Chapter 7 - The Safe House
Within an hour, Matteo had relocated Clara and Leo to a heavily fortified safe house in the upstate mountains. The secluded cabin was surrounded by ten heavily armed guards, a stark contrast to the luxurious vulnerability of the penthouse.
Matteo sat in the dimly lit living room, a glass of bourbon in his hand, staring into the roaring fireplace. He had left Elena alone in the penthouse, pretending that the break-in was an isolated hit by a low-level gang, feigning ignorance of her involvement.
Clara walked out of the bedroom, shutting the door softly behind her. "Leo is asleep. The doctor said he's just bruised, but he’ll be fine."
"And you?" Matteo asked, his eyes fixing on the dark, ugly bruise blooming along Clara’s jawline.
"I'm alive," Clara said quietly. She walked over and sat on the leather sofa next to him. "Elena sent them. She knows I found the envelope. She was trying to eliminate the loose ends."
Matteo reached out, his warm, rough fingers gently brushing the unbruised side of her cheek. The touch was electric, sending a jolt of heat straight to Clara’s core.
"She sealed her own fate tonight," Matteo said, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. "She touched what is mine."
Clara looked up, her breath catching. "Am I yours, Matteo?"
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He didn't answer with words. He leaned in and kissed her. It wasn't the cold, calculated kisses he gave Elena for the cameras. It was a desperate, burning, consuming kiss—a man starving for something real in a world built on lies. Clara melted into him, her hands threading into his thick, dark hair. For the first time in her life, she felt entirely safe in the arms of a dangerous man.
When they finally broke apart, Matteo rested his forehead against hers. "When this is over, Clara. When the blood is washed away. You and me. That is a promise."
