I’m exploring to say hello. He asks me questions because he says he wants to know me, like what my favorite restaurant is, what shows I watched growing up, and even what I would take if I was ever stranded on a deserted island (my kindle and my Damascus knife). With each conversation it becomes harder and harder to remember that I hate him.
Declan watches me like a hawk. His gaze is a tangible thing, skittering across my skin like fingers. He may not start conversations with me like Akio does, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t paying attention to what I have to say. He’s the one who makes sure I see the bag of chocolates he happened to buy too much of when I’d been complaining that I wanted something sweet to eat the day before.
Matteo… Well, Matteo is Matteo. Broody because he has no other facial expression other than frowning. Bitchy because I’m always in the wrong place at the wrong time according to him. And grumpy because I still haven’t decided if I’m taking their deal or not and his patience is wearing thin.
I know the clock is ticking, but despite the kindness they’ve shown me lately, I don’t trust them. Not fully, anyway. This bargain they presented me with seems too good to be true, which must mean it is. And a partof me, a huge part, wants to stick it to them in whatever way I can for what they’ve done to me. So if withholding information they might find valuable gives me an advantage over them, then I’m leaning toward keeping my lips zipped for as long as possible.
It’s mid-afternoon and I’m sprawled out on my bed, flipping through what shows to watch and avoiding the guys, when my stomach grumbles. As the designated chef of the house, Matteo is pretty strict about what time they eat their meals. Dinner isn’t for another two hours at least, so I roam downstairs and into the kitchen for a snack.
A body steps out of the pantry on my way to the fridge and I run smack into a shirtless, chiseled torso. Glass crashes to the ground a heartbeat later, spilling red tomato sauce all over the pristine white tile floor.
Matteo glares down at me with an armful of ingredients. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of shorts and smells overwhelmingly delicious. He must have showered recently because the ends of his hair are still damp. “Watch where you’re walking,” he snaps.
My brows draw together. I’m getting real sick and tired of his fucking attitude. I open my mouth to tell him just that, but a woman with graying hair steps around the corner with a dish towel in her hand.
“Matteo!” she says with a frown. “For heaven’s sake!”
He looks over his shoulder at her. “Sorry, Ms. T. She ran into me while I was getting ready to make dinner. We’ll clean it.”
Ms. T?Ohhh.This must be their housekeeper, Ms. Trudy. I was wondering when I was going to run into her.
Ms. Trudy flips the dish towel over her shoulder and plants her fists on her hips, eyeing Matteo with a disapproving look. “Never mind the mess. Accidents happen, you buffoon! Is that any way to speak to a lady?”
My eyebrows rise. Well, I like Ms. Trudy already if she’s willing to call this dickhead out on his bullshit.
Matteo grumbles something that sounds like an apology before stepping around the mess and placing the ingredients he’s holding on the counter.
“I’ll clean it up,” I tell them. “Sorry about that.”
A warm smile brightens the woman’s face. “Don’t worry yourself, dear. Teo will take care of it.” She aims a look of warning at Matteo who immediately gets to work. “It’s the least he can do after the way he spoke to you.”
It’s not the worst he’s done to me, but whatever. I hop over the mess, avoiding the bits of broken glass Matteo is sweeping up. “I’m Fallon,” I introduce myself awkwardly. “I’m…”
Wait a minute. Would she help me if she knows I’m a prisoner here? Hope swells, but Matteo opens his mouth, crushing it quickly.
“She’s our guest,” he says. “Slash captive. It’s really up to her, but she needs to hurry up and decide if she’s going to help us or not.”
I swing my attention back to the housekeeper. She doesn’t look the least bit concerned that I’m a potential captive. If anything, she still looks irritated with Matteo over the way he spoke to me. “Well, it’s nice to see that you three finally got your heads out of your own assholes and moved Fallon to a more comfortable room and out of that horrible cell.” Guess she’s more than aware of Cerberus and the activities that go down in the basement. She leans close to me and her lips stretch into a mischievous grin. “I’m Ms. Trudy. Heard you gave them hell down there. Atta girl.” She winks and steps back to the sink to finish the dishes. “Glad I can finally put a face to the name. You’ll let me know if you need anything at all.” It’s more of an order than an offer.
“Yes, ma’am.” I give her a smile and head to the fridge. Plucking out an apple, I spin around to see Matteo down on all fours, wiping up the last of the mess. “You look good on your knees, Funshine,” I tell him and then I bite into the fruit and back out of the kitchen.
His growl of annoyance chases after me as I laugh my way up the stairs.
A few hours later, there’s a knock on the open door to my room.
Declan stands in the doorway, frowning at me so severely that if I hadn’t already experienced what he’s capable of, I’d shrink away from him. I glance down at the plate wrapped with foil and a glass of red wine in his hands. “You didn’t come down for dinner,” he grumbles accusingly.
I arch a brow. “Didn’t think you cared if I showed up or not.” I usually try to come down for dinner as they are finishing up so I avoid having to talk to them more than necessary.
“Idon’tcare.” His jaw ticks as he places both items on my nightstand and stares down at me. “But we were going to talk to you. And Matteo was butthurt because he didn’t get to see your face when you tried his food again.”
Leaning across the bed, I lift the foil and see spaghetti and meatballs paired with garlic knots. Fuck that smells good. I snag the bread off the plate and take a bite. Fuck it tastes even better. Not that I’ll ever admit this to Matteo, but he’s a damn good cook. Even more amazing, he literally makes everything from scratch. Akio tells me he has a little greenhouse somewhere on the property where he grows all his vegetables.
“What did you guys want to talk to me about?”
He stares at my mouth as I take another bite. Then his gray eyes meet mine, a warming heat passing between our gazes. Declan shakes his headbefore reaching up to fiddle with his eyebrow ring. “We wanted to see where you stand on the deal. It’s been two weeks.”
I narrow my eyes. “And if I still don’t have an answer, then what? Are you going to throw me back in the panic room, or worse, kill me like you suggested before?” I say the words with confidence, though my stomach tightens just thinking about being forced back down to the basement.
