Page 97 of Brutal Revenge

I change out of the dress I barely wore, then brush my teeth before returning to the main part of the bedroom. I don’t think I’ll sleep. The chair in the corner of the room isn’t overly comfortable, but my exhaustion from a sleepless night the night before eventually drags me under.

When I wake, sunlight spills across the floorboards, and my phone’s annoying chirp announces that I’m late.

Panic shoots through me as I rush out of the room, my heart racing. Antonio scheduled the purity test, which makes my skin crawl just thinking about, for ten. It’s already ten past ten. I should have been there by now.

While raking my fingers through my hair, trying to tame the unruly knots, I rush down the hallway. The thuds of my bare feet are silent, so I have no issues hearing raised voices when I approach the room where the appointment is taking place.

One of them is unmistakable.

Matteo.

“I don’t care what the contract says.” His low tone sends a shiver darting down my spine. “She’s either examined by a female doctor or no one.”

My breath catches. I didn’t know the doctor undertaking the exam would be male. I had no idea I would have to strip naked and let a strange man examine my private parts—and god knows where else.

Panic claws at my throat. The idea of a stranger—even one with a medical degree—touching me like that locks up my body.

I grip the doorframe, steadying myself, as Matteo continues arguing. Even though he has every reason to let my contract play out as written, he doesn’t.

He fights.

Hard.

He bombards the doctor with threats so believable that I wouldn’t be surprised to see the doctor leave the room in soiled pants.

Eventually, the male doctor relents. As he hurries out, he stammersthat he will arrange for a female colleague to attend my appointment on his behalf. “She’ll be here shortly.”

I’m so relieved that I don’t dart out of view before Matteo sees me. He’s standing in the middle of a room that looks exactly like a doctor’s office, chest rising and falling with the force of his anger.

When I step inside, mindful that no amount of anger should harness manners, he turns his head just enough to look at me. His bloodshot eyes flick over me in silent assessment before he moves to a bench seat near the window and sits down.

“You don’t need to stay.” My voice is firmer than I intend, still hitched with jealousy. “I’m sure the blonde draped over you last night is awaiting your return.”

He huffs out a short, irritated sound but doesn’t nibble at the bait I threw out.

He doesn’t even look at me when he replies, “I’ll stay until I know it’s a female doctor examining you.”

I want to argue, tell him to leave, that I don’t need him, but I fear what might happen if he’s not here. There are many frightening traditions in the Turkish mafia, such as the man I give my virginity to is the man I’ll be forced to marry. The rules have shaped my life and are the sole reason I’m still a virgin.

Blanketing my pride with a flat, toothless grin, I head for the examination table. My hands tremble when I spot the blue gown I need to change into before the doctor arrives.

“There’s a bathroom over there.” Arms still folded over his chest, Matteo nudges his head to a door next to the examination table.

With a quick nod, I race into the bathroom. I don’t recognize the girl peering back at me in the vanity mirror. She isn’t the strong woman who tossed around a mafia man like a rag doll only forty-eight hours ago. She’s a shell of the woman she needs to be to keep the promise she made to her best friend when she laid her to rest.

This needs to stop.

The whining needs to stop.

Hattie deserves better—and in all honesty, so do I.

After dressing in the gown thinner than a tissue, I re-enter the room, sit on the examination table, and wait for the female doctor to arrive.

Matteo stays in the corner, silent and brooding.

Guarding me even when he won’t look at me.

I don’t know what hurts more—that he’s here or that he’s here like this.