Page 39 of Ruined By Protection (Feretti Syndicate #5)

Matteo

" I need a shower," Hazel says, her voice deliciously raspy.

I brush a strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. "I need one too."

Her eyes sparkle cheekily and I see the question there. I press a soft kiss to her forehead.

"Come on," I say, sitting up and bringing her with me. "Let's get cleaned up."

I lead her to the bathroom. The marble is cool beneath our feet as I reach into the glass enclosure to turn on the water, adjusting the temperature until steam begins to rise.

When I turn back to Hazel she's standing utterly unselfconscious. The sight of her—curves illuminated by the soft bathroom lighting—makes my breath catch.

I guide her into the shower, following close behind with my palms cupping her ass. The hot water cascades over us both and I reach for the soap, working it between my hands until it forms a rich lather.

"Turn around," I tell her softly.

She complies, presenting her back to me. I start with her shoulders, my soapy hands gliding over her skin in slow, careful circles. I work my way down her spine, over the curve of her buttocks, down the backs of her thighs. Every inch of her is divine and I'm determined to worship all of it.

"Turn to me," I murmur, and she does as I say.

Water streams down her body as I soap her collarbones, her breasts, her stomach. I kneel to wash her legs, looking up to find her watching me, her eyes never leaving mine. The trust in her gaze hits me with a kind of pain.

"You're beautiful," I tell her, rising to my feet. "Every inch of you."

She reaches for the soap but I shake my head. "Let me take care of you."

I rinse her body carefully, making sure no soap remains. Her skin is pink from the hot water, glowing with vitality. I can't resist leaning in to kiss her shoulder, tasting the skin there.

"If things were different," I say against her ear, "I could fuck you all day."

A smile plays at the corners of her mouth. "I would absolutely love that," she says, soft and teasing.

My cock hardens instantly, pressing against her stomach. She glances down, that smile turning into a satisfied grin.

"Again?" she asks, one eyebrow raised in challenge.

I groan, resting my forehead against hers. "You have no idea what you do to me."

I can't take my eyes off her as water streams down her body, droplets clinging to her skin like they can't bear to let go. I understand the feeling.

"I need to be part of it," she says suddenly.

"Part of what?" I ask, though I already know.

"Whatever happens with Elliott." Her eyes hold mine, unwavering. "I can't just sit on the sidelines while you handle everything. This is my life, Matteo. My problem."

I turn off the shower, reaching for a towel to wrap around her. She deserves the truth.

"Hazel, I need to be clear about something." I guide her out of the shower, grabbing another towel for myself. "Montgomery isn't walking away from this. He's not going to prison. He's not going to trial."

She blinks at my words but doesn't flinch and then just nods slowly.

"I know," she says quietly.

Her reaction confuses me. I expected shock, horror, maybe even disgust. But there's something in her expression I can't quite place—a resignation, an understanding that surprises me.

"You know?" I repeat, examining her carefully.

"I've been thinking about it ever since we were in the garden. Even if Maria manages to fix everything with the divorce, with the restraining order..." She shakes her head. "Elliott has connections I don't. Legal connections—judges, politicians, people with authority."

Her voice grows stronger as she continues. "He'll find a way to come after me. Or worse, he'll just move on to hurt someone else."

I take her hands in mine. "You're right."

"I can't say I agree with killing him," she adds. "It goes against everything I've ever believed. But I also know he can't be allowed to ruin other lives."

"Hazel," I say carefully. "Do you know a woman named Melissa Winters?"

The name registers in her eyes—a flicker of recognition, then confusion.

"I—" She pauses, searching her memory. "When Elliott and I first got married there was this woman... She approached me in the grocery store."

I wait, giving her space to remember.

"She was older, maybe my mother's age. She said her daughter was missing and that she'd been Elliott's girlfriend." Hazel's eyes widen. "Melissa. That was her daughter's name."

"What happened?" I prompt gently.

"Elliott said she was just some crazy woman. That her daughter was a stalker who couldn't accept their breakup." She looks up at me, realization dawning. "He was lying, wasn't he?"

I nod slowly. "Daniel found police reports. Melissa Winters disappeared two years ago, right before you and Montgomery got married. She was pregnant."

Hazel's face drains of color. "Oh my God."

"The case was never solved," I continue. "But her mother insists Montgomery was involved. Nobody listened because of his family's connections."

Hazel stands abruptly, clutching the towel tighter around herself. "He killed her, didn't he? And their baby."

It's not a question, not really. She's connecting the dots herself.

"We believe so," I confirm. "And if we're right, that means?—"

"That I married a murderer," she finishes, her voice hollow.

I wrap my arms around her, holding her close as she processes this revelation. Her body trembles against mine.

"I still can't say I want him dead," she whispers against my chest. "But I understand now why it has to happen."

I pull back to look at her face, needing her to understand. "I won't ask you to be part of that, Hazel. You don't need that on your conscience."

"I'm already part of it. The moment I walked into his life I became part of this story. I just didn't know it."

Hazel

I wake with a start and find the space beside me is empty, the sheets cool to my touch. Matteo is gone.

Last night rushes back to me—the shower, our conversation, the horrible truth about Melissa Winters. I press my palms against my eyes, trying to block out the images forming in my mind. A pregnant woman. Missing. Presumed dead.

And Elliott... my husband. The man I shared a bed with for two years.

"No," I whisper to the empty room. "There has to be another explanation."

I sit up, wrapping the sheet around me as I try to make sense of it all. Elliott is controlling, manipulative, abusive—I know this firsthand. But murderer? Could he really have killed a woman carrying his child?

I think about the Elliott I first met—charming, attentive, seemingly perfect. The way he spoke to my parents, how he promised to take care of me. Was it all just a mask hiding something much darker?

He couldn't .

I remember the woman in the grocery store now—Melissa's mother. The desperation in her eyes as she approached me by the produce section. "My daughter was with your husband just before you," she'd said. "Now she's disappeared."

Elliott had explained it away so easily when I brought it up. "Just another woman who couldn't handle rejection," he'd said with that silky smile. And I believed him.

God, I believed him.

A soft knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts.

"Come in," I call, pulling the sheet higher around my chest.

Evelyn steps inside, closing the door gently behind her. She's dressed in jeans and a soft blue sweater, her dark hair pulled back in a loose ponytail.

"Hey," she says, her eyes taking in my disheveled state. "Matteo said you might need some company. He had to meet with Damiano."

The sight of her—so normal, so straightforward—makes my throat lump with emotion. I've known her my whole life, this cousin who's more like a sister. She's seen me through everything and now here she is again, standing by me through the worst moment of my life.

I feel tears threatening but I swallow them back. I've cried enough.

"You okay?" she asks, crossing the room to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Not really," I admit.

She reaches for my hand. "Want to talk about it?"

I take a deep breath, trying to organize my thoughts. Where do I even start?

"Have you heard about Melissa Winters?" I ask.

Evelyn's brow furrows. "Who?"

"She was with Elliott before me. She disappeared right before our wedding." The words feel strange in my mouth, like I'm telling someone else's story. "She was pregnant."

Evelyn's eyes stretch. "Hazel..."

"Now Matteo thinks Elliott killed her." I say it plainly, needing to hear the words out loud. "And I'm starting to think he could be right."

"Jesus," Evelyn whispers. She shifts closer, her hand gripping mine. "How did you find out?"

I tell her everything—about Daniel's investigation, about Melissa's mother approaching me in the grocery store, about the revelation in the shower with Matteo. The words pour out of me, a dam finally breaking.

"I married him, Evelyn. I slept next to him for two years." My voice cracks. "How could I not have known?"

"Because he didn't want you to know," she says firmly. "Men like Elliott are experts at hiding who they really are."

I shake my head. "But a pregnant woman? His own child?"

"If she threatened his immaculate image...or…" Evelyn doesn't finish the sentence. She doesn't have to.

"What's going to happen now?" Evelyn asks after a moment of silence.

I meet her eyes. "Matteo is going to eliminate him."

I expect shock, horror, maybe even a lecture about going to the police. Instead, Evelyn just nods slowly.

"And how do you feel about that?" she asks carefully.

"I don't know," I admit. "Part of me thinks it's wrong—that no one should have that power over another person's life. But then I think about what he did to Melissa, what he did to me, what he might do to someone else..." I trail off, the weight of it all pressing down on me.

"And the other part?" Evelyn prompts.

"The other part of me thinks it's justice," I whisper.

Evelyn squeezes my hand. "Whatever happens, I'm here. You know that, right?"

I nod, grateful beyond words for her presence. "I know."

"And Matteo?" she asks. "What's happening there with the two of you?"

The question catches me off guard. With everything else swirling in my mind I haven't had time to figure out what's developing between Matteo and me.

"I don't know that either," I say honestly. "It's complicated."

"Love usually is," Evelyn replies with a small smile.

Love. The word hangs in the air between us. Is that what this is? This fierce, protective feeling that seems to grow every time I'm with him.

"He sees me," I say finally. "The real me. Not just what he wants to see."

Evelyn nods like she understands completely. "That's rare. Hold onto it."