Where's she?

DEIDRE

"What are you doing? Let go of me!" I cried out, attempting to push him, but he stood firm.

His tense face held a tight smile, his eyes locking onto mine.

"I should be asking you that, Cara," he said, trying to touch my face.

I slapped his hand away, glared at him, and demanded, "Stop fucking calling me that. Where are you taking me, bastard?! Why are you here? I could call the police on you..."

"You won't do that. And I don't remember you being so crude, sweetheart," Matteo murmured, his gaze fixed on mine. His eyes traced my face as if searching for something.

I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself, wanting distance from him and his reach.

It annoyed me how he stood there, acting as if we were still lovers. Maybe we were once, but seeing him now grated on my nerves.

"I should be asking why you're here," he retorted.

"It's none of your business!" I shot back, shrugging off his hand that slipped around my waist, though he held on tight.

His touch made my nipples harden, and under his scrutiny, my core dampened.

It was strange that Matteo still had an effect on me. No matter what I did, thoughts of him invaded my mind—foolish me. It seemed I hadn't learned my lessons well the last time. Perhaps this would be even worse. Yet, I was certain I had control now, not the naive teenage girl I once was.

As we exited the elevator, he pulled me into the room. Glancing around as he flicked on the light, I spotted the restaurant logo on the wall in the right corner of the room and sighed with relief.

At least Matteo hadn't brought me to an unfamiliar place where I might be trapped if he tried anything funny.

Yet, being close to the door didn't make me feel safe; it made me uneasy.

"I don't want to be here with you," I told him, struggling to maintain a steady voice. "I've got work to do, and you can't just whisk me away like this. Do you realize how much money I'm losing by being here?"

Matteo raised a thick eyebrow. "I have every right to do as I please, considering you're my wife. Or have you forgotten Mia Moglie?"

I grimaced at his use of the term "my wife." "Once again, my name is Deirdre, and our marriage was never real. It was a charade."

Matteo nodded. "True, but you didn't hold up your end of the bargain."

"Because I wanted out, and you didn't," I retorted. "You shouldn't even be here, bringing up all of that. I've moved on already."

He shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm not here to remind you of our failed marriage..."

"Sham marriage," I corrected him.

"Whatever. I'm here to claim what's rightfully mine."

A shiver ran down my spine, and I felt a cold sweat break out on my forehead. "And what exactly is that?"

"You," he replied.

Staring at him with wide eyes, I burst into laughter, unable to control myself. It was a nervous laugh, a habit I couldn't break. "You can't be serious!"

Matteo's expression remained unwavering. "I'm deadly serious. And I always get what I want."

Suppressing my giggles, I looked at Matteo. Was he joking or testing my response? His face showed no signs of amusement; instead, it remained rigid, with an intense stare. I stepped back as he approached.

"Me? You must be mistaken. We have nothing in common anymore. I walked away, remember?"

His gaze shifted to my left hand. "But your hand suggests otherwise." He pointed at the ring he had placed on my finger during our wedding ceremony. I hadn't removed it. I wasn't sure why.

It was a magnificent platinum band adorned with a dazzling princess-cut diamond, meticulously set within a halo of smaller round diamonds. It cost a fortune, and I guess one of the reasons I had kept it was I didn't have the money to pay if he asked for it.

"I'm not lying, darling. It's evident you're still holding on to me, and you always will be. No other man can stir your emotions like I did."

My teeth ground together, my anger and frustration reaching a boiling point. How could he dare assume he understood my feelings? I had moved on, or at least I believed I had.

Yet, his words echoed a truth I couldn't brush aside. My heart still skipped a beat at the mere mention of his name, and now, the memories of our time together rushed back like an overwhelming wave.

But I wouldn't let him see that, wouldn't admit it. "I've moved on, Matteo. I've built a new life."

He smirked. "Is that why you're still wearing my ring?"

I glanced at my hand, a hint of doubt flickering within me. Was it just a habit or something more? I struggled to find words to answer. I felt like a teenager again, unsure of myself.

"Can no other men make you feel the way I do, Dolcezza?" he jeered. "Is that why you can't let go? Or maybe it's because you're a gold-digger, parading yourself like a whore out there and letting that swine lay a hand on you!"

His crude words flared anger within me, and a flush of heat rose to my face. I turned my gaze away, unwilling to meet his icy stare.

He stood over me, his eyes penetrating mine like sharp daggers. I wondered how much longer he would keep scrutinizing me as if he could strangle me with his bare hands.

"Did you let another man take you to bed while you still held onto me in your heart?"

Matteo's gaze swept over me as I pulled the ring from my finger; unable to endure the taunt in his voice any longer- I hurled the ring at him.

"I only kept it to give it back when the time was right. I can't afford extravagances like you, and I never knew when you'd come begging for it."

Handing back the ring brought me both relief and a sense of guilt. The ring symbolized my connection to an Italian tycoon, even though our marriage was a façade without any real emotional ties. It made me feel like I had a place and was cherished by someone.

But Matteo had never loved me. He had never even uttered the word "love" in relation to me. He had provided a sense of being desired and looked after, which was why I'd clung to him. Yet, it hadn't been enough. I had yearned for his complete affection, even though I was well aware it would remain out of reach. Matteo was too distant and detached, and I was just one more woman in his life, a means to an end.

I gasped and recoiled as I felt a cool hand on my cheek. Looking up, I found Matteo standing before me.

"Let me live my life in peace," I pleaded, my voice quivering. "Let's pretend this never happened and move on. Please, stop pursuing me."

"I'm not here for you because I want to be," Matteo's voice was a low growl, his eyes turning darker.

As I edged back, his icy gaze assessed me, causing me to bite my lip nervously.

"What do you expect from me?" I inquired, fighting to hold back my tears. Ironically, my eyes betrayed me by welling up. "You've stated it clearly: I'm not your type of woman. So what exactly do you want? Stop tormenting me!"

Matteo's impassive, stone-gray eyes studied me briefly before his jaw clenched. "The child you took away, where is she?"