A Hunger for the Forbidden(59)



“Buongiorno.”

Alessia turned and saw Matteo standing in the doorway, his hair a mess, as though he’d run his fingers through it a few too many times, his tie undone, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar. His jacket had been discarded somewhere else.

“Hello, Matteo. Did you have a good day at work?”

“I didn’t go to work,” he said.

His admission hit her hard. “You didn’t?”

“No. I was running again. Like I did the day of your first wedding. That was what I did, you know. You asked me to go to the airport, and I nearly went. But in the end I was too angry at you. For lying. For being ready to marry him. So I went to my house in Germany, mainly because no one knows about it. And I did my best to be impossible to reach, because I didn’t want to deal with any accusations. I didn’t want to hear from my family. And I didn’t want to hear from you, because I knew you would be too much of a temptation for me to resist. That if I read your emails or listened to your messages, I would want you back. That I would come back to you.”

“So you hid instead?”

“It was easier. And today I thought I might do the same thing. Because I don’t like to see you cry. I don’t like seeing you sad, knowing that it’s my fault.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Mainly I just drove,” he said, as if she hadn’t spoken. “A little too fast, but that’s what a Ferrari is for.”

“I suppose so.”

“I’ve come to a decision.”

“Wait, before you say anything, I want to say something.”

“Why is it your turn?”

“Because you left this morning before I could finish. All right, not really, I didn’t know what I was going to say then. But I do now.”

“And what are you going to say?”

“I love you, Matteo. I think, in some ways, I always have. But more over the past months, more still when you told me your story. I am in love with you, and I want you to love me back. I’m tired of not having everything, and I think you and I could have everything. But you have to let us.”

“Alessia … I can’t.”

“You can, you just have to.… you have to …”

“What? I have to forget a lifetime of conditioning? I have to ignore the fact that my losing control, that my embracing emotion, might have horrible, devastating consequences, not just for you, but for our child? I have to ignore what I know to be true about myself, about my blood, and just … let it all go? Do you want me to just forget that I’m the sort of man who walked away and left his father to die in a burning warehouse? To just take that off like old clothes and put on something new? It wouldn’t work. Even if it did it would be dangerous. I can’t forget. I have to keep control.”

“I don’t believe you,” she said.

“You don’t believe me? Did you not listen to what I told you? Did you not understand? All of that, breaking that man’s legs, leaving my father, that was what I am capable of when I have the most rigid control of myself. What I did to those men who attacked you? That blind rage? I didn’t know what I was doing. I had no control, and if you hadn’t stopped me … I would have killed them. I would have killed them and never felt an ounce of guilt for it.”

“So you would have killed rapists, am I supposed to believe that makes you a bad, horrible, irredeemable person? That you would have done what you had to do to save a young girl?”

“That isn’t the point,” he said. “As long as I control it … as long as I don’t feel, I won’t do something I regret. I won’t do something beyond myself. Even with control, do you see what I can do? What I have done? I can never afford to let it go. I can’t afford—”

“I don’t believe it. That isn’t it. You’re running scared, Matteo. You aren’t afraid of losing control, you’re afraid that if you feel you’re going to have to face the guilt. The grief. You’re hiding from the consequences of your actions. Hiding behind this blessed wall of cold and ice, but you can’t live there forever.”

“Yes, I can.”

“No, you can’t. Because at least for the sake of our child, our baby, Matteo, you have to break out of it.”

“Has it ever once occurred to you that I don’t want to?” he roared. “I don’t want to feel, Alessia, I damn well don’t. I don’t want to face what I’ve done. To feel the full impact of my life. Of what was done to me. I don’t want it. I don’t need it. And I don’t want you.”

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