Matteo (20 page)

Chapter 42

“I should have called first,” I say when the door swings open.

I should have, but I couldn’t take the risk of her telling me not to come.

It’s been four days since I last saw Ellie.

Four days since I left her broken in the lobby of my apartment building.

Four days of torturing and badgering myself, of telling myself to let her go.

Four long days.

To the logical, reasoning person, it would be obvious that Ellie is responsible for the story that put my child in harm’s way. But, right now, I’m not logical. I’m in love. And deep inside me, there’s a stubborn, persistent voice that tells me that Ellie would never do that.

She wipes her nose against the sleeve of her oversized, button-down shirt. Her eyes are bloodshot. Her hair is a mess. She looks as devastated as I feel.

She steps aside, letting me cross over the threshold. I close the door behind me as she walks over to her kitchenette. I lean against the butcher block and watch as she pulls the hissing kettle from the stove. Without a word, she makes two cups of tea. She hands one of the delicate porcelain cups to me before wrapping her small hands around the other. That’s when I realize she’s shivering.

I put my cup down on the counter and go to her. I stare down into those pleading gray eyes and I
know
that she would never hurt me or my daughter. But, I need to hear her explanation. I need a justification. I take her cup from her hands and set it down next to mine. I grasp her gently by the shoulders.

“Hey –“ I say, lowering my face to hers. “You okay?”

She bites her bottom lip as if to hold back the tears threatening to spill over her eyelids. She lets out a groan before sliding her arms around my waist and burying her face in my chest. “I miss you.” Her weak voice is muffled by the fabric of my sweatshirt.

I hold her tightly. I can’t begin to explain how much I’ve missed her. I don’t try to explain it because even if I searched, I’d never find the words.

We stay like that for a while before she pulls back. “I have to show you something.”

I watch her pad over to the hand-carved antique desk next to her bookcase. She takes a manila folder out of the top drawer and stretches it to me. I flip it open and scan the papers inside. Emails exchanged between Ellie and her new lawyer concerning the sale of the
New York Flame
. There’s also a letter of intent.

“You see the date? I was trying to sell the blog before the story about Tilly was posted by one of my employees. It was an accident. An oversight. I would never put your daughter in harm’s way.” She sobs into her hands.

I wrap her in my arms because that’s where she belongs. “I know, Ellie. I know.” This beautiful soul pressed against me wouldn’t exploit my child for the sake of her blog. I already knew that long before I came here tonight. I knew it in my bones.

“Kiss me, Matteo,” she looks up at me with tear-stained cheeks. She’s breaking under the strain of her regret. “Kiss me and tell me this isn’t the end of us.”

I pull her body close to mine. Put my lips to the shell of her ear. “There
is
no end to us.” My mouth crushes hers before I drive my tongue past her lips. “I love you, Ellie.”

Chapter 43

“I’m going to introduce you to my mother.” The words fall from his lips into my hair.

I tuck my head even deeper under his chin, almost as if I’m trying to hide. “What?” A ball of nerves settles in the pit of my stomach.

“And my sisters and my father,” he continues.

I roll away from him and prop myself up on my elbow. “You can’t be serious,” I say, looking down into his face. The mind-blowing sex we just had is obviously affecting this man’s thinking.

He turns his head against the pillow and peers up at me. “It’s going to be hard, Ellie, but it’s necessary. You’re the woman in my life and my family needs to know you.”

“That sounds like a
really
bad idea.” I plop myself back onto the mattress. They already hated me long before the story about Tilly broke. But now? They’ll greet me at the door with sharpened pitch forks.

He runs his finger down my cheek. “I won’t hide you, Ellie. I won’t keep you a secret any longer. I’m not Elias Parker. Your father kept you in the shadows. But you deserve better. I want the world to know about you. I don’t care who gets upset.”

I swallow hard. Matteo is offering me what I’ve always wanted – a chance to belong somewhere, a chance to belong to someone. I just never imagined it would be this scary.

“So, this Sunday, you’re coming with me to my family dinner.” He says it with a note of finality and I’m too wound up to argue, but I don’t believe the Morettis would tolerate having a tabloid reporter sitting at the dinner table. “Ellie – dinner Sunday evening. I’ll pick you up at 6:00.”

Chapter 44

Just as the elevator door begins to close, a large hand reaches in to hold it open. The sound of a woman’s giggles and the hurried clicking of her heels fill the lobby, wafting onto the lift.

“Slow down, honey. I’ve got the door,” the man says.

“I told you we didn’t have time for that quickie. Your mother loses her shit whenever we’re late,” Ruthie Salvador says in a thick Brazilian accent as she steps onto the elevator. Her head whips around and she sees Matteo and me standing in the corner, his arm around my shoulder. “Matt!” she says, obviously startled.

She stops so abruptly that her husband nearly walks right into her as he follows her onto the lift. His blue eyes narrow as his gaze shifts from his brother to me and back again.

“Uncle Michael,” Tilly squeals as she runs to him, her arms wrapping around his leg.

“Hey munchkin,” Michael grins as he swoops her up into his arms.

“Hi Tilly,” Ruthie says, stretching her arms out to the little girl and Tilly swings off of Michael and into Ruthie’s arms like a little chimp.

“Matt,” Michael says coolly, giving his brother a cautious stare.

Matteo nods at them both. “Ruth. Michael.” Then, he turns his attention to me. “You remember Ellie Parker?”

Michael’s glare shifts to me. “Ms. Parker,” he says curtly. Ruthie offers me a quick, plastic smile before returning to her conversation with Tilly.

“Hello,” I say awkwardly as I inch closer to Matteo. I would probably duck behind his back if he wasn’t leaning against the elevator’s brushed chrome panel. The lift fills with tension and my eyes stay riveted to the console as the numbers light up, indicating our ascent to the 32
nd
floor.

“Mother didn’t mention that you were bringing a guest,” Michael says in a stiff tone.

Matteo smooths his hand down my stomach, momentarily calming the butterflies that are twirling around inside. “I’m not sure that she knows. I mentioned it to dad when I spoke to him a few days ago.”

“Mmm-hmmm,” is all Michael says before bringing his eyes to the console. He’s counting the numbers, too.

This dinner is going to be
so
awkward.

After an eternity, the elevator dings and the door slides open. I stay behind as everyone filters off and heads in the direction of the dark, mahogany door at the end of the corridor.

Matteo turns and gives me a small but reassuring smile. “Hey – it’s gonna be okay,” he whispers. He reaches for my hand and I hold onto to him as if for dear life as I step into the hallway.

A short, chubby lady with salt and pepper hair and a white apron answers the door. Michael and Ruthie greet her as ‘Rosabelle’. She gives me a scrutinizing glare as I step over the threshold and into the opulent vestibule.

Everything about this Park Avenue apartment’s elegant prewar design spells ‘old money’, from the gleaming crystal chandelier hanging from the high ceiling to the tufted settee sitting on an expensive antique French rug. Matteo mentioned that this apartment has been in his family for a few generations. His mother inherited it from her father, who came from a long line of Manhattan real estate developers.

A petite woman in a coral sleeveless shift dress marches into the foyer. “Would it kill you all to be on time?” she says with a frown on her beautiful face as she anchors a hand on her waist. It’s Gabriella Moretti in the flesh. “The pot roast has probably dried out by now.”

“Awww…pot roast again, grandma?” asks Tilly with a stomp and a deep pout. That makes everyone laugh.

The woman softens. “Yes, Tilly. Pot roast again. But you know what’s for dessert?”

“What?” Tilly asks excitedly grabbing her grandmother’s hand.

“Warm apple pie with ice cream!” A smile stretches her face, crinkling the fine lines framing her eyes.

Tilly cheers, jumping around eagerly. Gabriella pats the top of the little girl’s head as she straightens up.

Her attention grazes over the rest of us until her glare falls on me. “And who might
you
be?” she asks, eyeing me with an arched eyebrow.

“This is Ellie Parker,” Matteo says, draping an arm around me like a protective cloak.

Just as I step forward and extend my hand, I hear a shrill voice ring out from behind her. “
Ellie Parker?
” Madison comes into view, her eyes narrowed in disbelief.

“Yes,” Matteo says, his grip tightening until his fingernails are digging into my shoulder.

Mackenzie pops into the doorway behind Madison, all lithe and effortlessly elegant with her dancer’s physique. “Ellie Parker?” She looks confused, obviously unaware of who I am.

Madison turns and gives her sister a redolent look, eyebrows arched to the ceiling. “Eloise Benoit.”

Mackenzie’s mouth drops open for a split second before it pulls into a straight line. She grabs her sister’s hand defensively and intertwines their fingers.

Their mother gives me a hard, mean stare before snapping her neck towards the kitchen. “Rosabelle – set out an extra plate.”