Chapter Seventy-Two
Gen moaned as she came awake. She stretched her legs out and pushed her hands above her head. She sighed in contentment and opened her eyes to the soft light of the morning filtering through the curtains. She blinked and smiled as the memories of the night before flowed through her mind like a montage in a romcom. Her muscles were pleasantly sore, she’d slept better than she had in years and the air smelled like fresh pastries.
She sat up and glanced around the room. In the haze that was the night she spent with Matteo, her focus had been singular. Now that she was alone… and sated she could look around the space with fresh eyes. His walls were a pale cream, translucent curtains billowed around the window he had opened by an inch. There were walls of books and paintings of Italian landscapes. It was warm, cozy, everything the outside world would never expect him to call home.
Gen threw her legs over the edge of the bed and walked to the closet that was cracked open. She looked inside and smiled at his rows of suits, dress shirts and finely pressed trousers. She ran her hands over the clothes and picked out a white button-down for her to put on. She spun for the door and halted. On the back side of the door, hanging on the hook was the dress she’d chosen for their date. She ran her fingers over the satiny fabric. She had completely forgotten the sales lady mentioned she would have it dropped off at the address associated with the card.
She left the dress on the door and slid her arms into the white shirt she’d picked out. She rolled the sleeves up as she walked into the hallway. She could hear Matteo humming from somewhere in the apartment. Her fingers traced over the walls, admiring the gorgeous paintings of the ocean in varying states of weather. She passed a bathroom, an office, and a room filled with indoor plants before the hallway opened up into the combined living room, kitchen, and dining area. She refused to look toward the kitchen where she could see him watching her out of the corner of her eye. Instead, she started in the living room where he had multiple couches and arm chairs of green, white and leather. More books sat along bookshelves between the tall, intricate windows looking out onto the small park across the street.
“Good morning, Beautiful,” Matteo whispered, as if he couldn’t wait a second longer for her to notice him.
Gen turned to find Matteo leaning against a kitchen island on the opposite end of the open space. She traced her eyes from his black sweatpants, over his bare chest to the five-o-clock shadow on his face. His unkempt hair took five years off his appearance and the boyish smile took off another two. His eyes wandered lazily over the shirt she’d thrown on and the skin exposed by the careless way she’d done the buttons.
“Good morning,” she said, walking toward him. “I smell something good.”
Matteo hummed. When she was within arms reach he tugged at her sleeve and pulled her into his chest. He brushed his knuckles over her cheek while she looked up into his eyes, showing golden-green thanks to the early morning light. He touched his knuckles to her chin, lifting her mouth enough for him to kiss her. By the time she pulled away, she was blushing.
“How did you sleep?” she asked, genuinely curious.
Matteo chuckled. “Not great.”
“No?”
He shook his head. “I couldn’t stop looking at you.”
Gen’s face burned hotter. “You can’t say stuff like that.”
“Why not? I love that color on you,” he admitted.
Gen pulled away from him and walked around the kitchen. The island was made of white marble as were the counters. There was a large stainless steel fridge, a gas range that would make Louise green with envy and enough herbs, spices and cooking ingredients lining the shelves to feed the French army without a single complaint.
“What are you making?” she asked, afraid to peek in the oven for fear of letting the heat out.
“Croissants,” he said, his hands in his pockets as he watched her move around his kitchen.
“That’s impressive.”
He shrugged. “I had time to kill. It’s your first day here. I wanted to impress.”
“I see you have my dress,” she remarked. “You could have returned it.”
“Why would I do that?” he asked. “I’ve been imagining you in it for over a week. You can wear it tonight when I take you out.”
“You’re taking me out, huh?” she asked with a raised brow.
“Yes, you owe me a date, remember? We still have a lot to discuss and learn about each other. Don’t we?”
Matteo moved around her and started wiping the flour from the island with a wet rag. Gen glimpsed her phone sitting on the dining table and walked toward it. She didn’t remember leaving her phone there. She picked it up and noticed a recently received text.
Paul: I look forward to proving you wrong.
Gen’s brow furrowed as she reread the text and unlocked her phone. She went to Paul’s messages and rolled her eyes as she scrolled through message after message of him begging her to pick up the phone, telling her how much he enjoyed dinner, how his mother kept asking about her. Then she saw something else and stifled a gasp. She clicked on the photo that had been sent to Paul from her phone. It was a photo of her… asleep on Matteo’s chest. In the photo a small smile graced her face while her hand sat curled under Matteo’s family crest. You couldn’t see Matteo’s face in the photo but the tattoo was an obvious indicator. She clicked out of the photo and read the attached messages.
Gen: I have a man tailing you now. He’s in seat 22A if you’d like to say hi. One message from me and you’re disemboweled before the flight touches down.
Gen: You heard what happened to the last man who touched her. What I did to him was child’s play when compared to what I have in store for you.
Gen: Come near her again and I’ll make the phone call that ends your pathetic life. She’s made her choice.
She turned around to find Matteo opening the oven to check on his croissants. She shook her head and walked toward the island. She sat down on one of the barstools while he pulled the croissants from the oven. He turned toward the island, forehead furrowed in concentration, as he placed the baking pan down on an oven mitt. She steepled her fingers as he carefully lifted one of the croissants to check the color at the bottom. The crease on his forehead eased and he gave a nod.
He stood back, grabbed his glass of milk and took a hefty gulp as if he were celebrating.
“So, tell me, Matteo, if cutting a man’s hand off is considered child’s play, what would you classify as ‘adult’?”
Matteo slowly lowered the milk glass. His eyes slid to her phone and back. He licked the milk moustache off his upper lip and set the glass down. He leaned forward over the island on his forearms and gave her a playful smirk.
“The slug who left bruises on your arms wasn’t the last man to touch you,” Matteo answered cryptically.
Gen narrowed her eyes as she thought. Then she remembered. She sat back and crossed her arms. “You said you killed them all.”
He nodded slowly, gauging her reaction. “I did.” He shrugged. “I just didn’t tell you one of them didn’t die in the warehouse.”
Gen’s eyes widened. “Who?”
“Rooster Ramirez. The man you called Two.”
Gen’s fingers strained under the pressure of her fist as she grappled with the dueling emotions within her: anger that Matteo didn’t give her the pleasure of doing it herself and the guilt for wishing she had been the one to end his life.
“What did you do with him?”
Matteo slid his arms back and braced himself against his palms for a second as he scrutinized her. He took a croissant from the pan and started to unravel it. “What would you have done?” he asked, his eyes still on the croissant he was deconstructing.
“I thought about it… a few times,” she admitted, causing his eyes to flick up. “At first I went for the obvious: his dick.” She sighed and shoved her hands in her lap. “Then I thought it was too cliche. I could be more creative. So, after they tried and failed to stomach taking my fingers off with a cigar cutter, I thought it would be much more gratifying to stand there and do it to them. Show them I could do what they were too pussy to do themselves.” She shrugged and shook herself off. “Then I’d go for the dick. Maybe take it a step further. Cut it off but keep them alive and without food for a few days and offer it to them as a meal. See if they’d eat it. I don’t know.”
After a few moments of silence she glanced up to find Matteo with a sinister smile on his face. His eyes were glazed over as if he was picturing it in his head. The smile twitched higher and his knuckles whitened against the counter top. Gen cleared her throat, breaking him out of his trance. He shook his head and chuckled darkly. He pulled his phone from his pocket, widened his stance and started typing, chuckling to himself every few seconds and shaking his head.
“What are you doing?” Gen asked, unable to hide her curiosity.
“Telling Frankie what you said,” he admitted, looking up at her for a second before shaking his head and going back to the task at hand. “He’s going to love it.”
“Is he the one you have tailing Paul?”
“No,” Matteo said, setting his phone aside. “I needed someone who could blend in so I sent Thomas.”
“What do you plan to do with him?” she asked.
Matteo came around the side of the island and spun her to face him. He grabbed her by the waist and set her up on the island counter before dipping his head to kiss her chest.
“What would you like me to do with Paul, Weakness? A bit of the same?"
Genevieve sighed. “I’m tired of him but… I don’t want to get a call from his mom saying he’s missing. He’s a sleaze bag but I don’t want to do that to Betty. Maybe…” She paused.
“Tell me,” he whispered against her throat.
“His reputation is everything.”
“Consider it ruined,” he whispered against her ear.
“And his money…” she gasped as his teeth bit her earlobe.
“Gone.”
“You’d do all that… because he kissed me?”
Matteo sat back. “I’d take out his eyes and tie him to a railroad track if you asked. But I’ll settle for letting him wallow in his misery…for now.”
Without breaking eye contact, Gen reached over to snag a croissant. She tore a piece off the croissant in her hand and put it in her mouth. Her eyes closed and she moaned at the butter taste. “Wow, that tastes good,” she whispered, looking down in shock at the pastry.
Matteo’s head dipped. He bit into her shoulder and licked the skin there. “Mmm, very.”
Gen giggled as he pushed her shoulders back until she was laying flat against the island. While she plucked at the croissant, he undid the buttons of the dress shirt and trailed kisses down her stomach. When he got to the junction of her legs she set the croissant aside and ran her hands through his hair. The first time his tongue flicked out, she let out a satisfied moan, officially putting Paul out of her mind for good.