“What? I—” I blurted but Father’s slap silenced me again. It was harder than before and his ring caught my lower lip. Pain burst through my face and warm liquid trickled down my chin.
“That’s enough,” Aria said, and suddenly Luca was pulling her back and Matteo was gripping my arm tightly and leading me out of the room and down the hall toward the bathroom. I wasn’t sure if it was the shock of what had happened or the speed in which Matteo dragged me away, but I didn’t fight him, only stumbled along, not even bothering to stop blood from dripping onto my shirt from my split lip. Matteo shoved me into the bathroom, then entered after me and locked the door.
I stared at my image in the mirror. Blood covered my chin and more blood dripped from the cut in my lower lip and onto my shirt. My lip was already swelling, but I was happy to find my eyes dry, no sign of a single tear. Matteo appeared behind me, towering over me, his dark eyes scanning my messed-up face. Without his trademark shark-grin and the arrogant amusement, he looked almost tolerable.
“You don’t know when to shut up, do you?” he murmured. His lips turned into a smirk, but it looked somehow wrong. There was something unsettling in his eyes. The look in them reminded me of the one I’d seen when he’d dealt with the Russian captives in the basement.
“Neither do you,” I said then winced at the pain shooting through my lip.
“True,” he said in a strange voice. Before I had time to react, he gripped my hips, turned me around and hoisted me onto the washstand. “That’s why we are perfect for each other.”
Back was the arrogant smile. The bastard stepped between my legs.
“What are you doing?” I hissed, sliding back from the edge of the washstand to bring more distance between us while pushing against his chest.
He didn’t budge, too strong for me. The smile got bigger. He grabbed my chin and tilted my head up. “I want to take a look at your lip.”
“I don’t need your help now. Maybe you should have stopped my father from busting my lip in the first place.” The taste of blood, sweet and coppery, made my stomach turn and reminded me of darker images.
“Yes. I should have,” he said darkly, his thumb lightly touching my wound as he parted my lips. “If Luca hadn’t held me back, I would have plunged my knife into your father’s fucking back, consequences be damned. Maybe I still will.”
He released my lip and pulled a long curved knife from the holster below his jacket before twisting it in his hand with a calculating look on his face. Then his eyes flickered up to me. “Do you want me to kill him?”
God, yes. I shivered at the sound of Matteo’s voice. I knew it was wrong, but after what Father had said today, I wanted to see him begging for mercy and I knew Matteo was capable of bringing anyone to their knees, and it excited me. That was exactly why I’d wanted out of this life. I had the potential for cruelty, and this life was the reason for it. “That would mean war between Chicago and New York,” I said simply.
“Seeing your father bleed to death at my feet would be worth the risk. You are worth it.”
I wasn’t sure if he was joking or not, but this was getting too…serious. I wanted to kiss him for his words, but it was wrong. Matteo was wrong. Everything was. Not too long ago I’d watched Sid getting killed and I knew it might just as well have been Matteo who’d pulled the trigger. I couldn’t let him mess with my mind. He was too good at it.
I shoved his shoulder again. “I need to take care of my lip. If you have nothing better to do than to stand around, get out of my way.”
He still didn’t budge and he was simply too strong to move him. His muscles flexed under his shirt, making me wonder how he would look without it. Wrong. So wrong.
He set his knife down on the counter beside me.
“You shouldn’t leave sharp objects in my reach when I’m pissed.”
“I think I’ll take the risk,” he said, bracing his palms to both sides of my thighs, leaving me no choice but to lean back to bring some distance between us.
“Stop it,” I growled because he smelled too nice and I felt my body wanting to move closer then winced again. I brought my hand up and felt my lower lip. It seemed to have swollen even more and it still hadn’t stopped bleeding.
Matteo pulled my hand away. “You’ll make it worse. It needs stitches. Should I call for a doctor?”
“No,” I said quickly. I didn’t want any more people to find out, and most of all I didn’t want my bastard of a father to find out he’d managed to split my lip. “I’ll do it myself.”
Matteo raised his eyebrows. He took a step back and did a quick scan of the cupboards before he came up with a medical kit. He threaded a needle and handed it to me. I shifted on the washstand to see myself in the mirror then brought the needle up to my lip. I’d never stitched anyone up, least of all myself. I hated needles. I even had to close my eyes when I got a shot. Matteo was watching me and I didn’t want to look like a wimp to him, so I nudged my lip with the tip of the needle, jumped from pain and pulled back again.
“Fuck. That hurts like hell.” I flushed then glared at Matteo. “Go on. Laugh.”
Matteo snatched the needle out of my hand. “This isn’t going to work.”
“I know,” I muttered. “Can you do it?”
“It’ll be painful. I don’t have anything against the pain.”
“Have you ever stitched yourself up?”
“A few times.”
“Then I can handle you stitching me up. Just do it.”
He handed me Tylenol. “Pop a few of them. They won’t help with the immediate pain but they’ll be good later.”
“Vodka works too.”
“I guess you found out in your months as a fugitive,” he said with a grin that bordered on scary. He hadn’t asked too many questions yet. Not even about other guys besides Sid. Maybe he didn’t want to know, and I wouldn’t tell him anyway. It was bad enough that one innocent had lost his life because of me. I wouldn’t tell him the names of the other guys I’d kissed so he’d kill them too. Death was too harsh a punishment for a kiss, for anything really, but that wasn’t something a man like Matteo would agree on.
“Among other things,” I said because I never knew when to shut my mouth. And what better moment to choose for provoking someone than before they were going to poke you with a sharp needle.
“I bet,” he said, the scary smile getting a bit scarier. Matteo cupped my chin. “Try to hold still.”
I braced myself as he touched the needle to my lip. Despite my taunting, Matteo was careful when he stitched me up. It still hurt like hell every time the needle pierced my skin and my eyes filled with stupid tears. I fought them for as long as possible but eventually a few trailed down my cheeks. Matteo didn’t comment for which I was glad. For him this was probably nothing. When he set the needle down after what felt like forever but had probably been less than five minutes, I quickly wiped the tears off my cheeks, embarrassed that I’d shown weakness in front of him like that.
“It’ll swell even more. Tomorrow morning you’ll have a fat lip,” Matteo said.
I checked my reflection. My lip had already swollen considerably since I’d last seen it, or maybe that was my imagination. I pulled down my lower lip to check the stitches. You couldn’t see them from the outside. At least I wouldn’t have an ugly scar. “You can’t possibly want to marry me looking like this.” I pointed at my face. “We should postpone the wedding.”