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Noah shoots him a warning look. "Drop it, Matteo."
"Fine, fine." Matteo grabs a beer, twisting off the cap. "But whatever's going on, fix it. We've got bigger problems than your little domestic drama."
I cross my arms over my chest. "We're not?—"
"Save it, princess." Matteo takes a long drink. "I don't care what you two are or aren't. I'm just here to make sure you stay alive and Noah doesn't do anything any more stupid than he already has."
CHAPTER 10
Idon't say a word as I grab my keys from the counter. My jaw clenches so tight my teeth might crack.
Matteo raises an eyebrow. "You good?"
I ignore him, slipping on my leather jacket in one fluid motion. Evelyn stands there with her arms crossed, her blue eyes burning holes through me. The photograph of my mother sits on the dresser where she found it—evidence of her intrusion, of her seeing something nobody was meant to see.
"I'll be back in a couple of hours," I say, voice flat. "Don't let her leave."
"Where are you—" Evelyn starts.
I close the door before she can finish. The hallway feels too small suddenly, the walls pressing in.
Fuck.
The garage is cold and quiet. I pass my bike—the Ducati Matteo brought over—and head straight for the black Audi instead. I need the trunk space for whatever shit Evelyn put on that list. Clothes. Books. Fucking toiletries.
I slam the car door and grip the steering wheel hard enough that my knuckles turn white. The engine purrs to life but I don't pull out immediately. Instead I sit there, breathing.
She saw the photograph. The only thing I've kept. The only weakness I've allowed myself.
My mother with her violin, smiling like the world wasn't about to swallow her whole.
I bang my fist against the steering wheel. Once. Twice. The pain helps clear my head.
I can't let Evelyn see me like this. Can't let her know she got to me. Can't let her think for one second that she has any power here. That's how people get hurt. That's how people die.
That's how my mother died.
I put the car in gear and peel out of the garage, tires squealing against concrete. The city opens up before me, all steel and glass reflecting the afternoon sun. I drive too fast, weaving through traffic with practiced precision.
I need to get her things. I need to get back. I need to regain control.
Because I can feel it slipping. Have been feeling it since I first saw Evelyn Anderson on that stage, violin pressed against her shoulder, eyes closed like she was somewhere else entirely.
I take a deep breath. Push away the memory of her standing there in my bedroom, vulnerable and exposed. Push away the way she looked at me when she realized I wasn't going to meet her gaze.
I'm not that man. I can't be that man. Not with anyone.
Not with Evelyn fucking Anderson.
I pull over to the side of the road and grab my phone. My thumb hovers over Damiano's contact before I decide against it. Better to call Alessio first. Get a read on the situation.
He answers on the second ring.
"Noah." His voice is clipped. Not a good sign.
"Where's Damiano?" I keep my own voice steady, neutral.
"Where the fuck have you been? Ivan's men were found dead. Matteo's been dodging questions. And now you call like it's just another Tuesday?"