Page 32 of Ruined By Protection (Feretti Syndicate #5)

Hazel

I feel my resolve weakening under Matteo's ridiculous yet insightful book comments. The man is infuriating—somehow finding a way to make me want to smile when all I want is to stay angry. But he’s nailed my behaviour and I can’t deny I’m acting childishly.

"I never had you down for a literary gentleman," I say, trying to keep my voice firm despite the crack in my armor and failing because for some reason I cannot resist dropping into a Southern Belle Scarlett O’Hara accent.

"Never said I was." Matteo grins as he takes another step closer, and I fight the urge to back away. "I'm just trying to understand what changed."

"What changed is I woke up and came to my senses," I say, lifting my chin. "Whatever this was between us—" I gesture between us, "—it stopped the moment I opened my eyes this morning."

His brow furrows. "I don't believe you."

"That's not my problem." I cross my arms tighter, creating a barrier between us. "I made a mistake. I was vulnerable and emotional after everything with Elliott and you were... convenient."

The lies taste bitter on my tongue, but I force them out anyway. Better to hurt him now than let myself be hurt again. I don't want to drag that redhead into this. He hurt her too apparently. But she won't fix their relationship.

"Convenient?" His voice drops dangerously low. "Is that what last night was to you?"

"Yes." The deceit burns my throat. "And now I need to focus on getting my divorce and rebuilding my life. I can't do that surrounded by... complications."

"Complications." He repeats the word like he's testing its weight.

I look away, unable to meet his eyes. "I need to be left alone, Matteo. Please."

"Look at me, Hazel." Something in his tone makes me turn back to him. His eyes delve deep into mine, searching for the truth I'm trying so hard to hide. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing." I swallow hard. "I just... I can't do this. Any of it. I need space to figure out my life without Elliott, without jumping into something else that's going to hurt me."

A flash of understanding crosses his face. "You think I'm going to hurt you."

"I know you will." It blurts out before I can stop it, raw and honest. "Men like you always do."

"Men like me?" His jaw tightens. "You don't know what kind of man I am."

"Don't I?" I let out an empty laugh. "I know enough. I know you're dangerous. I know you have women throwing themselves at you. I know this—" I gesture between us "—means something different to you than it does to me."

"And what does it mean to you?" he challenges, the interest sparking in his eyes.

I shake my head, feeling tears threatening. "It doesn't matter. Please, Matteo. I'm begging you to leave me alone."

His expression shifts—a hardening, a closing off. It's a look I haven't seen from him before, cold and distant, like metal shutters coming down over a window.

"Fine." The word comes out clipped. "If that's what you want."

"It is."

He steps back, opening a gulf between us. "I respect your wishes, Hazel. You won't have to worry about me complicating your life anymore."

The coldly formal tone cuts deeper than anger would have. I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly shivery despite the warmth of the room.

"Thank you," I whisper.

Matteo moves to the door, his stride stiff and controlled. He pauses with his hand on the doorknob, keeping his back to me.

"For what it's worth," he says without turning around, "I would never have hurt you."

I open my mouth to respond but he's gone, the door closing with a soft click that somehow sounds more final than if he'd slammed it.

I pick up the burner phone and scroll to Mom's number. I need to hear her voice, to comfort myself in something familiar.

She answers on the third ring. "Hello?"

"Mom, it's me." I keep my voice low, though I know Matteo is gone.

"Hazel! I'm so glad to hear you sweetie." Relief floods her voice.

I swallow hard. "How's Dad doing?"

She hesitates and my stomach drops. "He's okay. Elliott... called yesterday saying there might be some issues with the insurance coverage for his next procedure."

Of course he did. I press my fingertips against my closed eyelids. Mom continues tentatively; “It’s just that this procedure…it’s the one that he really needs…that might just fix his back at last.”

I’m silent for a long moment, working out what to tell her. "He's trying to get to me, control me through you, Mom. I'm working with a lawyer. We'll figure something out."

"Don't you worry about us," Mom says, though I can hear the worry in her voice. "We'll be fine. Your father would rather lose his treatments than know you're being hurt."

"I know, Mom. I just—" My phone beeps with another call. I pull it away from my ear to check the screen. "It's Evelyn. I should take this."

"Okay, honey. Call me soon. We love you."

"Love you too, Mom." I hang up and switch to Evelyn's call. "Hey, Ev."

"Hello, Hazel."

The blood freezes in my veins. It's not Evelyn's voice.

"Elliott." His name escapes my lips in a horrified whisper.

" There she is." His voice is smooth, pleasant even. The same voice that charmed my parents, my friends. The same voice that would whisper apologies after leaving bruises on my skin. "My runaway wife. I’ve been looking everywhere for you darling."

I can't breathe. My fingers go numb around the phone.

"Nothing to say, darling?" Elliott's tone remains light, conversational. "After all the trouble you've caused me?"

My brain kicks into survival mode. I need to keep him talking. I need to get help.

I move toward the door on shaky legs. "You hurt me, Elliott." I keep my voice quiet, trembling. Not difficult to fake with the terror coursing through my veins.

"I disciplined you," he corrects, as if explaining to a child. "There's a difference."

I open the bedroom door as silently as possible, stepping into the hallway. "I couldn't take it anymore. The bruises, the domination, the cameras watching my every move."

"You're being dramatic as usual." His sigh sounds genuinely disappointed. "I only installed the surveillance because you can't be trusted to make good decisions. Look at where you are now."

I scan the hallway, desperate for anyone. The mansion feels vast and empty. I start walking toward the stairs, keeping my footsteps light.

"How did you get Evelyn's phone?" What might he have done to my sweet cousin? I hardly dare consider it.

"Does it matter?" He chuckles. "What matters is that I've found you, sweetheart. And you've been very, very naughty."

I spot movement at the bottom of the stairs – Matteo and Lucrezia in deep conversation. Relief washes over me.

"The restraining order wasn't very nice," Elliott’s voice hardens. "Neither was hiring a lawyer. You know how I feel about airing our private business."

I descend the stairs, frantically waving to catch their attention while pressing a finger to my lips.

"I was scared," I say, injecting a note of apology into my voice. "You hurt me so badly that night."

"You provoked me to it," Elliott replies smoothly. "You always do. But I forgive you."

Matteo looks up, his stony expression changing instantly when he sees my face. I point to the phone and mouth "Elliott" while continuing down the stairs.

"It wasn't clever getting divorce lawyers involved, Hazel," Elliott's voice turns menacing. "Now I might be forced to take actions I'd rather avoid. Your father's next surgery, your mother's position at the company... such fragile things."

Lucrezia's eyes widen as she comprehends what's happening. Matteo's face transforms into something deadly.

"Please don't hurt them," I whisper, and the fear in my voice is entirely real. "They have nothing to do with this."

"They have everything to do with this," Elliott counters. "They're the reason you married me, aren't they? Not love. Simple convenience. Security."

I reach the bottom of the stairs. Matteo holds out his hand for the phone but I shake my head. I need to keep Elliott talking.

"I did love you," I lie. "In the beginning."

"And you will again," Elliott says with complete confidence. "Once you're home where you belong."

Matteo's jaw clenches so hard I can see the muscle working beneath his skin. He turns abruptly and strides toward the front door, moving with terrifying purpose.

Lucrezia reaches for the phone, mouthing "Give it to me."

"Elliott, I need time," I say, my voice breaking. "Can't you understand that?"

I tighten my grip on the phone, watching Matteo's retreating figure with a mix of fear and confusion. Where is he going? What is he planning?

"Elliott, I need time," I repeat, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Time's up, Hazel," he says spitefully. "You've had your little adventure. Now tell me where you are so I can come get you."

My mind races. I can't give him any information that might lead him here. Lucrezia stands beside me, her eyes stretched with concern as she gestures for me to hand over the phone.

"I—I don't know exactly where I am," I stammer and it's not entirely a lie. "I've been staying with Evelyn but I get confused here in New York. All the streets look the same to me."

"Don't play games with me," Elliott warns, his voice dropping to that dangerous whisper I know too well. "I know you aren’t with Evelyn. So where are you? What's the address?"

"I honestly don't know. We took a cab from her place." I force a nervous laugh that doesn't sound fake because I really am terrified. "You know how bad I am with directions. I couldn't tell you if we went north or south or?—"

"You think I'm stupid?" The pleasant facade cracks and the real Elliott emerges—vicious, calculating, destructive. "You think I don't know what you're doing right now?"

"Elliott, please?—"

"You're stalling." He cuts me off. "You know exactly where you are. You're just too much of a conniving little bitch to admit it."

I hear a commotion in the background—a door slamming, footsteps.

"Get away from me!" Evelyn's voice, distant but unmistakable, rises behind the grunts. "How dare you touch my phone!"

My blood turns to ice. "Evelyn? What did you do to her? If you hurt her…"

"Nothing, yet. Nothing compared to what I'll do to her if you don't come home right now," he says, eerily calm despite the chaos I can hear. "Your cousin made some poor choices today."

"Let me talk to her!" I demand, panic rising in my throat.

"Elliott Montgomery, you get out of here right now!" Evelyn shouts, her voice closer now.

There's a scuffle, muffled sounds of struggle, a repressed scream.

"You've made your choice," Elliott says to me, his voice flat and final. "Remember that when your family starts suffering the consequences."

The line goes dead.

Lucrezia's face drains of color. "We need to tell Damiano." She grabs my wrist and pulls me down the hallway. "Come on!"

I stumble after her, my mind scrambling with horrible possibilities. Elliott's voice echoes in my head—that calm, reasonable tone he uses right before he does something truly vile. The same silky voice he used the night he broke my rib.

Lucrezia practically runs down the corridor, her grip on my wrist tight enough to hurt. We burst through a set of double doors without knocking.

"Damiano!" Lucrezia's voice cracks with urgency.

Don Feretti looks up from his desk, his expression shifting instantly from annoyance to alert concern. "What's happened?"

"Elliott Montgomery has Evelyn," Lucrezia explains breathlessly. "He just called Hazel on Evelyn's phone."

Damiano stands immediately, reaching for his own phone. "Where?"

"Her bookshop, I think," I say, my voice trembling.

Damiano presses a button on his phone. "Noah. Montgomery has Evelyn." He listens for a moment then hangs up and looks at me. "What exactly did he say?"

I try to organize my scattered thoughts. "He ordered me to come back, threatened my family. Said I'd made my choice and they would suffer the consequences. Then Evelyn was shouting at him to get out and there was some kind of struggle…a scream…"

"Did he hurt her?" Damiano's voice is deadly calm.

"I don't know. The call ended." Panic rises in my throat. "We need to send an ambulance. Or call the police. If he hurts her?—"

"Police and ambulances are not options," Damiano cuts me off, his tone final.

"What? But she could be hurt!" I protest, disbelieving. "We can't just?—"

"Noah is already on his way," Damiano says. "Matteo called him the moment he heard what was happening. Matteo and Daniel are headed there as well."

"But what if she needs medical help?" I persist, unable to comprehend their refusal to involve the authorities.

Damiano's eyes meet mine, stony calculating. "We have our own doctors, Hazel. Professionals who understand discretion."

"Discretion?" I repeat incredulously. "This is Evelyn's life we're talking about!"

"And we will handle it," Damiano says firmly. "Without complications."

I look to Lucrezia, hoping for support, but her face is set in grim understanding. Of course. The police means questions, investigations, attention they can't afford. Even with someone they care about in danger, the family's criminal operations take priority.