RILEY HAS BEEN silent for the entire trip back to Palermo... eerily silent. And for the first time in my life, I'm terrified of losing someone.
Though I can't blame her for finally being scared off. It's no secret to me who the villain here is, and I'm damn sure that it's not my wife. Yet she's the one whose name is being dragged through the mud.
I wince as I think about it. I know damn well that, by this point, the story will have spread across the world. Even the people Riley knows back in America... they will hear.
And though it sickens me to think how much Emilia fooled me, in that moment I make a decision that I never thought I'd make.
If it means that she'll leave Riley alone, then Emilia can have the company. But I won't allow this sweet girl to be dragged down with me, not anymore.
"I have to go upstairs to see if Rossi is still there," I tell her as the car stops in front of the tower that holds Benenati Enterprises. "And then we'll go home and talk."
She nods listlessly.
I wince inwardly. I'd give anything to know what's going through her head in that moment.
Whatever it is, I suspect I won't like it.
Hesitating to get one last look at her, I move to slide out of the car. Her voice stops me, holding me in place.
"This is what happens, I guess. I should have known." She smiles at me humorlessly. "Just please... I don't care what else happens. But I need to know that you believe me. That I didn't do this."
Incredulity bangs me over the head.
"I never thought that." I say carefully, climbing back into the car, sliding across the bench seat toward her. "Why on earth would you think that?"
Riley stares at me. "You believe me?"
"Of course I do." Cupping her face in my hands, almost giddy with relief, I stroke my thumbs over her cheekbones. "I may not know you very well yet, cara mia, but I do know that you're just not that kind of person."
And add to that that my stepsister is the spawn of Satan, and we have a winner.
"Have you been thinking that I thought you were guilty, this whole time?" I feel awful. The entire flight back from Greece I've been stewing over the fact that Emilia managed to trick me, to catch me off guard. I'd assumed that Riley was upset that her reputation has been torn to shreds, not that she thought I was blaming her.
Riley nods, and I resist the urge to shake her with frustration. Rather than melting into my arms, though, she glares and shoves me away.
"You don't understand how bad this is going to get!" She cried. "I thought you did your research on me. My mother is a whore. A literal whore. She raised me in a piece of shit trailer with whatever man happened to be paying her bills that week. I haven't had two nickels to rub together once in my entire life. The only reason I accepted this marriage was so that I could avoid the same future for myself!"
She sucks in a deep breath as soon as she's done speaking, as if she realizes what she just said. I, myself, feel as though she has sucker punched me in the gut.
"The only reason?" I ask quietly. I know, deep down I know, that that's not the case. And yet I never thought that my stepsister was evil rather than merely cruel.
Am I that blind?
"Matteo, that's not what I meant." The words rush out of Riley's mouth. "You know that's not how I feel."
I don't even know how I feel in that moment. I have no right to be upset—the entire premise of our marriage was that Riley needed money, and I needed a wife.
And yet... is that really all there is?
I hold up my hand again, stopping her speech. "I need to go deal with this mess. After I'm done we'll sit down and talk about... about our future. Okay?"
Riley's eyes widen, and I swallow past a great lump in my throat.
I am Matteo Benenati. I've never even had a serious girlfriend, because I've never wanted to be tied down when there was so much life to be lived.
And now I'm thinking about keeping my wife.
"I'll be back as soon as I can. Just remember. You are the light in my darkness. Now that I've found you, I won't let you go so easily."
The air outside the car is stifling. Alexi lent us his private jet for the flight back, and I took the time to change into a sharp suit, knowing I would need every tool at my disposal to fix this.
I just want to be back on the yacht with Riley. In fact, I don't care if I ever see the inside of this damn building ever again.
Once inside though, I can immediately tell that something is wrong. The tower that houses Benenati Enterprises is usually bustling with activity. Today... it's empty. Eerily silent.
The hair on the back of my neck stands up as foreboding washes over me.
What has Emilia done?
I take the elevator up to my offices on the top floor and as I do, I realize that I've never been in the lift alone. It's always crowded with people.
Where has everyone gone?
Fury drives my movement as the doors open. I stride through my private reception area, and into my office. I'm not overly surprised to find Emilia sitting at my desk primly, one leg crossed over the other.
"You're fired." I spit out at her. "I can't stop this ridiculous clause of Carmine's from playing out, but I still have the authority to take your job. Consider it taken, and get out."
"You might want to hear what I have to say first." Idly, she holds her hand out in front of her, inspects nails that she's painted glossy red.
"Get out before I have security carry you out. That will make a great shot for the paparazzi." I've never before wanted to strike a woman, but this creature... she's not a woman. She's a demon.
She's ruining Riley's life.
"Perhaps you haven't noticed, brother dearest, but there is no security to escort me anywhere." She smiles, lets her fingers trail down the low neck of her wrap around dress. I look away, disgusted. "Since news broke this morning of their incompetent acting CEO allowing his little bride to swindle the company out of everything, they're all looking for new jobs."
Her words give me a pang, but I can't focus on it. Some of those employees have been around since I was a child. I don't know what she did to get rid of them, but I'm sure it can be fixed.
It doesn't stop my rage.
"How was the honeymoon?" She continues, smiling maliciously up at me. "Have you had to look outside the marital bed yet? Or maybe she has... that's more her style. Or her mother's. Isn't it?"
"I know about her mother, if that's what you're getting at." I spit out the words, clenching my fists at my side, trying to mentally get a step ahead of her. What does she want? "There's nothing you can tell me about Riley that will change my opinion of her."
There—there. The tiniest flicker of something works across Emilia's face, but it's gone in the blink of an eye.
"I was worried that you might say that." Emilia smiles, and doesn't look concerned at all. "So let me lay this out for you. I want what was promised to me. Either I get it, or I fail to pull the plug on a nasty little fall that little Miss Riley is set up to take for a mafia drug ring."
"A drug ring?" I'm incredulous. "Are you nuts?"
Something in my choice of words seems to make Emilia snap. She slams her hands on the desk, standing, baring her teeth at me. "I am not crazy, Matteo Benenati. But I've paid in full for what I was promised. And I'll get it, or your wifey poo goes to jail for life. And a sweet little thing like that? I think we both know what will happen to her there."
"What is it that you think you were promised?" I want to punch Emilia in the teeth, but there's a look in her eye, a slightly unstable one, that makes me think I should play along.
She smiles, and looks like nothing so much as a snake. "Ever since I first joined your family, Matteo, your father promised me two things... Benenati Enterprises. And you."
I bark out a laugh.... then fall silent. The Carmine I knew was a chauvinist pig of the highest order, and I would never have imagined that he would leave his legacy to a woman.
Then again, didn't he open us up to the possibility of just that with this ridiculous clause in his will.
"He gave you a shot at it, Emilia." I try to sound reasonable. "You know that's more than he had to do."
She shakes her head, the movement wild. When those dark eyes focus in on me, I realize that her pupils are so dilated I can't differentiate between them and the thin ring of dark iris that surrounds them.
She looks more than a little crazy.
"He gave me a shot at the company, yes. But a shot isn't possession. And it doesn't clear up the matter of him promising me you." She steps toward me, and the cloying scent of her perfume, and of sweat, makes its way to my nose. After days spent with the fresh scent of Riley's shampoo, it makes me nauseous.
"I'm married, Emilia." And even if I wasn't...
I wonder now, how I ever lusted after this woman. It's so... wrong.
"That can be taken care of." Emilia says this so matter of factly that I think I must not have heard her correctly. But when the words sink in, a chill runs through my blood.
I think of Riley, downstairs in the car, and have to resist the urge to run straight toward her. She's with Franco. She's fine.
But in that moment, I'm not sure I trust my bride with anyone but myself.
Emilia laughs at my expression, a tinkling little sounds that grates on nerves that have just gone raw. "Oh, your little wifey is safe as can be, Matteo. As long as you give me the down payment I ask for."
"How am I supposed to do that, when you siphoned off all of my money?" I bite out through gritted teeth.
Emilia's expression darkens. She stalks across the room toward me, and I, a man who hasn't been afraid since his father nearly bashed in his skull, feel fear.
"I made you a very nice offer, Matteo, that could have let us all live happily ever after. You hurt my feelings terribly when you refused. And so rudely. So now I need something more."
"I need your body. Right now. Or your little wife is going down."
RILEY
Matteo has been upstairs for a very, very long time.
And in that time I haven't seen a single person go in or out of the tower.
Something's not right.
With trembling fingers, I wrench open the car door. Franco is outside, leaning against it. He looks at me questioningly as I start up the stairs to the tower.
"I'm just going to see what's taking Matteo so long." I laugh nervously. I don't know how I know, but I do. Something's just not right here.
"I'll come with you." He looks around at the lack of people and visibly shudders. "Creepy vibe going down today."
He follows me into the elevator, and up the interminably long ride to Matteo's office. He doesn't ask me about the headlines, and I'm sure as hell not going to bring them up.
We step out into the empty reception area—no secretary, no assistants. Franco's brow furrows.
"I'll wait here."
I nod, my feet taking me across the thick carpeting to Matteo's office. I'm still wearing the backless sundress, and I shiver as air conditioning wafts over my shoulders.
There are voices inside, quiet but definitely there. I sigh with relief, swinging open the heavy wooden door.
"Matteo? Are you almost done?" I step inside.
And my world shatters.
Matteo is leaning back against the desk, his shirt open, his tie askew, and his pants around his ankles. Straddling his hips is Emilia.
His stepsister.
The engineer of this entire mess.
"Matteo?" They're not having sex, not yet, but they're definitely on their way.
Matteo looks at me, and his face is absolutely expressionless, his eyes empty. I can't breathe. This man was inside of me just hours ago.
He blinks, then, as though with an effort, pushes himself up. "I didn't think you'd find out about this. You should have stayed in the car."
My mouth works, but no sound comes out. All the noise is inside, the sound of my heart shattering into a million pieces.
"If you tell anyone, it won't end well for you." Again, that blank look. "Emilia and I have reached an... agreement. You're no longer under any obligation to pretend to be my wife. The money is yours. Just go home."
A choked sound escapes my throat. I tear my gaze from Matteo to Emilia, and visibly recoil when I meet those dark eyes.
I've never seen so much hatred on a person's face.
"Go on, little one." Emilia smirks at me, waving a hand in dismissal. And in that moment I hate her, hate her more than I've ever hated my mother, or the men who used her.
I hate her for taking away what I've only just gotten.
I back away from the horrible scene, looking again at Matteo. His jaw is tense, but other than that, there is no expression on his face.
Do not cry. Do not cry.
Turning, I march woodenly from the office, slamming the door behind me. I walk right across the lobby, to where Franco is waiting for me.
"Is he in there?" Franco asks, hurrying to follow me as I rush at the elevators. I'm holding it together, but just by a thread, and when he sees my face, he visibly recoils.
"Oh, he's in there, all right. And he's very, very busy." I barely choke back a sob as the elevator doors open, and I stumble into the lift. Franco follows me, his expression concerned.
I feel so full, I can barely contain it. The ride down seems interminably long.
Just long enough that, by the time I reach the bottom, a though has wormed its way through everything I'm feeling.
When I first met Matteo... he didn't hesitate to be cruel. His tongue was a whip, one that he wielded at every opportunity.
The man I just saw in the office? He was wearing a mask. One that Matteo uses when he doesn't want anyone to know what he feels.
Just like I thought, something's not right. But it's not that Matteo is cheating on me.
The elevator doors open to the front desk in the lobby. Beyond it I can see the empty security station, twenty monitors flickering through shots of empty offices.
"Franco..." slowly I step from the elevator, then turn to Matteo's massive driver and body guard. "Are there security cameras in Matteo's office?"
He eyes me curiously, but doesn't accuse me of anything, and for that I'll be forever grateful. But he shakes his head, and I feel my spirits plummet.
"Damn it. Okay." I'm probably crazy anyway.
"There's a microphone, though. Used to be his daddy's office. Carmine was paranoid of being blackmailed, recorded everything."
"Can we access that from down here?" Adrenaline surges through my veins, hot and potent.
Franco does look at me strangely that time, but nods. "I don't know what you're doing, Signora Benenati, but I like you." Gesturing, he leads me over to the security monitors. There he taps a few buttons, and smiles when a monitor crackles to life.
"Ah, Matteo got a camera installed after all. Smart boy." He taps more buttons, and the camera zooms in.
Matteo is again leaning back against the desk. Emilia has her hands wrapped around his erection, and I feel sick at the sight.
But... it doesn't seem right. He's not moving. I know firsthand that that's not how he makes love.
"Can we turn up the volume?" My throat is dry, scratchy. Surely I'm not seeing what I think I'm seeing.
Matteo turns his face toward the camera, and, contrary to the lack of expression that he had while I was in the room, now his features are painted in anger and fear. Franco turns up the volume; the sound isn't totally clear, but I can make out Emilia's maniacal laugh... and can distinctly hear Matteo say no.
"No, Emilia. Please don't do this." A full body tremor wracks him, and she just smiles and continues to work on his cock. "You know I'll do this for Riley... I'll do anything... but can't you see you're not getting what you really want? I don't want this."
She backhands him. His entire body clenches, and I can see his need to pry her off of him bodily. But physical force isn't the only thing that can keep a person in place.
Oh my God.
That crazy bitch is about to rape my husband.
I sprint toward the elevator. "Make a copy of that and hide it!" I shout back over my shoulder at Franco.
"Come on, come on!" I jam my finger on the elevator buttons. Instinct tells me to run for the stairs, but a tiny voice of reason reminds me that I can't run up thirty flights of stairs faster than I can go in the elevator.
Cold sweat is running down my back by the time the elevator reaches the top floor again. I haven't thought this through, but I just know that I can't allow Matteo to let this happen to him, just for me.
I burst through the doors of his office, chest heaving. Matteo's face floods with relief when he sees me, before he wrestles the passive mask back in place.
"Get off of him." I've never been in a bitch fight in my life, and I don't know what has come over me, but before I can even think, I'm wrestling my way in between them, shoving Emilia off of Matteo.
Off of my husband.
"Sorry kitten, but I only do ménage a trois with women that I'm attracted to." Emilia simpers at me then, with a forceful move that makes me sick, reaches for Matteo's cock again.
I swallow thickly. "Get the hell away from my husband."
I press back, feel Matteo's reassuring weight behind me. But then his hands are on my shoulders, pushing me away. "Cara mia, I have no choice."
"You do now that I have a recording of Emilia attempting to rape you." I flinch at my own use of the word.
Emilia whirls on me, wild eyed. "You don't know what you're talking about! I'm not forcing myself on anyone. We're meant to be together."
"You have a recording?" Matteo murmurs in my ear, his hands clutching my hips like a lifeline. I nod, my heart in my throat.
He pushes forward off the desk, tucks me behind him protectively. And as he stands tall, facing down his crazy-ass stepsister, I feel relief wash over me.
"Get out." His voice belongs to the strong, alpha male that I know. "We may not get you thrown in jail for this like you tried to do with Riley, but I think this will cast enough doubt on anything that you've tried to set up."
Emilia looks at him, dumbfounded. "What are you saying?"
Matteo shakes his head in disgust. "I'm saying, get the hell out of our lives. Before I mess with you the way you've messed with us."
Emilia screams, a sound full of pure rage and not a little bit crazy. "We belong together! He promised!"
"Emilia, go." She doesn't listen, dropping to the floor in a ball and continuing to hurl obscenities.
Matteo sighs, the sound heavy. "Emilia, please."
She doesn't appear to even hear him. I watch him hesitate, and I understand. For all that he projects that he cares for noone but himself, I know Matteo Benenati better than that.
This is his sister. And she is beyond help.
We stand there for one more long moment. Then, finally, Matteo straightens his clothes, wraps his arms around me, lifts me. I feel like I should be the one carrying him, but I understand that I need to let him take this piece of his dignity back.
And to be fair, I could use his strength. As least until I get some of my own back.