Page 22 of Ruined By Protection (Feretti Syndicate #5)

Hazel

I stare at the perfectly poached egg on my plate, watching the golden yolk ooze across the artisan sourdough toast.

"You haven't touched your food," Lucrezia says, eyeing me over her espresso cup. "Ettore will be devastated."

I force a smile and cut into the egg. "Sorry. Just lost in thought."

"How about shopping today?" Lucrezia grins, excitement dancing in her eyes. "Because I know all the best places. Fifth Avenue, obviously, but there's this little boutique in SoHo that has the most incredible printed chiffon dresses."

The egg tastes rich and savory on my tongue. "I appreciate it, but I need to be practical. Just some basics to get me through until..." Until what? Until Elliott stops hunting me? Until the divorce is final? Until I figure out what the hell I'm doing with my life?

"Until you have your own place," Lucrezia finishes for me, her voice gentle. "But that doesn't mean you can't have nice things now."

I set my fork down. "I have eight hundred dollars to my name, Lucrezia. That's all I managed to save."

Her perfectly-manicured hand waves dismissively. "Consider it a loan, then. Or better yet, a gift."

"I can't?—"

"You can and you will," she interrupts. "Think of it as my personal rebellion against assholes who control women through money."

The fierce determination in her eyes reminds me that beneath her polished exterior Lucrezia surely has her own battles. I'm starting to understand why she and Evelyn bonded so quickly.

"Evelyn," I say, changing the subject, "shouldn't she be here by now?"

Lucrezia checks her phone. "She texted that the morning rush at the café is keeping her. She'll meet us there."

I nod, thinking about my cousin. In the three days I've been here I've noticed the shadows under her eyes, the way she throws herself into work with almost desperate energy.

"She works too hard," I murmur.

"It keeps her mind busy," Lucrezia says, understanding immediately. "After everything with Ivan..." She trails off, realizing she might have said too much.

"She hasn't told me much about what happened," I admit.

Lucrezia's face softens. "It's her story to tell. But yes, she pushes herself. That little bookshop café is her sanctuary."

"I'd love to see it," I say, then hesitate. "But I'm afraid to go there."

"Why?"

I twist my napkin in my lap. "He knows that Evelyn is here and he is aware that we had a great relationship. I called her from the phone he’s tracked since we got married, so I know that he will search for me eventually somewhere near her."

Understanding dawns on her face. "He might check the cafe."

The sound of the front door opening echoes through the hallway, followed by heavy footsteps. My pulse quickens before I can control it.

Matteo appears in the doorway, his presence immediately filling the room. He's dressed in dark jeans and a black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, revealing the compass tattoo on his forearm. His eyes find mine immediately and the intensity in them makes me look away.

"Morning," he says, his voice deceptively casual. After last night's confrontation in my bedroom nothing between us feels casual anymore.

"Coffee?" Lucrezia offers, seemingly oblivious to the tension crackling between us.

"Already had some." Matteo moves to the sideboard, helping himself to a piece of toast. "What's the plan for today?"

"Shopping," Lucrezia announces brightly. "Hazel needs clothes."

I stare intently at my plate, feeling Matteo's eyes on me. The memory of standing in my room without clothes, as he stared at my bruises makes heat rise to my cheeks—not only from embarrassment, but from the raw fury I'd seen in his eyes.

"I'll drive you," he says, his tone making it clear this isn't an offer but a statement of fact.

Lucrezia raises an eyebrow. "Daniel was going to take us."

"I'm handling Hazel's security in case you forgot." Matteo says, his voice firm.

I finally look up at him. "Is that really necessary? For a shopping trip?"

His eyes lock with mine and for a moment I see the dangerous man beneath the civilized exterior. "Your husband filed a missing persons report. Claims you're mentally unstable. He's got private investigators looking for you."

The room seems to tilt slightly. "How do you know that?"

"I have my sources." He takes a bite of toast, chewing deliberately. "So yes, security is necessary."

Lucrezia looks between us, her expression thoughtful. "Well then, it's settled. Matteo will drive us." She stands, smoothing her jeans. "I'll get my purse. Hazel, finish your breakfast. We need to leave soon if we want to meet Evelyn at eleven."

She departs, leaving me alone with Matteo. The silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken words.

I swallow hard. "What happens now?"

"Now I know exactly what needs to be done about him."

A chill runs through me, not entirely from fear. "Matteo?—"

"Don't worry about him." He cuts me off. "Focus on getting what you need today. And stay close to me."

The intensity in his voice makes my heart race. Part of me wants to argue, to insist I can handle myself. But another part—the part that spent two years in constant fear—feels something perilously close to relief.

I push my plate away, appetite gone. The idea of Elliott hunting me down with private investigators makes my stomach clench. He'd been tracking me for so long—my phone, my car, cameras in our house—that I'd almost forgotten what privacy felt like. Now I'm free but still hunted.

"You should eat more," Matteo says, his eyes dropping to my half-finished breakfast.

"I'm not hungry." I twist the napkin in my lap, unable to meet his gaze.

The silence between us grows thick and uncomfortable. I can feel him watching me, assessing, calculating. Whatever Matteo is thinking, he keeps it locked behind those fierce eyes.

"Matteo," I finally say, my voice barely above a whisper, "whatever you're planning?—"

"I'm not planning anything," he interrupts, but the tight set of his jaw tells me otherwise.

"I just don't want anyone getting hurt because of me."

Something flashes across his face—anger, maybe, or frustration. "The only person getting hurt will be?—"

The click of Lucrezia's heels cuts him off. She sweeps back into the dining room, Jimmy Choo purse hanging from her forearm, Prada sunglasses perched on top of her head.

"Ready to go?" she asks brightly, looking between us.

I nod quickly, grateful for the interruption. "Yes, definitely."

Matteo pushes away from the buffet, his muscles fluid and controlled. "Car's out front."

Lucrezia links her arm through mine as we follow him through the mansion's grand foyer. "Don't mind him," she whispers, leaning close. "He always gets grumpy when he's worried."

"He's not worried about me," I murmur back. "He's just doing his job."

She gives me a sidelong glance that says she doesn't believe me for a second.

Outside, the morning sun bathes everything in golden light. The driveway curves elegantly around a fountain, and parked beside it is a sleek black Audi with tinted windows. Not the motorcycle I'd seen him riding yesterday—this is clearly for business.

The boutique is unlike any store I've ever shopped in before. Lucrezia leads me down racks of clothes while a sleek-looking sales associate hovers nearby, ready to assist at a moment's notice. The price tags make me wince every time I dare peek at one.

"Stop looking at the prices," Lucrezia says, catching me in the act. "Just pick what you like."

I finger the soft fabric of a cream sweater. "I can't help it. This costs more than I used to make in a week before getting married."

Lucrezia rolls her eyes and plucks the sweater from the rack, adding it to the growing pile draped over her arm. "You need basics first. Then we'll find you something fun."

My gaze drifts to the entrance where Matteo stands like a sentinel, arms crossed over his chest, his eyes constantly scanning the street before returning to me. Every time our eyes meet I quickly look away, pretending to be fascinated by whatever garment is nearest.

"He takes his job very seriously," I murmur.

Lucrezia follows my gaze and smirks. "Oh yes, very dedicated to his work."

I grab a pair of jeans from a nearby display. "These look comfortable."

"Try them on. The fitting rooms are in the back."

As we move deeper into the store I feel Matteo's eyes following me. It's not an uncomfortable feeling, exactly. More like being wrapped in something warm and dangerous at the same time.

The sales associate unlocks a fitting room for me and Lucrezia hands over the pile of clothes she's collected. "Start with these. I'll find you some more options."

Inside the small, elegant room with its plush velvet bench and flattering lighting, I begin trying on clothes. The jeans fit perfectly. The cream sweater feels like cotton next to my skin.

I step out to show Lucrezia, who claps her hands in delight. "Perfect! You look amazing."

Across the store, Matteo's eyes glitter as he takes in my appearance, and something flutters in my stomach. I duck back into the fitting room, cheeks burning.

After trying on several more outfits I reach for a simple black dress that Lucrezia insisted would be ‘essential’. As I pull it over my head, the air around me shifts. A cold sensation crawls up my spine.

I freeze, dress half-on, suddenly certain I'm being watched. Not by Matteo—this gaze feels different. Threatening.

My heart pounds against my ribs as I yank the dress down and peer around the fitting room. There's no one here but me, yet the feeling persists—eyes on me, hostile and possessive.

I step out of the fitting room, scanning the store. Lucrezia is chatting with the sales associate near a display of scarves. Matteo remains by the door, his posture alert.

"You okay?" Lucrezia calls, noticing my expression.

"Fine," I manage, but my voice sounds strange even to my own ears.