A Hunger for the Forbidden

chapter TEN

MATTEO WAITED FOR the horror of his admission to sink in. Waited for Alessia to turn from him, to run away in utter terror and disgust. She should. He wouldn’t blame her.

He also desperately wanted her to stay.

“Matteo …”

“These hands,” he said, holding them out, palms up, “that have touched you, have been used in ways that a man should never use his hands.”

“But you aren’t like that.”

He shook his head. “Clearly I am.”

“But you didn’t enjoy it.”

“No. I didn’t enjoy it.” He could remember very vividly how it had felt, how the sweat had broken out on his skin. How he had vomited after. His father’s men had found that terribly amusing. “But I did it.”

“What would your father have done to you if you hadn’t?”

He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does, Matteo, you were a boy.”

“I was a boy, but I was old enough to know that what my father did, what he was, was wrong.”

“And you were trapped in it.”

“Maybe. And maybe that would be an acceptable excuse for some people, but it’s not for me.”

“Why not? You were a boy and he abused you. Tell me, and be honest, what did he say he would do to you if you didn’t do it?”

Matteo was afraid for one moment that his stomach might rebel against him. “He told me if I couldn’t do it to a grown man, there were some children in the village I might practice on.”

Alessia’s face contorted with utter horror. “Would he have done that?”

“I don’t know. But I wasn’t going to find out, either.”

“He made you do it.”

“He manipulated me into doing it, but I did it.”

“How?” she asked, her voice a whisper.

“It’s easy to do things, anything, when you can shut the emotion down inside yourself. I learned to do that. I learned that there was a place inside of myself as cold as any part of my father’s soul. If I went there, it wasn’t so hard to do.” It was only after that he had broken. In the end, it was both the brokenness, and the cold, that had saved him.

His father had decided he wasn’t ready. Didn’t want his oldest son, the one poised to take over his empire, undermining his position by showing such weakness.

And after, the way he’d dealt with the knowledge that he’d lived with a monster, the way he’d dealt with knowing that he was capable of the very same atrocities, was to freeze out every emotion. He would not allow himself to want, to crave power or money in the way his father did. Passion, need, greed, were the enemy.

Then he’d seen Alessia. And he had allowed her a place inside him, a place that was warm and bright, one that he could retreat to. He saw happiness through her eyes when he watched her. His attraction to her not physical, but emotional. He let a part of himself live through her.

And that day when he’d seen those men attacking her, the monster inside him had met up against passion that had still existed in the depths of him, and had combined to create a violence that was beyond his control. One that frightened him much more than that moment of controlled violence in his father’s presence had.

More even than that final act, the one that had removed his father from his life forever.

Because it had been a choice he’d made. It had been fueled by his emotion, by his rage, and no matter how deserving those men had been … it was what it said about himself that made him even more certain that it must never happen again. That he must never be allowed to feel like that.

“Do you see?” he asked. “Do you see what kind of man I am?”

She nodded slowly. “Yes. You’re a good man, with a tragic past. And the things that happened weren’t your fault.”

“When I went back home the day of your attack, there was still blood all over me. I walked in, and my father was there. He looked at me, saw the evidence of what had happened. Then he smiled, and he laughed,” Matteo spat. “And he said to me, ‘Looks like you’re ready now. I always knew you were my son.’”

That moment was burned into his brain, etched into his chest. Standing there, shell-shocked by what had happened, by what he had done. By what had nearly happened to Alessia. And having his father act as though he’d made some sort of grand passage into manhood. Having him be proud.

“He was wrong, Matteo, you aren’t like him. You were protecting me, you weren’t trying to extort money out of those men. It’s not the same thing.”

“But it’s the evidence of what I’m capable of. My father had absolute conviction in what he did. He could justify it. He believed he was right, Alessia, do you understand that? He believed with conviction that he had a right to this money, that he had the right to harm those who didn’t pay what he felt he was owed. All it takes is a twist of a man’s convictions.”

“But yours wouldn’t be …”

“They wouldn’t be?” He almost told her then, but he couldn’t. The words he could never say out loud. The memory he barely allowed himself to have. “You honestly believe that? Everyone is corruptible, cara. The only way around it is to use your head, to learn what is right, and to never ever let your desire change wrong to right in your mind. Because that’s what desire does. My father’s desire for money, your father’s desire for power, made them men who will do whatever it takes to have those things. Regardless of who they hurt. And I will never be that man.”

“You aren’t that man. You acted to save me, and you did it without thought to your own safety. Can’t you see how good that is? How important?”

“I don’t regret what I did,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “I had a good reason to do it. But how many more good reasons could I find? If it suited me, if I was so immersed in my own needs, in my own desires, what else might I consider a good reason? So easily, Alessia, I could be like Benito was.”

“No, that isn’t true.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because you’re … good.”

He laughed. “You are so certain?”

“Yes. Yes, Matteo, I’m certain you’re good. Do you know what I remember from that day? The way you held me after. Do you know how long it had been since someone had tried to comfort me? Since someone had wiped away my tears? Not since my mother. Before that, I had done all of the comforting, and then when I needed someone? You were there. And you told me it would be okay. More than that, you made it okay. So don’t tell me you aren’t good. You are.”

He didn’t believe her, because she didn’t know the whole truth. But he wanted to hold her words tightly inside of him, wanted to cling to her vision of him, didn’t want her to see him any other way.

“I got blood on your face,” he said, his voice rough. “That day when I wiped your tears.”

She looked at him with those dark, beautiful eyes. “It was worth it.” She took a step toward him, taking his hand in hers. “Come on. Let’s go to bed.”

And he was powerless to do anything but follow her.

Alessia woke the next morning with a bone-deep feeling of contentment. She noticed because she’d never felt anything like it before. Had never felt like things were simply right in the world. That there wasn’t anything big left to accomplish. That she just wanted to stay and live in the moment. A moment made sweeter by the fact that there was nothing pressing or horrible looming in the future.

Then she became conscious of a solid, warm weight at her back, a hand resting on her bare hip. And she was naked, which was unusual because she normally slept in a nightgown.

A nightgown that was torn.

A smile stretched across her face and she rolled over to face Matteo. Her lover. Her husband. He was still sleeping, the lines on his forehead smoothed, his expression much more relaxed than it ever was when he was awake.

She leaned over and kissed his cheek, the edge of his mouth. She wanted him again. It didn’t matter how many times he’d turned to her in the middle of the night, she wanted him again. It didn’t matter if they had sex, or if he just touched her, but she wanted him. His presence, his kiss, him breathing near her.

This moment was one she’d dreamed of for half of her life. This moment with Matteo Corretti. Not with any other man.

She’d woken up next to him once before, but she hadn’t been able to savor it. Her wedding had been looming in the not-too-distant future and guilt and fear had had her running out the door before Matteo had woken up.

But not this morning. This morning, she would stay with him until he woke. And maybe she would share his bed again tonight. And every night after that. He was her husband, after all, and it only seemed right that they sleep together.

They were going to try to make a real marriage out of a legal one.

He’ll never love you.

She ignored the chill that spread through her veins when that thought invaded her mind. It didn’t matter. She wouldn’t dwell on it. Right now, she had a hope at a future she could be happy with. Matteo in her bed. In her life.

And she was having his baby. At some point, that would sink in and not just be a vague, sort of frightening, sort of wonderful thought.

But right now, she was simply lingering in the moment. Not wondering if Matteo’s feelings would ever change, not worrying about changing diapers.

He shifted then, his eyes fluttering open. “Good morning,” he said. So much different than his greeting the morning after their wedding.

“Good morning, handsome.”

“Handsome?”

“You are. And I’ve always wanted to say that.” To you.

“Alessia … you are something.”

“I know, right?” Matteo rolled over onto his back and she followed him, resting her breasts on his chest, her chin propped up on her hands. “Last night was wonderful.”

He looked slightly uncomfortable. Well, she imagined she wasn’t playing the part of blasé sophisticate very well, but in her defense … she wasn’t one. She was a women with very little sexual experience having the time of her life with a man who’d spent years as the star attraction in her fantasies. It was sort of hard to be cool in those circumstances.

He kissed her, cupping her chin with his thumb and forefinger. She closed her eyes and hummed low in her throat. “You’re so good at that,” she said when they parted. “I feel like I have a post-orgasm buzz. Is that a thing?”

He rolled onto his side again and moved into a sitting position, not bothering to cover himself with the blankets.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I can’t say I’ve ever experienced it.”

“Oh.” That hurt more than it should have. Not because she wanted him to have experienced post-orgasm buzz with anyone else, but because she wished he’d experienced it with her.

“What is it, cara?”

“Nothing.” She put her palm flat on his chest and leaned in, her lips a whisper from his. Then his phone started vibrating on the nightstand.

“I have to take that,” he said, moving away from her. He turned away from her and picked it up. “Corretti.” Every muscle in his back went rigid. “What the hell do you want, Alessandro?”

Alessia’s stomach rolled. Alessandro. She would rather not think about him right at the moment. She felt bad for the way things had ended. He’d been nice enough to her, distant, and there had been no attraction, but he’d been decent. And she’d sort of waited until the last minute to change her mind.

She got out of bed and started hunting for some clothes. There was nothing. Only a discarded red apron that she knew from last night didn’t cover a whole lot.

“I’m busy, you can’t just call a meeting and expect me to drop everything and come to you like a lapdog. Maybe you’re used to your family treating you that way, but you don’t get that deference from me.”

Alessia picked the apron up and put it on. It was better than nothing.

Matteo stood from the bed, completely naked, pacing the room. She stood for a moment and just watched. The play of his muscles beneath sleek, olive skin was about the sexiest thing she’d ever seen.

“Angelo?” The name came out like a curse. “What are you doing meeting with that bastard?” A pause. “It was a commentary on his character, not his birth. Fine. Noon. Salvatore’s.”

He pushed the end-call button and tossed the phone down on the bed, continuing to prowl the room. “That was Alessandro.”

“I got that.”

“He wants me to come to a meeting at our grandfather’s. With Angelo, of all people.”

“He is your cousin. He’s family, and so is Alessandro.”

“I have enough family that I don’t like. Why would I add any more?”

“You don’t even like your brothers?”

“No.”

“Why don’t you like your brothers?”

“Because if I ever do seem to be in danger of being sucked into the Corretti mind-set it’s when we start playing stupid business games.”

“But they’re your family.”

“My family is a joke. We’re nothing but criminals and selfish a*sholes who would sell each other out for the right price. And we’ve all done it.”

“So maybe someone needs to stop,” she said, her voice soft.

“I don’t know if we can.”

“Maybe you should be the first one?”

“Alessia …”

“Look, I know I’m not a business mind, and I know I don’t understand the dynamics of your family, but if you hate this part of it so much, then end it.”

“I need to get dressed.”

“I’ll go make breakfast,” she said. “I’m dressed for it.”

“You might give my staff a shock.”

“Oh—” her cheeks heated “—right, on second thought I might go back to my room.”

“That’s fine. And after that, you can ask Giancarlo if he would have your things moved into the master suite.”

“You want me to move in?”

“Yes. You tramping back to your room in an apron is going to get inconvenient quickly, don’t you think?”

Alessia felt her little glow of hope grow. “Yeah. Definitely it would be a little bit inconvenient. I would love to move into your room.”

“Good.” He leaned in and dropped a kiss on her lips. “Now, I have to get ready.”

When Salvatore had been alive, Matteo had avoided going to his grandparents’ home as often as he could. The old man was a manipulator and Matteo was rarely in the mood for his kind of mind games.

Still, whenever his grandmother had needed him, he had been there. They all had. This had long been neutral ground for that very reason. For Teresa. Which made it a fitting setting for what they were doing today.

Matteo walked over the threshold and was ushered back toward the study. He didn’t see his grandmother, or any of the staff. Only a hostile-looking Alessandro, and Angelo sitting in a chair, a drink in hand.

“What was so important that you needed to speak to me?”

“Sorry to interrupt the blissful honeymoon stage with your new bride. I assume she actually went through with your wedding,” Alessandro said.

“She did,” he said.

Angelo leaned back in one of the high-backed chairs, scanning the room. “So this is what old Corretti money buys. I think I prefer my homes.”

“We all prefer not to be here,” Matteo said. “Which begs the question again, why are we?”

“You married Alessia, I can only assume that means you’ve cut a deal with her father?”

“Trade in and out of Sicily is secured for the Correttis and the docklands are ours. The revitalization project is set to move forward.”

“Handy,” Angelo said, leaning forward, “because I secured a deal with Battaglia, as well.” Angelo explained the details of the housing development he was working on, eased by Battaglia’s connections.

“And what does that have to do with us?”

“Well,” Angelo continued, “it can have a lot to do with you. Assuming you want to take steps to unify the company.”

“We need to unify,” Alessandro said, his tone uncompromising. “Otherwise, we’ll just spend the next forty years tearing everything apart. Like our fathers did.”

Matteo laughed, a black, humorless sound. “You are my cousin, Alessandro, but I have no desire to die in a warehouse fire with you.”

“That’s why this has to end,” Alessandro said. “I have a proposal to make. One that will see everyone in the family with an equal share of power. It will put us in the position to make the company, the family, strong again. Without stooping to criminal activity to accomplish it.”

Alessandro outlined his plan. It would involve everyone, including their sisters, giving everyone equal share in the company and unifying both sides for the first time.

“This will work as long as this jackass is willing to put some of the extra shares he’s acquired back into the pot,” Alessandro said, indicating Angelo.

“I said I would,” Angelo responded, his acquiescence surprising. Equally surprising was the lack of venom and anger coming from the other man. Or maybe not. Matteo had to wonder if Angelo had met a woman. He knew just the kind of change a woman could effect on a man.

“There you are,” Alessandro said. “Are you with us?”

Matteo thought of the fire. Of the last time he’d seen his father. Of all that greed had cost. This was his chance to put an end to that. To start fresh. The past could never be erased, it would always be there. But the future could be new. For him. For Alessia. For their child.

He had too many other things in his life, good things, to waste any effort holding on to hatred he didn’t even have the energy to feel.

He extended his hand and Alessandro took it, shaking it firmly. Then Matteo extended his hand to Angelo and, for the first time, shook his hand. “I guess that means you’re one of us now,” he said to Angelo. “I don’t know if you should be happy about that or not.”

“I’ll let you know,” Angelo said. “But so far, it doesn’t seem so bad.”

“All right, where do I sign?”