Page 21 of Ruined By Protection (Feretti Syndicate #5)

Hazel

B ack in my room I close the door and lean against it, finally letting my shoulders slump. The dinner was exhausting in ways I hadn't anticipated. Between Matteo's smoldering presence and the conversation about his romantic exploits, my emotions are in chaos.

I reach behind to unzip the emerald dress, struggling with the zipper. My fingers tremble slightly as I tug it down. The weight of my situation settles on me—the lawyer, the phone call to my mom, and now this confusing jealousy over a man I have no claim to.

The dress pools at my feet, leaving me in just my bra and underwear.

God, the bruises look more violent on my skin, not less.

The initial dull blue has turned every tone of purplish black, edged with army green.

My fingers travel gingerly over the marks, each one carries a vivid image playing in my head like a horror film of a woman facing peril.

Is this what love means to a man? Or is what I inspire in him? I just don’t know anymore.

I step carefully out of the emerald silk pond and as I bend to pick it up, a brief tap at the door is immediately followed by it flying almost off its hinges.

Matteo stands in the doorway, his broad frame filling the space. His confused eyes lock with mine for a second before dropping to my exposed body.

I grab the dress from the floor then clutch it against my chest, but not before Matteo’s gaze catches the purple bruises lining my ribs, the obvious fingerprint marks on my upper arms.

His expression transforms. The confident, controlled man from dinner vanishes, replaced by something terrifying. His eyes darken, jaw clenches, features pulsing with rage while his entire body goes rigid. It's the look of a killer preparing to strike.

"What the fuck?" he growls, voice barely above a whisper.

I back up awkwardly until my legs hit the bed. "Matteo, you can’t just?—"

He's across the room in three strides, standing inches from me, his huge hands raised but not quite touching me. The cedar scent of his cologne envelops me. The warmth of him radiates against my skin, but his eyes are satan-cold with fury.

"Who did this to you?" His voice is diabolically quiet as his gaze examines and catalogs every mark on my body.

I clutch the dress tighter, trying to cover myself, but I don’t dare move from under his scrutiny. He's seen everything—Elliott's handprints, the bruises from being shoved against countertops, the marks from the belt.

"It doesn't matter." My voice comes out small, nothing like the strength I told myself to project. “It’s alright.”

"Doesn't matter? All right ?" His eyes snap to mine, blazing with an intensity that makes me shudder. "Someone put their hands on you. Someone hurt you." He reaches out, fingers hovering over a particularly nasty bruise on my shoulder without touching it. "Your husband?"

The word hangs between us. I look away, and that's answer enough.

" Cazzo ," he swears, running a hand through his hair. "That bastard did this to you?"

I clasp the wildflower tattoo on my wrist, seeking courage. "Please, just go."

"No." The word is final, brooking no argument. "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me exactly what that piece of shit did to you."

"Why do you care?" I challenge, suddenly finding my voice. "You didn't even recognize me when I got off that plane."

"Who the fuck touched you like that?" Matteo demands again, shouting and ignoring what I just said. His hand reaches out, fingers lightly grazing the biggest purple bruise on my shoulder.

"Take your hand off me," I snap, jerking away.

Matteo's hand pulls back like I scalded him, his expression darkening. "Hazel?—"

"No." I find my voice, pulling the dress tighter around me. "As far as I’m aware we're nothing more than two people who once had sex. That's all ." The words taste bitter on my tongue but I force them out anyway. "My problems are mine alone, and I need you out of here. Now ."

A flash of light hardens his eyes—hurt, maybe, before icing over. His mouth curves up into a feral smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

"That one night of sex?" He tilts his head, voice a silky rumble. "I bet you remember it well, bella. I certainly do."

Heat floods my cheeks as unwanted memories surface—his hands on my skin, his mouth against the side of my neck, the way he'd made me feel things I never felt before or since. Even now, half-naked and vulnerable, my body betrays me with a shiver that has nothing to do with the cold.

"Get out," I whisper, hating how weak I sound.

To my surprise, Matteo steps back, giving me space. But his eyes never leave mine, and the intensity in them makes my breath catch.

"I'll go," he says quietly. "But know this—I will make that bastard pay for what he did to you."

The casual way he says it sends ice through my veins. Not a threat, but a promise—stated with the same certainty someone might mention tomorrow's weather.

"Matteo, don't?—"

But he's already turning away, moving toward the door with predatory grace. At the threshold he pauses, looking back at me over his shoulder.

"Lock your door, Hazel."

Then he's gone, pulling the door closed behind him with a soft click that somehow sounds more final than a slam.

I stand frozen for several heartbeats before rushing to turn the lock, fingers trembling against the metal. Only when I hear it click into place do I sink to the floor, still clutching the emerald dress against my chest, trying to process what just happened.

Matteo

The phone's shrill ring tears me from a restless sleep. I grab it from the nightstand, squinting at the screen that reads 5.37 a.m. Daniel's name flashes across it.

"What?" I growl, my voice rough with sleep.

"We need to talk," Daniel says, his tone clipped and professional. "About Montgomery."

I sit up immediately, sleep falling away. After leaving Hazel's room last night I called Daniel with explicit instructions to dig up everything on Elliott Montgomery. Those bruises on Hazel's body have been burning in my mind all night.

"I'm listening." I swing my legs over the side of the bed.

"It's extensive," Daniel says. "You want this in person?"

"No. Now." I stand, moving to the window. Dawn is just breaking over the city, painting the skyline in shades of gray and pink. "Give me what you have."

I hear papers rustling on his end. "Elliott Montgomery, thirty years old.

Heir to Montgomery Construction, one of the largest commercial builders in Texas.

Based in Austin. Family's old money," Daniel continues.

"Father, Richard Montgomery, is on the board of several major companies.

Mother, Caroline, is from banking money.

Elliott graduated from Harvard with honors, took over East Coast operations of Montgomery Construction three years ago. "

"Criminal record?" I ask, though I already suspect the answer.

"Clean," Daniel confirms. "But that's where it gets interesting. Several complaints filed against him over the years. Two from ex-girlfriends. All mysteriously withdrawn."

My jaw tightens. "Money."

"Exactly. His family's connected to half the judges in Texas. One of the girlfriends suddenly received a full scholarship to study abroad. Another's family business got a major investment right before she dropped charges."

I pace the length of my bedroom, energy coursing through me. "What were the complaints?"

"Assault. Stalking. Threatening behavior." Daniel's voice remains neutral, but I can hear the undercurrent of disgust. "There's more. A woman named Melissa Winters went missing two and a half years ago. They had a relationship at the time."

"And?"

"And nothing. Case went cold. No body found. Montgomery was questioned but never charged."

The timing makes my blood run cold. Three years ago—right around when I met Hazel in Austin. When she was still bartending at The Remington.

"What about his marriage to Hazel?" I ask, my voice tight.

"Married two years ago. Big society wedding. Since then she's barely been seen in public without him. No social media presence."

Classic isolation tactics. My hand tightens around the phone.

"Financial situation?" I ask.

"That's where it gets more complicated," Daniel says.

"Montgomery's got Hazel's family locked down tight.

Her father had a workplace injury about eight years ago.

Multiple surgeries, all paid for by Montgomery Industries after the marriage.

Her mother works for one of their subsidiaries—good position, benefits.

Brother's in a private school on Montgomery's dime. "

I close my eyes, understanding washing over me. The perfect trap—financial control of her entire family. No wonder she stayed as long as she did.

"His current whereabouts?" I ask, already calculating travel time to Austin.

"That's the other thing," Daniel says, his voice dropping slightly.

"He filed a missing persons report yesterday.

Claims his wife has disappeared, possibly kidnapped.

Austin PD is investigating. He's got private investigators working the case too.

And according to my source, he's telling people she's mentally unstable, that she stopped taking medication. "

My grip on the phone tightens until the case creaks. Classic abuser playbook—discredit the victim before they can speak out.

"Keep digging," I tell Daniel. "I want everything—his schedule, his habits, his weaknesses. And get someone watching the family in Austin."

"Already on it," Daniel says. "And Matteo? This guy's dangerous, but not in our way. He's the kind that hides behind money and respectability. The kind that hurts women and gets away with it."

I end the call and stand at the window, watching the city wake up. The early morning light casts long shadows across the skyline, but they're nothing compared to the darkness gathering inside me.

I grab the phone and dial Daniel again.

"Yeah?" he answers on the first ring.

"The missing girlfriend—Melissa Winters. I need more details." I move to the closet, pulling out clothes with my free hand. "Everything you've got."

Daniel clears his throat. "According to her medical records, which weren't easy to access—she was pregnant when she disappeared."

I freeze, shirt half-buttoned. "Pregnant?"

"About eight weeks along." His voice is grim. "Her mother, Karen Winters, never stopped looking for her. Even created one of those social media campaigns—'Find Melissa’. Got thousands of followers. People are still actively searching."

"And Montgomery?" I ask, resuming dressing.

"Claimed they had an open relationship. Told police she was seeing other men, that the baby was unlikely to be his."

My jaw tightens. "Convenient."

"Very. But her mother denies it completely. Says Melissa told her everything about her life and she was exclusively with Montgomery. According to friends, she was excited about the pregnancy, had started looking at baby stuff online."

I close my eyes, the picture becoming clearer. "Let me guess—she disappeared right after telling him?"

"Three days later, apparently" Daniel confirms. "Last seen arguing with him in a restaurant. Witnesses say she left upset. He stayed, finished his meal, chatted with the owner. Perfect alibi."

I pace the length of the bedroom, energy coiling tight in my muscles. "Her body was never found?"

"No. Her car was discovered at a mall parking lot three days after she vanished. Security cameras conveniently malfunctioned that day."

"Of course they did." I grab my watch from the nightstand, strapping it on with unnecessary force. "What's your assessment?"

Daniel is silent for a moment. "Off the record? Either Montgomery or his father made her disappear. The timing, the pregnancy, the way the investigation was handled—it all points to them. But they covered their tracks well. Used their money and connections to make it go away."

I hang up and stand by the window, willing the rage coursing through my veins to dissipate. So Elliott Montgomery thinks his money makes him untouchable. He's about to learn how wrong he is.