Page 30 of Ruined By Protection (Feretti Syndicate #5)

Hazel

I wake with a start, my hand automatically reaching across the bed. Empty sheets greet my fingers, still warm but vacant. Of course Matteo isn't here.

Sunlight streams through the curtains we forgot to close properly last night, painting golden stripes across the rumpled bedding. I sit up slowly, pulling the sheet to cover my naked body despite being alone in the room.

Stupid . I whisper to myself.

What did I expect? That he'd still be here, watching me sleep? That we'd have breakfast together like some normal loving couple? After our conversation last night I should have known better. We both agreed this was just physical—nothing more.

A small, traitorous part of me had hoped anyway.

I press my palms against my eyes, willing away the sting of disappointment. This is better. Cleaner. I don't need another complicated relationship right now.

I slide out of bed, wincing slightly at the pleasant soreness in my muscles.

In the bathroom I turn the shower on as hot as I can stand it. Steam fills the space as I step under the spray, letting the water pound against my shoulders. The shampoo smells like jasmine and vanilla, and I love it.

As I wash away the evidence of last night I try to organize my thoughts. Elliott is here in New York. My lawyer is working on divorce papers. I'm staying with a crime family. And I just slept with a man who kills people for a living.

My life has become unrecognizable in just a few days.

After showering I wrap myself in the plush robe hanging on the back of the door and pad back into the bedroom. I put on a sweater and jeans. Simple and comfortable.

My new burner phone sits on the nightstand where I left it. Maria Gianelli gave it to me during our meeting, explaining that Elliott couldn't track this one. I pick it up and check the time—8.47 a.m. Not too early to call my lawyer.

I dial her number, sitting on the edge of the bed as it rings.

"Gianelli," she answers, her voice crisply professional.

"Maria, it's Hazel Taylor."

"Hazel, good morning. I was planning to call you later today." Papers rustle in the background. "I have some updates for you."

My stomach tightens. "Good news or bad news?"

"A bit of both, I'm afraid." She pauses. "The good news is that I've filed the emergency restraining order. The judge granted it based on the photos of your injuries and your statement."

Relief washes through me. "And the bad news?"

"Your husband has hired Stanley Blackwell."

The name means nothing to me. "Who is that?"

"Only one of the most ruthless divorce attorneys in New York," Maria says, her voice grim. "He specializes in high-profile divorces where the wealthy spouse wants to pay as little as possible. He's known for aggressive tactics and character assassination."

My throat tightens. "So Elliott is going to try to make me look bad."

"It appears so. Blackwell has already filed a response to our petition, claiming you're mentally unstable and that you've been having an affair."

A bitter laugh escapes me. "That's rich, coming from him."

"We have a preliminary hearing scheduled for next week. In the meantime, stay where you are."

"Thank you." I say and end the call.

I stand at the window for a moment, watching a gardener trim the hedges that line the expansive Feretti property. The normality of it strikes me as surreal against the chaos of my life.

My stomach growls, reminding me I haven't eaten in hours. Coffee. I need coffee and maybe something to eat.

I slip my feet into the cozy slippers Lucrezia lent me and head downstairs. The mansion is quiet this morning. I follow the faint scent of coffee, letting it guide me to the kitchen.

As I push open the swing door, I find Zoe sitting at the island counter, baby Sofia cradled in one arm while she sips from the coffee cup in her free hand. She looks up and smiles when she sees me.

"Good morning," she says, her voice soft, probably to avoid disturbing Sofia.

"Morning," I reply, heading straight for the coffee pot. "Is it okay if I...?"

"Help yourself. Mugs are in the cabinet to the right."

I pour myself a cup, the rich aroma making my mouth water. The first sip burns slightly but tastes heavenly.

"Did you sleep well?" Zoe asks, a knowing glint in her eye that makes me wonder if she's heard about Matteo spending the night in my room.

"Fine, thanks," I say, trying to keep my voice neutral. I take another sip of coffee to hide any telling expression.

Sofia makes a tiny sound, somewhere between a coo and a sigh. I can't help but smile at the little bundle in Zoe's arms.

"Is everything okay?" Zoe asks, her tone gentle but direct. "You seem a bit... distracted this morning."

I consider brushing it off but something about Zoe's open expression makes me want to be honest. "Just got off the phone with my lawyer. Elliott's hired some hotshot attorney who's apparently going to try to make me seem crazy."

Zoe nods, unsurprised. "Stanley Blackwell?"

"How did you know?"

She shrugs one shoulder, careful not to disturb Sofia. "It's what I would do if I were him. Blackwell's reputation precedes him."

"You know him?"

"Not personally but I know of him." She shifts Sofia to her other arm. "Don't worry too much. Maria Gianelli is excellent at what she does."

"Thanks," I say, leaning against the counter. "It's just... a lot, you know?"

"I do know," she says with a sincerity that makes me believe she truly does understand. "But you're not alone in this."

Sofia starts to fuss a little and Zoe stands, gently bouncing her. "I should get her changed. Help yourself to anything in the fridge if you're hungry."

"Thanks, Zoe."

After she leaves I make some toast and finish my coffee in the quiet kitchen. The conversation with Zoe has calmed me somewhat. There's something reassuring about her practical approach.

Once I've eaten I head back upstairs to my room. I need to talk to Evelyn. I haven't seen her in days, not since before... well, before Matteo.

Back in my room I pick up the burner phone and dial Evelyn's number. It rings several times before she answers, sounding slightly out of breath.

"Hello?"

"Ev, it's me."

"Hazel! I was just thinking about you. How are you doing?"

I sink onto the edge of the bed. "I'm okay. Haven't seen you in a few days. I was getting worried."

"I know, I'm sorry. The café's been crazy busy and I've been helping Noah with some stuff too." There's a pause. "Are you really okay?"

I consider telling her about Matteo but something holds me back. "Just dealing with lawyer stuff. Elliott's hired some shark attorney."

"That bastard," Evelyn says with feeling. "What does Maria say?"

"She says not to worry but it's hard not to." I twist a strand of hair around my finger, a nervous habit from childhood. "How's the café?"

"Chaotic but good. Listen, I'll try to come by tonight, okay? We can catch up properly."

"I'd like that," I say, realizing how much I've missed her.

"Great. I've got to run—literally in the middle of inventory—but I'll see you tonight."

"See you then."

Matteo

I pace the length of the living room, checking my watch for the fifth time in as many minutes. Daniel should be here by now. Every second we waste is another second that bastard Elliott Montgomery breathes.

My apartment feels too small suddenly, the sleek modern furniture and floor-to-ceiling windows doing nothing to contain the restless energy surging through me. I stop at the window, staring out at the Manhattan skyline without really seeing it.

Last night with Hazel plays on repeat in my mind.

The way her body moved above mine, taking control in a way that showed she was reclaiming something that bastard had stolen from her.

The moonlight catching the fading bruises on her skin, each one refueling the rage simmering just beneath my surface.

Fuck.

I need to focus but all I can hear is her breathless gasps when I pushed deeper, the way she whispered my name like a prayer when she came. The memory of her heat around me, her nails digging?—

The doorbell cuts through my thoughts. About damn time.

I cross the room in long strides and yank open the door. Daniel stands there, his face grim, a folder tucked under his arm.

"You're late," I say, stepping aside to let him in.

"Traffic," he replies simply, heading straight for the dining table. He sets down the folder and opens it, revealing photographs and printed documents. "Montgomery's been busy."

I join him at the table, forcing my mind to shift gears. "Tell me."

He made some calls while having dinner alone in the restaurant." Daniel taps a surveillance photo showing Elliott in the hotel lobby. "This morning he met with his attorney, Stanley Blackwell."

"Blackwell," I repeat, the name vaguely familiar. "Divorce specialist?"

Daniel nods. "Known for playing dirty. Very dirty."

"What else?"

"Montgomery's hired two private investigators." Daniel slides another photo across the table. "Ex-cops. They've been asking questions at the airport, showing Hazel's picture around."

I run a hand over my face, trying to think clearly. Images of Hazel keep intruding—her smile, her tears, her body trembling beneath mine.

"Matteo," Daniel says, his voice pulling me back. "You good?"

"Fine," I snap, then immediately regret it. "Sorry. Just... didn't get much sleep."

Daniel's phone rings, cutting through our conversation. He answers with a curt "Yes?" and listens, his expression shifting to concern. "Hold on," he says, then looks at me. "It's Fabio. Mrs. Montgomery is asking for a ride."

"A ride? Where the fuck does she think she's going?" I demand.

Daniel puts the phone on speaker. Fabio's voice comes through, tense and uncertain. "She's insisting, sir. Says she needs to leave immediately."

"Absolutely no," I bark into the phone. "Tell her to stay put."

"I tried, sir. She's... determined."

Something cold slides down my spine. "Put her on the phone. Now."

There's a rustling sound, then Hazel's voice comes through, defiant despite the slight tremor. "I don't need to talk to you, Matteo. I just need a car."

"You're not fucking going anywhere," I say, my voice dropping dangerously low. "Your husband is out there with private investigators looking for you."

"I know that," she snaps.

I grip the edge of the table, knuckles turning white. "Give the phone to Fabio and wait for me."

"No." The single word is cutting. "You don't have the right to tell me what to do. I need to get the hell out of New York now."

My patience snaps. "Why? What happened?"

The silence stretches for a beat too long. "Hazel, answer me."

Instead of answering, the line goes dead.

"Fuck!" I slam my fist against the wall, leaving a dent in the drywall. I grab my jacket and keys, already moving toward the door. "Call Fabio back. Tell him not to let her leave the fucking property. If she tries to walk out, physically restrain her."

Daniel's already dialing.

I'm halfway out the door when I turn back. "And Daniel? If Montgomery makes a move toward the estate, shoot him in the fucking knee."

I don't wait for his response. My mind races faster than my feet. Something spooked her. After everything she shared last night, after the way she melted into me, something happened to make her bolt.

The thought of her running from me twists painfully in my chest.

I slam onto my Ducati, engine roaring to life beneath me. Traffic laws become suggestions as I weave through cars, the needle pushing well past legal limits. My watch reads 11.43 a.m. If she leaves the estate, finding her becomes exponentially harder.

I push the Ducati to its limits, the engine screaming beneath me as I weave through traffic like a man possessed.

I cut off a delivery truck, ignoring the blaring horn as I accelerate through a gap that barely fits the bike. The mansion is just ahead, its wrought iron gates already open as if expecting me.

I skid to a stop in the circular driveway, gravel spraying beneath the tires. I'm off the bike before it fully stops, not bothering to properly park it as I take the front steps two at a time.

The heavy front door slams against the wall as I burst in. "Hazel!" My voice echoes through the marble foyer.

Lucrezia appears at the top of the grand staircase, her face tense. "Matteo?—"

"Where is she?" I demand, already moving toward the stairs.

Lucrezia descends quickly, blocking my path with surprising determination for someone half my size. "Stop. She doesn't want to see you."

I freeze, her words hitting me like a physical blow. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"She specifically asked that you not go to her room." Lucrezia crosses her arms, her dark eyes studying my face. "She was very clear about it."

The rage and confusion must show on my face because Lucrezia takes a small step back. "Get out of my way, Lucrezia."

"No." She stands her ground, chin lifted. "You need to respect her wishes."

"Something happened. She called Fabio asking for a car, wanting to leave New York. Now you're telling me she's locked herself in her room and doesn't want to see me?"

"That's exactly what I'm telling you." Her voice softens slightly. "She's upset, Matteo."

"No shit." I pace the foyer like a caged animal.