A Hunger for the Forbidden(36)

And then he remembered seeing red.

He pushed off from the stage, standing and pacing, trying to relieve the restless energy moving through him. Trying to ease the tightness in his chest.

He hadn’t simply stopped when he’d gotten those men away from Alessia. Hadn’t stopped when they quit fighting back. He hadn’t stopped until Alessia had touched his back. And then he’d turned, a rock held tightly in his hand, ready to finish what he’d started. Ready to make sure they never got up again, ready to make sure they could never hurt another woman again. Any other woman, but most especially Alessia.

But then he’d looked into her eyes. Seen the fear. Seen the tears.

And he’d dropped his hand back to his side, letting the rock fall to the ground. Letting the rage drain from his body.

That was when he’d realized what he had done. What he had been about to do. And what it had done to Alessia to see it. More than that, it confirmed what he’d always known. That if he ever let himself go, if he ever allowed himself more than his emotionless existence, he would become a man he hated.

“I did more than save you,” he said. “A lot more.”

“You did what you had to.”

“You say it as if I gave it some thought. I didn’t. What I did was a reaction. Blind rage. As I was, if you were not there, I wouldn’t have ended it until they were dead.”

“You don’t know that.”

“That’s the thing, Alessia, I do know that. I know exactly what my next move was going to be, and trust me, it’s not something people get back up from.”

“I wish you could see what I saw.”

“And I wish like hell you hadn’t seen any of it,” he said, his voice rough.

“You were … I thought … I thought they were going to get away with it. That no one would hear me scream. No one would stop them. I thought that they would do it. And then you came and you didn’t let them. Do you have any idea what that meant to me? Do you know what you stopped?”

“I know what I stopped.”

“Then why do you regret it so much?”

“I don’t regret it, not like you mean.” He could remember his father’s face still, as he’d administered punishment to men in his debt. The calm. The absolute calm. But worse, he could remember his father’s face when someone had enraged him. Could remember how volatile, how beyond reason, he became in those situations.

And always, the old man had a smug sense that he had done what must be done. Full and complete justification for every action.

Just as Matteo had felt after Alessia’s attack. How he had felt after the fire.

“To me you were just a hero,” she said, her words soft.

They hit him hard, like a bullet, twisted inside of him, blooming outward and touching him everywhere, scraping his heart, his lungs. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

“It’s so much more complicated than that,” he said.

“Not to me. Not to the girl you rescued. You were like … You were every unfulfilled dream from my entire life, showing up when I needed you most. How can you not understand that?”

“Maybe that,” he said, “is our problem now. You know a dream, a fantasy, and I am not that man. I’m not the hero of the story.”

She shook her head. “You were the hero of my story that day. And nothing will change that.”

Coldness invaded him. “Is that what led you to my bed that night?”

She didn’t look away. “Yes.”

He swore, the word loud in the empty expanse of the ballroom. “So that was my thank-you?”

“No!” she said, the exclamation reverberating around them. “It’s not like that at all. Don’t make it into something like that it’s. No.”

“Then what, Alessia? Your fantasy of a knight?” Her cheeks turned pink and then she did look away. “Dio, is that what it is? You expected me to be your chivalrous knight in shining armor? What a disappointment this must be for you. You would have likely been better off with Alessandro.”

“I didn’t want Alessandro.”

“Only because you lied to yourself about who I am.”

“Who are you, then?” she asked. “You’re my husband. I think you should tell me.”

“I thought we went over this already.”

“Yeah, you gave me that internet bio of a rundown on who you are. We told each other things we already knew.”