A Hunger for the Forbidden(47)

Then he’d seen Alessia. And he had allowed her a place inside him, a place that was warm and bright, one that he could retreat to. He saw happiness through her eyes when he watched her. His attraction to her not physical, but emotional. He let a part of himself live through her.

And that day when he’d seen those men attacking her, the monster inside him had met up against passion that had still existed in the depths of him, and had combined to create a violence that was beyond his control. One that frightened him much more than that moment of controlled violence in his father’s presence had.

More even than that final act, the one that had removed his father from his life forever.

Because it had been a choice he’d made. It had been fueled by his emotion, by his rage, and no matter how deserving those men had been … it was what it said about himself that made him even more certain that it must never happen again. That he must never be allowed to feel like that.

“Do you see?” he asked. “Do you see what kind of man I am?”

She nodded slowly. “Yes. You’re a good man, with a tragic past. And the things that happened weren’t your fault.”

“When I went back home the day of your attack, there was still blood all over me. I walked in, and my father was there. He looked at me, saw the evidence of what had happened. Then he smiled, and he laughed,” Matteo spat. “And he said to me, ‘Looks like you’re ready now. I always knew you were my son.’”

That moment was burned into his brain, etched into his chest. Standing there, shell-shocked by what had happened, by what he had done. By what had nearly happened to Alessia. And having his father act as though he’d made some sort of grand passage into manhood. Having him be proud.

“He was wrong, Matteo, you aren’t like him. You were protecting me, you weren’t trying to extort money out of those men. It’s not the same thing.”

“But it’s the evidence of what I’m capable of. My father had absolute conviction in what he did. He could justify it. He believed he was right, Alessia, do you understand that? He believed with conviction that he had a right to this money, that he had the right to harm those who didn’t pay what he felt he was owed. All it takes is a twist of a man’s convictions.”

“But yours wouldn’t be …”

“They wouldn’t be?” He almost told her then, but he couldn’t. The words he could never say out loud. The memory he barely allowed himself to have. “You honestly believe that? Everyone is corruptible, cara. The only way around it is to use your head, to learn what is right, and to never ever let your desire change wrong to right in your mind. Because that’s what desire does. My father’s desire for money, your father’s desire for power, made them men who will do whatever it takes to have those things. Regardless of who they hurt. And I will never be that man.”

“You aren’t that man. You acted to save me, and you did it without thought to your own safety. Can’t you see how good that is? How important?”

“I don’t regret what I did,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “I had a good reason to do it. But how many more good reasons could I find? If it suited me, if I was so immersed in my own needs, in my own desires, what else might I consider a good reason? So easily, Alessia, I could be like Benito was.”

“No, that isn’t true.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because you’re … good.”

He laughed. “You are so certain?”

“Yes. Yes, Matteo, I’m certain you’re good. Do you know what I remember from that day? The way you held me after. Do you know how long it had been since someone had tried to comfort me? Since someone had wiped away my tears? Not since my mother. Before that, I had done all of the comforting, and then when I needed someone? You were there. And you told me it would be okay. More than that, you made it okay. So don’t tell me you aren’t good. You are.”

He didn’t believe her, because she didn’t know the whole truth. But he wanted to hold her words tightly inside of him, wanted to cling to her vision of him, didn’t want her to see him any other way.

“I got blood on your face,” he said, his voice rough. “That day when I wiped your tears.”

She looked at him with those dark, beautiful eyes. “It was worth it.” She took a step toward him, taking his hand in hers. “Come on. Let’s go to bed.”