Page 140 of Brutal Revenge

Perhaps that’s where most of my hurt stems from. Matteo forced anadmission out of me this morning that I had no plan to give him for months, but he never said it back.

I understand he cares about me. That perhaps he’s obsessed with how I taste and my moans when I come, but does what we have go deeper than lust?

Maybe I’m reading the signs all wrong and this is just a temporary infatuation that will burn out faster than it began.

That hurts more than anything.

Flicking the safety on, I yank off the ear protection, dump both it and the gun into a storage case, then storm out of the gun range before I do something more stupid than declare love to a man I hardly know.

The orchard stretches out before me. Mid-morning sunlight filters through the leaves of rows and rows of lemon trees, and the faint smell of citrus drifts on the breeze. It should be peaceful. It isn’t. Every step I take away from Matteo feels like walking through quicksand, and every breath is too tight.

I don’t understand why I’m angry. Matteo didn’t cheat, nor did he lie. He’s technically done nothing wrong. He was with those women before he even knew I existed, but no amount of logic soothes the burn.

When I reach the base of the orchard where the path splits, I freeze, unsure which way to go. One way will take me back to the house, and the other will push me deeper into the grove.

Neither is suitable since all I can picture here is Matteo with someone else. Laughing. Touching. Doing things I would prefer not to imagine but can’t stop seeing.

My deliberation is so all-encompassing I don’t hear Matteo approach until his breath brushes my ear as he whispers, “I’ll give you a ten-second head start.”

I jump so hard that I startle a flock of birds. “Are you insane?”

He slants in close, looking far too pleased with himself. “Is that even a question?”

Loathing the humor in his tone, I snap out, “There’s no way I’m playing cat and mouse with you in the orchard. I’d rather die.”

“Then I guess you’re going to be stuck with those images in your head, rather than replacing them with better ones.”

I scoff. “Better? Ha!”

He steps closer, leaving no doubt about his thoughts on his plan. He’s hard. “Better because I’m here… with you…my wife… seeing every perfect expression that crosses your gorgeous face.” He pinches my chin between his thumb and pinkie finger, forcing eye contact. “I wore a mask back then because I didn’t care what they looked like when they came, or if they caught their lower lip between their teeth when they struggled to hold back their excitement.” Smirking, he frees my lower lip from my menacing teeth. “But more than anything, it was because they also didn’t get to see me. It made it an emotionally void transaction.”

My anger wavers. Not a lot. Just enough for his following words to fully sink in.

“It wasnothinglike what we have. Nothing will ever compete with that,la mia tigrotta. You’ve ruined me for eternity.”

He inches back, his grin returning. “That’s why we’re going to create new memories at every available opportunity.” My breath hitches when he adds, “Ten.”

I cover his mouth with my hand. “No. I’m not playing.”

“Nine,” he murmurs around my fingers.

“Matteo, this isnotup for negotiation. I said no.”

“Eight.”

“Matteo—”

“Seven.”

“I mean it. Stop counting. I’m not running. You can’t catch me if I don’t run.”

“Six.”

I panic.

I’m not afraid of losing or worried about what will happen when he catches me. I’m terrified of what might occur if he doesn’t. If I don’t let go of my jealousy, I could ruin something magical.

So, understandably, when Matteo shouts, “Five,” my feet move before my brain catches up.