Page 41 of Ruined By Protection (Feretti Syndicate #5)

Matteo

I watch Hazel's face carefully as she processes what I've told her. The color has drained from her cheeks, her fingers trembling as she sets down her coffee cup. Every protective instinct in me wants to shield her from this but I know she needs the truth.

"There's something else we need to discuss," I say, keeping my voice steady. "Something you're not going to like."

Her eyes meet mine, wary but resolute. "What is it?"

I take a deep breath, steeling myself for her reaction. "You need to talk to Elliott."

"What?" The word comes out as a gasp. She pulls back, clutching the sheet tighter around herself. "You can't be serious."

"I am." I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. "He's escalating, Hazel. Going after your family directly. We need to defuse the situation."

"By sending me back to him?" Her voice rises, eyes flashing with fear and anger. "After everything?—"

"No." I cut her off firmly. "Never. But you need to make him believe you might."

She shakes her head, confusion replacing anger. "I don't understand."

"You need to contact him. Convince him you just needed some time away, that you're considering coming back to him."

Her face pales even further. "You want me to pretend I love him?"

"Yes." The word tastes like a drop of pure acid. "If he believes you're coming back, he'll back off from your family. He'll do whatever you ask if he thinks you just needed some time."

Hazel's breathing quickens. "I can't... I don't think I can do that. Not after everything he's done."

I move from the chair to sit on the edge of the bed. "I know it's hard. But it buys us time. It keeps your family safe while we handle things."

"How am I supposed to do this?" Her voice is barely above a whisper. "How can I make him believe me? No, no I can’t bear to be within a thousand yards of that man."

"And you won’t be. You’ll communicate by text," I say firmly. "I won't risk you being physically near him."

She looks up at me, her eyes swimming with tears. "You really think this will work?"

"Elliott's ego is his weakness. He believes he owns you, that you belong to him. If you play into that, make him think you're having second thoughts about leaving..." I pause, hating every word. "He'll believe what he wants to believe."

Hazel's gaze drops to her hands. They've stopped trembling now, her fingers laced together so tightly the blood is cutting off.

"What do I even say to him?" she asks.

"That you've been thinking about everything. That you miss certain things about your life with him." Each suggestion makes me want to heave. "We'll craft the messages carefully. Make them vague but believable."

She's quiet for a long moment, her face a battlefield of emotions. I can see her weighing her options, calculating the risks. Finally, she looks up at me.

"When? When do I need to do this?"

I stand up and pace the room, my mind already mapping out the logistics. This needs to be impeccable—Montgomery mustn't suspect any tricks.

"Not yet," I tell her. "I need to arrange everything first. Make sure all the pieces are in place."

Hazel

I watch Matteo circle the room, his shoulders solid as he plans the deception. There's something powerful about him in these moments—the way his mind works, how he calculates every possibility. It's so different from Elliott's viperish manipulation.

As Matteo continues planning, a question that's been lingering in my mind surfaces. I've been wondering about him—about how someone so protective and caring ended up in this dangerous world.

"Matteo," I interrupt his pacing softly. "Can I ask you something?"

He sits back down on the bed, immediately giving me his full attention. "Anything."

I hesitate, nervous of prying too deeply but needing to understand. "How did you end up here? The Feretti family, I mean. This life."

Something flickers across his face—a shadow of old pain. For a moment I think he might brush me off but then he sighs, running a hand through his dark hair.

"My mother died when I was twelve," he says, the unexpressed grief evident. "Cancer. Left my dad to raise me and my sister Lucia alone."

"I'm sorry," I whisper, reaching for his hand. He takes it, his thumb brushing over my knuckles.

"My dad was a gardener for rich clients in Brooklyn. Worked himself to the bone but we were only ever just scraping by." A hint of bitterness creeps into his voice. "Watching him come home exhausted every night, hands cracked and bleeding, and still not having enough for us..."

He shakes his head, eyes distant with memory.

"By fourteen I was running hustles in the neighborhood. Small stuff at first—selling cigarettes, running numbers for local bookies. By sixteen I had a decent little operation going."

"Weren't you scared?" I ask.

A smile touches his lips. "Terrified. But hunger's a powerful motivator." His expression turns serious again. "That was when Damiano found me."

"What happened?"

"I tried to run a scam on one of his businesses without knowing it was his. Instead of having me eliminated he called me in for a meeting." Matteo's voice holds a note of respect. "Said I had talent and I was wasting it on small-time jobs. Offered me work."

"What kind of work?"

"Started as a runner, delivering messages, picking up packages. Nothing too serious at first." He shrugs. "But he paid well. For the first time there was food in our fridge that didn't come from the discount shelf. Dad could cut back his hours."

"And your father? What did he think about where the money was coming from?"

Matteo's expression darkens. "He knew but we never talked about it. I think he was just relieved to see Lucia not starving instead of hand-me-downs."

I squeeze his hand gently, encouraging him to continue.

"When I was eighteen some guys jumped my dad on his way home from work. Beat him badly, took the little money he had." Matteo's jaw grips. "Turned out they were connected to a family that was pushing into Damiano's territory."

"What did you do?"

His eyes meet mine, unflinching. "I went to Damiano. He took care of it. Neutralized the guys who hurt my dad, moved us to a better apartment in a safer neighborhood. Gave my dad a job managing the grounds here at the estate—easier work, better pay."

"He gave your family safety," I murmur as understanding dawns.

Matteo nods. "After that I was his completely. Loyalty for loyalty."

The pieces of Matteo come together more clearly now—his fierce protectiveness, his unshakable loyalty to the Feretti family. It wasn't just about power or money, it was about security for the people he loved. I can relate to that.

"And your sister? Lucia?"

I watch Matteo's expression soften at the mention of his sister.

"Lucia lives in England now. Has been there since she went to college at Oxford."

"Oxford?" I can't hide my surprise. "That's impressive."

Matteo nods, pride evident in his eyes. "She was always the smart one. Got a full scholarship to study literature. Now she teaches at some fancy university there."

I try to picture this sister I've never met—a female version of Matteo perhaps but with books instead of guns, lecture halls instead of back rooms of casinos.

"Does she know?" I ask carefully. "About what you do?"

He shifts on the bed, his hand still holding mine. "She knows enough. Not the details but she understands where the money for her education really came from." His thumb traces circles on my palm. "We don't talk about it. It's better that way."

"Do you miss her?" I ask, watching his face.

Something vulnerable flashes in his eyes before he can mask it. "Every day," he admits quietly. "We talk on the phone as often as we can. With the time difference it's usually early morning for me, evening for her."

I imagine Matteo in his apartment at dawn, coffee in hand, speaking softly to his sister across an ocean. The glimpse of tenderness makes my heart ache.

"She comes back to visit but not often enough," he continues. "Maybe once a year if I'm lucky. Christmas sometimes, or summer break."

"When did you last see her?"

"Eight months ago." He runs a hand through his hair. "She's busy with her career, building her own life. It's what I wanted for her—to be far away from all this."

I hear what he doesn't say: that he deliberately keeps his sister at a distance to protect her from his world. That loving someone sometimes means letting them go.

"What's she like?" I ask, curious about this woman who shares Matteo's blood but lives such a different life.

His smile returns, wider now. "Stubborn as hell. Smart enough to argue circles around you without you realizing you've lost until it's too late." He laughs softly. "But kind, too. She volunteers to teach literacy to poor kids. Sends me pictures of her students when they read their first book solo."

I can see how much he loves her by the way his entire demeanor changes when he talks about her—the violent edge softens, his shoulders relax, his eyes warm.

"Being part of this family..." he starts, then pauses to select his words carefully. "It changes you. Makes you forget there's another way to live."

I wait, giving him space to continue.

"The Ferettis look terrifying to outsiders. And they are." His jaw tightens. "I won't lie to you, Hazel. I've done things that would make you look at me differently if you knew the details."

"Then why stay?" I ask softly.

He meets my eyes. "Loyalty. It's something most people don't understand these days. When Damiano secured my family’s safety he didn't just solve a temporary problem. He made us part of something bigger."

"Like a real family?"

"Yes and no." Matteo's voice drops lower. "It's not like a normal family where love is unconditional. Here everything comes with conditions. But those conditions are clear. You know where you stand."

I think about my own family—how I've spent years trying to protect them, never knowing if I was doing enough.

"I'm not trying to make this life look beautiful," Matteo continues, a hardness entering his voice. "It isn't. There's violence, danger, constant watching over your shoulder. People die. Sometimes they die because of decisions we make."

His honesty catches me off guard. Elliott always tried to present his world as ideal, hiding the ugliness behind closed doors.

"But there's also protection," he says. "Security. When you're loyal to the family they're loyal in return. Your problems become their problems."

"Like me," I whisper. "My problems became yours."

He nods. "The moment Evelyn brought you here you became our concern. Not just because you're her cousin but because that’s what we do. We protect our own."

"Even when it puts you all at risk?"

"Especially then." His hard fingers stroke mine. "That's the point, Hazel. Out there—" he gestures toward the window, toward the normal world beyond the mansion’s walls "—people talk about loyalty but they evaporate when things get tough. Here, we run toward the danger."

I think about how quickly the Ferettis mobilized when Elliott threatened Evelyn, how they never questioned whether helping me was worth the risk.

"It's seductive," Matteo admits. "Knowing you have this power behind you. Knowing you belong somewhere that won't abandon you when you need it most."

"But at what cost?" I ask.

His eyes hold mine, unflinching. "Everything. Your freedom. Your innocence. Parts of your soul you didn't know you could lose."

A chill runs through me, hearing the resignation in his voice.

"Is it worth it?" I whisper.

Matteo is quiet for a long moment. "For me it was. My father lived his last years in comfort. Lucia got an education, her chance at a different life." He shrugs. "I made my choice knowing what it would cost."

I hear what he isn't saying—that once you're in there's no getting out. That he's accepted this life and all its darkness as his permanent reality