Page 57 of Dare To Free Us

“It’s Leo. Are you decent?”

“Yes.” I pulled the covers up a bit tighter.

The door slowly swung open and Leo’s large frame stepped through looking far less than comfortable. Today he wore a light suit that still did nothing to smooth out his dangerous aura.

“Matteo asked me to get some fresh clothes for him.”

I sat up in bed, holding the covers to my chest, my thin silk pajamas were not going to make an appearance. “Where is he?”

“At the penthouse,” Leo said over his shoulder, while making his way to the closet.

I could hear him rummage around for several minutes, thinking he must’ve been having a hard time finding things. He walked out with an arm full of suit bags and my eyes widened.

“Why does he need so many clothes?”

Leo stopped in the doorway. “All I was told was to get four suits from his house and deliver them to the penthouse. He also asked me to assign more guards to the house.” Then he turned and closed the door behind him.

My heart shuddered. Matteo wasn’t coming home, for days. That’s how angry he was with me, enough he couldn’t stand the sight of me or share the same bed.

A small part of me had hoped he’d come in and say he understood. That he agreed with me and wanted to find a way to live a life our family could thrive in. Couldlivein. A stupid fantasy for a desperate woman.

Because that wasn’t going to happen. I could only imagine the pain I caused him and it made me want to tear at my skin and scream to the world, but not enough to make me regret feeling the way I did.

A memory flashed in my head. I’d thought about that day hundreds of times but suddenly a few lines from my father’s mouth took on a whole new meaning.

I just want what’s best for you. You will understand when you have children of your own.

He was right, there was no way for me to anticipate the effect a baby would have on me. The way it changed,everything.

I thought I understood my dad’s objection for me to be with Matteo, but now the full scale of how deep it ran and why, slapped me in the face.

Like any good father he’d been trying to warn me that you can never truly grasp the future. The statement hadn’t been about me in that moment of simply being with Matteo. It was about wanting what was best for me as a person, a girlfriend, a wife, and a mother.

That even though all those things are separated by time— and not always in the same order— they are all a singular string of events setting the stage for the next title.

My choices had set the stage for me to become a mother who condemned her children for her own happiness. No matter what precautions Matteo took, the love he possessed for them, or sheer determination, it wouldn’t keep the world we brought them into at bay.

I didn’t know too many mafia families intimately, but since becoming Matteo’s wife I’d met and heard about several in more detail. I couldn’t think of many I’d met or heard of that didn’t have murdered family members or daughters stuck in a marriage that had them fake smiling under sad eyes.

Gritting my teeth I screeched though my clenched jaw at what I had done. Stuck somewhere between wishing I could go back and not regretting a single moment with Matteo. The torment pulled on my sanity, threatening to destroy me.

My stomach growled loud enough to sound like a monster was hiding under the bed. This time I couldn’t ignore it. The nausea from going so long without eating washed over me.

Slowing dragging myself out of bed I threw on a pair of pajama pants and a light sweater. Dragging my feet to the door I felt like the world around me had gone fuzzy. My mind was so tired I could feel it shutting down for self preservation.

It didn’t want to think anymore and I didn’t want to listen to what it had to say. I needed food and water. I needed to find the strength to make a decision and either way, live with the consequences.

13

MATTEO

The city skyline stretched out below me. My old penthouse was grand and spacious but it felt like a self-imposed prison. Because that’s exactly what it was.

It was the first time I hadn’t gone home to Arianna and it feltwrong. Looking out over a city that I ruled with my queen absent beside me, but I couldn’t make myself go back to her that night. So, I headed to my old penthouse where we’d lived for a short time before I bought the mansion in Chestnut Hill. That fact it was the first place we made love only drove the knife in my chest deeper.

Picturing her face and the words spilling out of her mouth the other night made my chest fill with anger. It was like looking at a different person. The fear, mistrust, and doubt had filled the studio like mustard gas, burning my lungs with every breath.

The things she said sounded nothing like the woman who shared my bed the past three years. It couldn’t be. I just didn’t understand how someone could change so dramatically. Arianna was my rock, the one who pulled me up with her belief and trust. But I watched her break down like a ball made of sand, too dried out to hold shape.

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