Page 85 of Brutal Revenge

“For me?” I ask, fanning my hand across my chest, shocked about a second gift in one day.

Bouncing on her toes, she nods.

Under her mother’s watchful eye, who stands in the doorway, I carefully unwrap my gift. Inside is a sketchpad and a box of colored pencils.

My throat tightens. “Camille… this is so sweet.” I crouch down to her level. “Thank you. Did you want to draw now? I have time.”

Her eyes shoot to Lucia. Her father isn’t here to translate, but Lucia has no issues deciphering the disappointment on her face.

“She’d love to draw with you, but she has dance class soon. We were on our way out when she spotted you, and she couldn’t wait a second longer to give you the gift she purchased for you.”

I smile at Lucia in thanks for the translation before I return my attention to Camille. “Oh… that’s why you’re wearing a tutu? I thought you were just wearing it because it’s super pretty. I’d wear it all the time if I had a tutu that nice.”

Lucia’s balled hand shoots up to brace her chest when Camille giggles softly before she twirls on the spot to fan out her tutu. I hardly know the little girl standing before me, but I’m certain every giggle she gives is a treasure worth hoarding.

As Lucia gathers Camille’s dance bag from a room next to her playroom, I hug her to thank her for the gift before following them out. Sketchpad tucked under my arm, I wave them goodbye from the foyer before climbing the stairwell that leads to the west wing of the mansion.

The hallway is quiet as I walk back toward my room, but the earlier tension still buzzes under my skin. It doubles the length of my strides and makes my fatigue nonexistent.

I don’t think I have it in me not to throw myself at Matteo if he does one more kind thing today.

I’m a mere woman, not a saint.

Halfway to our room, voices reach my ears. I freeze. Not intentionally, more instinctively, like my body knows something important is about to happen before my mind catches up.

“He took her to the gym?” Elio says, disbelief thick in his voice.

“Yeah,” Nico replies. “Taught her self-defense.”

There’s a beat of silence before Elio breaks it with an unsteady tone. “Maybe he was serious when he said he wasn’t interested in keeping her after the ruse was over.”

My heart stops as my happiness circles the drain.

Nico snorts, but that is the start and end of his reply.

He leaves the floor to Elio.

“If he wanted her, why teach her how to protect herself? It’s pointless unless he’s planning to ship her back to her piece-of-shit ex.” Elio lowers his voice, but I still hear him. “It’s also suspicious that the gym is directly across from the bakery Antonio frequents. Anyone would swear Matteo wants this over sooner rather than later. He’s flaunting her in front of Antonio even more than the schedule she gave him.”

My stomach flips when Nico rejoins the conversation. “He also said they didn’t fuck.” Hepffts.“There’s no way I could stop if I made the woman I want scream my name.”

“He stopped because he knew Giovanni was right. Antonio would have seen straight through their lies if she had arrived at the event looking how she did at lunch.”

Nico hums in agreement. “One climax had Antonio frothing at the mouth. But…”

I flatten myself against the wall, my heart pounding so loudly that I can’t hear what he says next. This can’t be right. Matteo didn’t make me come to provoke Antonio. He was on his knees, apologizing. It was completely unrelated to Antonio, right?

My heart screams yes, but my head is on the opposing team.

It all makes sense.

Too much sense.

He made me pliable under his touch, and then I acted like an idiot who believes an orgasm fixes everything. I was jealous and possessive, and in minutes, I pushed aside plans years in the making.

I feel stupid. So stupid.

I thought our connection was more than strategy, that the cake represented something meaningful. I thought he taught me self-defense because he saw me—the real me, not the version I’m supposed to show—and he cared enough not to want to see me get hurt.