Gianna Matteo was in a strange mood, had been since she had found me in the living room two nights before. He hadn’t said much, which was unusual for him. I wasn’t sure if he was upset about something I had done, and I didn’t really care.
I had promised myself that night that I would have to put an end to whatever was going on between him and me. I had vowed to myself that I would never become one of those women, that I would never marry a Made Men, much less develop feelings for him.
It was only five days before Christmas, but surely both of us had not yet caught the Christmas spirit.
There was not a single piece of Christmas decoration in our apartment. I had thought of asking Matthew to buy a tree and decorate it together, but then the panic had returned and I had said nothing. Instead I had accepted the strange state of mind between us almost with relief.
Matthew tightened the steering wheel with a steely grip as we drove away from the last Christmas party of the season. The hosts had rented an abandoned warehouse and turned it into a winter wonderland with fake snow and a real ice bar. Aria and Luke were still there but Matthew’s bad temper had prompted Luke to send us away early. He was probably afraid that Matteo would end up killing someone again. I couldn’t blame him.
The road was covered with a thin layer of frost that glistened in the light of our spotlights.
“You know what’s funny?” asked Matteo in a strained voice.
I cast a glance toward him, his body tense and his expression somber.
“Every time you think I’m not looking at you, you look happy and then the moment our eyes meet, it’s like ‘poof’ and the happiness goes away.”
I wasn’t sure what to say to him.
“Why do you insist on being unhappy?”
Before I could formulate an answer, Matthew suddenly lowered the gas. I was crushed in the seat. “What are you doing? You don’t have to kill us because you’re pissed off.
Matteo peered into the side mirror. “I’m not trying to kill us. I’m trying to save our lives.”
Something collided with our trunk. I looked over my shoulder. Flashlights from another SUV filled the rear window.
“Who are they?” I asked.
“The Russians I guess. I noticed them too late.
Fuck them. This happens when I get distracted by other shit.
We were the only cars in this part of the industrial area. Matthew turned the steering wheel and we turned the corner into a narrow street between two tall warehouses.
“Head down,” barked Matteo.
I quickly obeyed. Struggling against the seat belt, I leaned forward. A second later, our pursuers shot at us. The rear window exploded and shrapnel rained down on us.
Matteo did not react; he kept driving like a madman. Somehow he had even managed to pull out his gun.
I clung to the seat, my head pressed against my legs as I jerked back and forth with every turn and turn of the car. Tires screeched, gunfire hissed through the air , windows burst. A new shower of shrapnel rained down on me as the rear side window exploded as well.
“Fuck,” Matteo growled as he tried to connect with his phone, probably to call Luca. Fear gripped my throat tightly. Fear for my life was only a small part of it. Seeing Matteo in the line of fire terrified me even more. He could not lower his head. One bullet and everything could end.
We turned another corner and I slammed into the door. I closed my eyes, struggling against the growing malaise.
More gunfire rang out and Matthew let out a hiss. I peered to the side. Matteo was still driving and shooting at our pursuers, but he was bleeding from wounds in his arm and shoulder. At that moment another bullet grazed his head, blood splattered everywhere, even on my face. Matthew did not even seem to care; he fired another series of shots.
Suddenly we were turning and the car was out of control. I wrapped my arms around my chest as I threw myself onto the seat. Through half-closed eyes I saw our car hurtle into a huge wall and then there was a deafening crash as we slammed into it. My body snapped forward, the air rushed out of me as I was thrown against the seat belt. It clipped my collarbone and my vision went black. Then something soft exploded in my face, stopping my impact.
I didn’t know how long I lay inert on the seat belt, my face buried in the deflating airbag as I tried to catch my breath. My ears were ringing, but eventually everything vanished and silence greeted me. With a groan I sat up, ignoring my throbbing headache. Smoke rose from our crushed hood, slowly filling the car through the broken windows. I blinked to get rid of the spots dancing in and out of my sight. My whole body was sore but nothing seemed to be broken. At least I could move.
I turned to the driver’s side and stood still. It was dark in the car. Our lights were broken but somewhere a distant glow illuminated my surroundings. Matteo was slumped over the steering wheel. Like many mob cars, the ‘driver did not have an airbag because it was annoying during chases. Blood clung his dark hair to his forehead, soaked his shirt, and dripped onto his pants. So much blood. He must have hit his head against the steering wheel or maybe the dashboard when we hit the wall.
Was he dead?
He wasn’t moving and I couldn’t see if he was breathing . I held my breath, waiting to hear a sound. There was nothing. I blinked, then peered behind me to see where our pursuers were. Their car had crashed into another building and had already caught fire. They were definitely dead. Was our car also going to start burning? I needed to get out.
Wasn’t this the chance I had been waiting for? Matthew and I were alone. No one was here to stop me from escaping.
I could leave and be free. I unbuckled my belt, then glanced at Matteo again. I needed to check if he was dead, but for some reason I couldn’t. What if he was really gone? What if he was dead? My throat was tight and irritated. My lungs refused to work as panic crept through my body. God, what if he had died? What was wrong with me? Didn’t I want him out of my life six months ago? This was my chance, probably the ‘only chance I would ever have. The smell of gas entered my nose and the smoke inside the car began to burn in my eyes. Matteo was a murderer. He was not a good man. If you asked most people, they would say he deserved death.
With trembling fingers I reached out and touched Matteo’s shoulder. He still felt warm but that did not mean he was alive. Slowly I lifted my hand up to brush against his blood-slick throat. My fingers wandered over his skin, finding nothing, pressing and searching, until finally a soft pulsation beat against my fingertips.
I exhaled, relief hitting me like a hammer. Still alive. He was still alive. Thank goodness. With a sizzle and a burst of fire spread under the hood of the car. I grabbed the door handle and pushed, but it did not move, distorted by the crash. Panic spread through my chest as smoke and heat filled the car, and I began to scratch at the door. I shifted, lowered the sleeve of my hand, and roughly cleaned the window frame of the broken remnants before climbing out of the car headfirst. When I finally felt solid ground under my feet, I almost fell to my knees because my legs were shaking like crazy. Now the whole hood was on fire and Matthew was still in the driver’s seat. I ran around the car, toward his door, praying it wasn’t stuck like mine was. I didn’t think I could drag Matteo through a narrow window without his help. I grabbed the car door and pulled as hard as I could.
With a screech it opened and I fell off my seat. I held my breath, then stumbled to my feet and grabbed Matteo’s arm. He was not wearing a seat belt, so I was able to pull him out of the car with no problem. He fell on the asphalt a little too hard and I gasped, then quickly hooked my hand under his armpits and pulled him out of the car that was catching fire too fast.
Matthew was heavy, and dragging him out of the car with his body in pain hurt like hell, but I didn’t stop until I was sure he was at a safe distance in case of an explosion. I let him go before straightening up and wiping the blood from my palms on my pants. Matteo’s eyes were closed, his face turned to the side, showing his striking profile. Strands of hair were stuck to his bloody forehead and a red puddle was rapidly spreading around his head, dripping from the wound to his head. I could see his chest rise and fall. My eyes scanned our surroundings. The Russians’ car was already on fire, dark columns of smoke rose skyward. We were in the middle of nowhere, an abandoned industrial area where no one would set foot for no reason. But the smoke would surely attract attention.
Someone would find Matthew before it was too late.
Right?
I would have to run away. I should want to escape. I began to walk away from Matteo’s motionless silhouette on the ground, ignoring the way guilt clutched my throat. He had forced me into a marriage I never wanted. He knew I would take the first opportunity to run away. I took another step back. Matthew had chosen a path of danger and death. Even if he died today, that was what he had chosen for himself.
This was not the life I wanted.
I turned away, then paused. I closed my eyes.
In the distance the flames crackled. Someone would find Matteo in time. And even if they didn’t, I wouldn’t care.
I didn’t care about him. I didn’t. And I certainly shouldn’t.
I should hate him. I should hate what he was and what he meant to me. I should that he could not give up on me, no matter how many times I rejected him. Why couldn’t he give up ?
I started to move away, one small step after another.
Once out of town I would call Aria and ask her about Matteo.
Then it would be too late for him.
Maybe.
Or maybe not.
Matteo was tough. A head wound would not kill him.
I cast a glance over my shoulder and my eyes found Matteo’s motionless body lying on the concrete.
Behind him cars were burning, dyeing the city’s lit sky black with their smoke.
Funereal black.
The pool of blood around Matteo’s head looked black from my point of view, and it had grown even more so. ” I don’t want to love you,” I whispered as I stopped short, closing my eyes. But I did. I loved Matthew.
My eyes grew wide, I turned and started to turn back, then began to run, getting faster and faster , until I began to run. I knelt beside Matteo, fumbling through my pockets looking for my phone but coming up empty. It was in my purse. My gaze went to the burning car where I had left my things. Stupid Gianna.
I slipped my hand into Matteo’s pocket and let out a shuddering sigh as I grabbed his phone. Without wasting time scrolling through his contacts, I pressed speed dial.
“I don’t feel like talking to you, Matteo. You acted like a big asshole tonight,” Luca’s sharp voice rang in my ear .
I let out a sob.
“Gianna?” I could hear Aria in the background but I couldn’t hear what she was saying.
“She’s dying,” I said after a moment, my voice flat and voiceless.
“What are you talking about? Give me Matthew.”
“I can’t. The Russians attacked us. There is so much blood, Luca, so much blood.
“Is Matteo alive?” For the first time since Aria had almost died, Luca looked worried.
My eyes raced to the body next to me. To my husband.
Was it my imagination or had Matteo’s chest stopped moving? I pressed my palm to his blood-soaked shirt.
There was nothing there. “He is not breathing. He was a moment ago, but he isn’t anymore. Hysteria worked its way into my voice.
“Gianna, you have to do CPR. I will be there soon. I have your GPS coordinates. But you will have to get him breathing, otherwise it will be too late.” I said nothing, just stared at the man I loved.
I wanted to hate him, I had given it my all, and at first there had been hatred, a lot of it, but not all of it had been directed at Matthew, and now it seemed that there was hardly any left, and it seemed ridiculous. to hold back what little I still harbored.
“Gianna?” Luca’s voice pierced me. I could hear commotion in the background, the sound of a car coming to life. I put Luca on speaker and cupped Matteo’s face, then pressed my lips against his and blew air into his lungs. I was trying to remember how often to apply pressure as I placed my hands against his rib cage. I knew nothing about CPR , other than what I had seen on TV. Why had I never paid more attention? What if Matthew died because I was doing something wrong?
Luca’s next words ran through my thoughts. I had forgotten he was on the phone. “I know you feel that Matteo trapped you, that he ruined your life, but no matter what you think, he didn’t do it to make you miserable. For some inexplicable reason Matteo loves you. You don’t have to believe me. You can continue to hate him but don’t leave him alone, not now. If you help me save his life, I will guarantee your freedom. I swear it on my honor and on my life. Aria is here.
She is a witness. You will get money, a new identity and even protection from the Outfit if you wish. It’s all yours if you save his life.
“All right,” I said, pressing Matteo’s chest again. I wasn’t even sure why I had said that.
“You have to do chest compressions. Hard and fast.
Don’t worry about breaking his ribs. Thirty thrusts, two breaths. Fast.”
I sped up the compressions, then leaned over Matthew to inhale twice into his mouth. “He’s not responding!” I was breathless as I started all over again from the beginning.
“Keep doing it.”
And I did, even though my fingers were cramping. They were red and sticky with blood. I couldn’t even see through my eyes anymore. They were blurred with tears. Why couldn’t I stop crying? I cried for a man like Matthew but hardly shed a tear for Sid.
“We’ll be there in ten minutes,” Luca said. “How is Matteo?”
I didn’t answer. I pushed harder against Matteo’s chest and then he took a deep breath. I froze, almost afraid I had imagined it. I quickly leaned over his face and felt the gentle breeze of his breath against my cheek. I brushed his throat with trembling fingers, searching for his pulse. It wasn’t fast and strong as usual, but it was there. I closed my eyes for a moment, wiped away a few annoying tears, then opened them again. I threw myself on my butt and stretched my legs. I wanted to hold Matthew’s head on my lap, but I was afraid of hurting his neck, so I simply placed my palm on his chest to make sure of his steady heartbeat.
His blood was starting to soak my pants, but I didn’t care .
“Gianna? Are you still there?”
“YES. Matthew is breathing again.”
There was a pause. “Good,” Luca said quietly. “Stay where you are.”
“Don’t worry.” I tilted my head back and stared at the sky strewn with stars and veiled in smoke. The gentle rise and fall of Matthew’s chest was almost like a lullaby, and my eyes began to droop. My headache had worsened again . I probably had a concussion.
The roar of an engine made my head spin. Two cars were racing in our direction. The one in front was Luca’s Aston Martin and the one behind belonged to his friend Romero. I quickly moved my hand away from Matteo’s chest and stood up, although my vision was blurred.
The Aston came to a stop with smoking tires and Luca jumped out. He rushed toward Matteo, barely devoting a glance to me as he knelt beside his brother and palmed his throat. He did a quick scan of Matteo’s wounds and then Romero and Sandro were already beside him.
Someone touched my shoulder and then Aria appeared in my field of vision. She wrapped her arms around me and I slumped against her, feeling drained. “Are you hurt?”
“Maybe. Probably. I don’t know.”
“Take her away,” Luca said. “Take my car and bring it to our apartment.”
I pulled back to look at him. “Where are you taking Matteo?”
“To the hospital. This is too serious for our doctor,” he said, then smiled coldly. “Don’t worry. I will keep my promise.
When I return to the apartment, we will make the necessary arrangements to ensure your freedom.” His eyes were hard.
I had a feeling that he would not mind very much if I died in the accident .
“Maybe Gianna wants to go to the hospital with Matteo,” Aria suggested in a low voice as Luca and Sandro carefully lifted Matteo and carried him to the jeep. Romero was talking to the soldiers on the phone, making arrangements to keep the police out of this.
“She doesn’t do that,” Luca said firmly. “Help her gather her things from Matteo’s apartment so we can get her settled in her new life before my brother comes home.”
Why didn’t I protest? Why couldn’t I admit my feelings even now?
Aria gave me an inquiring look but I shrugged, ignoring the heat behind my eyes and the tense feeling in my chest as I watched them take Matteo away. “We can follow them in our car,” she whispered.
I swallowed, then shook my head. “NO. Luca is right. I have to pack.”
Frowning, but not protesting, Aria led me toward the Aston Martin.