"Fine," he grunted. He turned, striding out the front door without another word.
"Well, that could have gone better," Sadie said.
I nodded.
"Yep."
✽✽✽
How was it I didn't own a single pair of bummy sweatpants?
Sadie would stage an intervention if she found out.
The only yoga pants I owned were leggings and hugged my legs and butt way too much for me to face Matteo in. In all fairness though, I hated pants. When I was at home, I lived in skirts, dresses, or pajama shorts. I eventually tracked down a pair of pajama pants my mom had given me in one of her tirades about being dressed appropriately for a home invasion. Because wearing pants instead of booty shorts would protect me if someone decided he wanted to rape me. That said, I did like the fabric, big watercolor flowers on a black background with a wide, grey waistband and they were loose and comfy.
For pants.
I'd shoved an old, loose grey tee over my head, kind of hating the way it hung off one shoulder. But it was the baggiest shirt I owned, so it would do. My trusty slippers were stuck on my feet, and I was far too unsettled to relax. Smaug had taken up residence on my shoulder, just hanging out and enjoying the ride while I paced in a mimic of Duke's earlier movements.
My phone chimed with a text, and I unlocked the screen to see a message from Duke asking if Matteo had shown. A glance at the clock confirmed it wasn't even seven yet. Typing out a quick response, I did my best to keep my snark out of it.
"I know, I know," I said to Smaug as I walked to the kitchen and grabbed a bottled water out of the fridge. I chugged the contents, feeling thirsty.
Who was I kidding? My mouth was the Sahara.
"I'm being ridiculous. There's no way he’ll show.” I shoved my hair into a bun on top of my head just to be safe, careful not to dislodge Smaug. He glared at me although I'd taken care. "Don't look at me like that, Mister," I scolded him.
I jumped at the sound of the doorbell, glancing at the clock on my stove with wide eyes. Smaug's little claws dug into my skin through the t-shirt, and he looked at me—an echoing panic in his adorable little face.
Seven on the dot.
"Coincidence, right?" I asked, swallowing and making my way to the door. A glance through the peephole confirmed it was, in fact, Matteo Bellandi standing on my step and looking as breathtaking in a black suit as he had the day before. If I hadn't known better, I'd have sworn Smaug shrugged his shoulders at me. I backed away from the door, wondering if there was any way to hide the fact that I was home.
I could just not answer the door, right?
"Open the door, Angel," his hard voice demanded, an unmistakable edge to his tone.
"I don't think I will," I shouted through the door, clapping a hand over my mouth as soon as the words left me.
So much for that.
"Ivory, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. It's your choice." Something thudded against the door, and I peeked out to see him leaning against the frame on one hand, his face just above the peephole.
"What's the hard way?" I whispered, and I fully thought he wouldn't answer.
"I pick the lock," he didn't hesitate to say, and I blanched.
"You wouldn't dare! That's breaking and entering!" I backed away from the door, realizing it might not matter that much to him if bank robbers feared him.
Fuck. I totally should have gone to Duke's.
I hated being wrong.
I really, really hated it.
"I'll call the police!" I shouted, nabbing my phone off the island of the kitchen and hurrying back to the door. The sound of metal scraping on metal sounded through the door, and I flung it open on a gasp. Two odd little metal sticks stuck out of the deadbolt, and I barely had time to turn amazed eyes Matteo's way before he backed me into the house. Slamming the door shut behind him, he advanced until my ass hit the console table next to the foot of the stairs where I kept my keys and such. He ripped the phone out of my hand, glancing at the screen where Duke's text was open and tossed it onto the table behind me. I swallowed when he put his hands on the wall next to my head, caging me in.
"If you think the cops are dumb enough to get between me and my woman, think again. There isn’t anybody in this world who will save you from me." I stared up at him, wincing as Smaug's claws continued to dig into me.
Safe to say, he wasn't a fan.
Matteo let his arms drop from the wall, his eyes giving me a once over, and he pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and sighed as his eyes caught on Smaug. "Ivory, the fuck is that?" The exasperation in his voice was a little too like Duke's every time I brought Smaug to his house.
"He's a gecko, and his name is Smaug," I objected, reaching up with one hand and holding it out for the lizard. He gladly abandoned his favorite perch, wiggling his way into my hand. I ran my thumb over the back of his head to soothe him, before turning and walking away from Matteo in favor of setting Smaug in his tank where he'd be safe from whatever storm was brewing. As soon as I had the lid on, Matteo spoke.
"Good. Now go get dressed. Our reservation is for eight."
I turned to him, my reflection shining off the stainless steel of my fridge in the kitchen. "Are you insane?"
He shrugged, seeming to genuinely consider the answer. "It's possible."
"Get out," I scoffed, shaking my head and moving around him to get to the front door. I swung it open quickly, gesturing him out the door. When he just raised a brow at me and didn't move, I sighed to keep myself from stomping my foot.
"I made reservations at Vecchio," he said pointedly. I knew in that moment he'd done his research on me. The only time a man would rub reservations at the hottest new restaurant in town in a woman's face was if he knew she was a food-addict.
I eyed him suspiciously. "They're booked six months out," I argued, crossing my arms over my chest. "Did you blow off some other girl to harass me into going with you?"
He chuckled. "No, sweetheart. It is safe to say that I do not take women to dinner."
"Oh well, keep with that tradition then, yeah?"
"I know you want to go. I can see the gears turning in that pretty head of yours." His voice lightened to genuine amusement as he watched me struggle to ignore that temptation. Everyone talked about that place, but it was impossible to get in.
"Unless you're willing to let me take someone else there and use your reservation? I'll pass," I hissed, and the amusement fled those harsh features.
"You go to dinner with another man, and we will have a very, very serious problem, Cara mia." I flinched back at the menace in his tone and felt my brow furrow as I stared at him. There really was no trace of the boy I'd loved in the man in front of me.
And something about that drained all the fight right out of me. I fought back tears, unwilling to let him see just how much he still affected me. "Please, just leave," I begged.
He was indifferent to my deflation, or he just didn't care. He stepped forward, crowding into my space and shoved the door closed again. "Go get dressed," he whispered, and I thought I might have caught a moment of regret in his blue eyes as he looked down at me more gently.