“What the fuck did you just say?” he whispered, snapping to a stop and turning back to me.
"That I don't want another round?" I asked, flinching when his steps prowled toward me. His hand touched the roof of my car, his upper body leaning down to put his face level with the window as his wide brown eyes met mine.
"Your name. What did you say your name was?" His voice raised a bit, not to the point of yelling, but enough that I knew he meant serious business.
"Ivory Torres?" My voice was barely a whisper, and I felt a piece of me shrivel when, yet another strange man recognized my name in connection with Matteo.
What the fuck had I gotten myself into coming here?
“The Ivory?”
“Umm, well I suppose so. It's not exactly a common name, is it?” I grimaced with an uncomfortable chuckle.
He turned his back on me without another word, going to the guard booth and picking up his cell. I ran a hand through my hair aggressively, feigning casualness as I did my best to eavesdrop.
Because you're damn right I fucking eavesdropped. I was surprised I didn’t stick my head out the damn window.
“Yeah, boss. Ivory Torres is here for you.” A pause of silence while the man on the other end of the phone spoke. “You got it.” He ended the call with a touch of his finger to the screen and hit the button to open the gates. They creaked open slowly, acting every bit as heavy as they looked. I ran my hand through my hair again, biting the corner of the inside of my lip and losing some of the nerve that fueled me to drive there. “Go on through, drive right up in front of the house at the circle and someone will show you where to go.”
“I—okay.” My hands went to the steering wheel as my eyes fixated on that gate. Even when it opened fully, I didn't shift my car to drive.
“I’m sorry, Miss Torres. Meant no disrespect to you. You won’t get any going forward.” I turned wide eyes his way finally.
Because there was zero chance, I'd be seeing him again.
Fuck that.
“I—okay,” I repeated, putting my car in drive and going through the gate in a daze.
I was in trouble.
I was in so much trouble. My Uncle would kill me, if he ever found out I was here. My father would kill me too. What the fuck had I been thinking driving up to the house of someone who had criminal connections like I was invincible?
Fuck.
I thought about turning around and escaping the way I’d come, but the gate closed behind me and running away now that Matteo knew I was there felt humiliating. I drove my car up the rest of the driveway, feeling my eyes bug out when the house itself came into sight. It was massive, in a way that was unnecessary—ridiculous even. An intriguing mixture of white stone and grey brick, I felt minuscule in my tiny car. Pulling up in front of the house where the guard at the gate had directed me, I found an older gentleman standing on the stone steps with a bright smile on his face. I shifted into park slowly, taking a deep breath and releasing it on a sigh as I turned off the ignition. Grabbing my purse out of the passenger seat, I opened my door and unfolded myself as gracefully as I could manage. The last thing I needed to do was flash someone my goodies at Matteo's house. I was getting the distinct feeling that was not the kind of man I was looking to attract.
“Miss Torres, I presume?” a man greeted as I shut the door and stared in shock at the house. “My name is Donatello. I manage Mr. Bellandi's home. If you'll follow me, he's asked that I see you to his office.”
I nodded wordlessly, letting him lead me in the huge dark wood doors and into the sprawling mansion. I’d obviously known he was wealthy, but I’d never imagined this. I knew I was stalling. But I couldn't stop my eyes from darting around the foyer in awe. I'd never seen wealth like this before, let alone stepped inside a home of that caliber. The floors were tiled in Mediterranean tile; the walls painted off white with huge archways connecting the rooms in the place of doors.
"Best not to keep him waiting," he said with a polite smile.
I nodded, picking up my pace as I followed him. A curving staircase led upstairs, but we bypassed that in favor of stepping around it to a narrower archway that led into a hall. “Matteo still lives here?” I asked. I couldn’t see that. We were a decade out of high school. The man nodded. “I never got the impression he got along with his father,” I added, deciding there was no harm in exposing how little I truly knew about the man of the house.
“His father passed some time ago. The estate is much more practical for security reasons than the Penthouse in the city where he lived prior, and so he moved back here after his death.” He didn't seem hesitant to reveal Matteo's personal information to me, and I had to wonder if that was common. Surely, a man of Matteo's stature would be interested in confidentiality.
I agreed, thinking back to the gate and the walls surrounding the property. I had a feeling it was nearly as secure as the White House. We stopped in front of two impressive, heavy wood doors. With a smile back at me, he tapped his fingers against it twice. I drew in a shuddering breath, hating the audible way it displayed my fear of what might wait for me behind those doors. Once again, I questioned if I was making a mistake. Perhaps I was better off not knowing, not seeing, not feeling again.
Because the truth was, I had felt little of anything since he'd broken me.
“Enter,” a deep, masculine voice returned, following Donatello's knock. My heart stalled, having thought never to hear that voice again. It had changed, deepened, become more commanding as if there was almost no trace of the boy, I'd loved remaining. And yet somehow, my soul recognized it on some deep level that nearly brought tears to my eyes.
After all the time that had passed, just the sound of his voice through a closed door was enough to bring me to my knees.
Donatello opened both doors with a flourish, waving me forward with his hand and a bow of his head. I took a deep, steadying breath before I managed to will my feet to move into the room.
My eyes darted around the opulent space, reflecting on the way the decor in that house made me feel cheap in my forest green button up and short white petal skirt with silver rivulets all over it. I felt out of place and realized I'd never belonged in Matteo's world.
No wonder he dumped my ass.
At least my heels made me feel classy, looking stunning and strappy all wrapped around my ankles in forest green suede against the dark hardwood floor. “Ivory.” There was a smile in his voice, and I turned to the left where the room curved to find him staring at me from behind his desk, pen still in hand. Though his head tilted down to look at the paper he'd been writing on, his eyes fixated on me with startling intensity.
The breath whooshed out of me, confronted with that impossibly handsome face. In high school, he’d been all about clean edges, the blond-haired All-American boy next door with the stunning blue eyes and boy muscles packed onto his frame however he could. A decade later his hair was darker, browner than blond, and it only made those piercing azure eyes of his seem brighter. His once clean-cut face was covered in some cross between stubble and a very short, well-groomed beard. He’d bulked up, his lean frame a thing of the past with no issues packing on muscle now that he’d aged, that much was visible even covered by the designer suit he wore. He was everything he’d been in high school, intimidating and unattainable, but now he was just more. The pen fell to the paper in front of him with a clatter that drew me from my stare, and I shook myself a bit. “Ivory,” he whispered again, standing with a smile and walking around the desk to approach me. His lips found my cheek in greeting, and I winced when the contact sent a shiver through me. “You’re as beautiful as I always knew you would be.”