“How about we change the subject?” His touch retreats. “Tell me why you’re watching Costa.”
I chill at the whiplash in conversation. Here I’d been stuck in visions of heated flesh and sweaty skin while he’s had Emmanuel at the forefront of his mind the entire time. “Why are you?”
He grins. “I’m sensing trust issues.”
What he’s sensing is annoyance. I shouldn’t have been stupid enough to let down my guard. Instead of exposing my emotions, I grab a chicken stick and force myself to eat.
“I still think one of them broke your heart,” he continues. “What I can’t figure out is if it was recent. Maybe this is a childhood grievance. That would explain why you were so close to them without fear of being recognized.”
“You’re partially correct,” I concede, hoping the slight forward momentum will be enough to tide him over. It isn’t a lie, either. I didn’t need to be in soul-deep love with Benji to have my heart shattered when the Costas stole him from me. He wasn’t merely a husband. He was a father to our gorgeous daughter. And a good father at that.
“Which one?” He wipes the back of his hand over his mouth. “Which brother is to blame?”
“Does it matter?”
He eyes me for a long moment. Staring. Scrutinizing. “I guess not.”
“It’s your turn now.” I finish the chicken stick and reach for another. “Why do you spy on them?”
“They’ve screwed me over more than once, and I don’t plan to let it happen again.”
The hair on the back of my neck rises. “Business or personal?”
“Does it matter?” He mimics my previous reply.
Yes, it does.
He said he works in hospitality. He owns clubs. In the eyes of the naive world, Emmanuel Costa is nowhere near that line of work. But I know better. I’m well aware the ties likely to bind them are drugs.
“I’ve said something to scare you.” He discards his bamboo skewer on the side of the plate and frowns. “What is it?”
“I’m not scared.” I take another bite of chicken, acting casual even though the risks are rising. “Why do you keep asking that? Are people usually frightened of you? Is that why you assume I’m the same?”
He eyes me, his gaze never wavering.
I’m right.
He’s feared.
Why?
The thought should be enough for me to join the tally of those who are fearful. It should. However, the tingle running down my spine is far from fear-based.
“You’re not going to answer me?” I taunt. “Why is that, Matthew?”
His jaw ticks as he breathes deep, letting the air out slowly. “You’re right. I guess it is a default.”
“Are you going to tell me why?”
His stare narrows. It isn’t in anger. The intensity is something else. Shame, maybe. “Designer suits and fancy restaurants haven’t always been a baseline, amore mio. I’ve had hardships, and those dark times had me doing anything to claw my way to the light. But that’s where I am now—in better days.”
His honesty is unnerving. Invigorating. I’m not used to people being open with me. Not when the men who usually surround me hoard their secrets as if their lives depend on the truth remaining buried.
This conversation is a gift. An offering.
“Were those hardships caused by the Costas?” I ask.
He continues to stare, long heartbeats ticking by as his chocolate gaze builds bridges between us. “Some. Yes.”
Another thrill skitters down my back, the tingles hitting every nerve, spreading through every muscle. He’s giving me so much. Information. Insight. Maybe my trip here wasn’t a waste after all.
“Now it’s your turn.” He rests his elbows on the bench, unshakable. “Tell me what knowledge you’re seeking about them. Tell me what you already know. Better yet, tell me about you, and put those assholes to the back of your mind.”
Guilt stabs between my ribs. Sharp and fast.
This business of secret spilling was always going to be one-sided. He can’t know about me. Not the real me.
“I’ve learned a few things about them that isn’t common knowledge.” I dilute my admission, hoping to appease him with tidbits. “And not all of it makes sense. I’m aware Costa has four children, but he only acknowledges three of them. Their oldest son, Dane, is in hiding, for reasons unknown.”
“It’s Dante,” he corrects. “And he’s estranged, not in hiding.”
My heart kicks with the insight. “You know about him?”
“Of course I do.” There’s the slightest edge of superiority to his tone. Or maybe it’s disappointment that I haven’t done thorough research. “They attempted to bury evidence of his existence years ago. But there are still clues if you look deep enough.”
“I also know Emmanuel’s wife comes from a long line of Italian mafia,” I add, hoping to redeem myself.
I don’t.
He doesn’t react to the meatier morsel of information either, making me question if he’s a master of schooling his expression, or if he knows all there is to know about my enemies.
“Were you aware of that, too?” I raise a brow.
“I was, but not many people are. They go to a lot of effort to keep that information from going public.”
“They should’ve tried harder.”
I’m boasting for no reason. Cole was the one who obtained the knowledge. Not me. I only had the good fortune of overhearing him relay the news to Hunter.
“You’re quite the sleuth, aren’t you?” His compliment is slight, even a touch sardonic, and yet my heart warms. My stomach tenses.
This isn’t good.
I’m succumbing to him. It’s ridiculous and uncalled for. Dangerous and entirely stupid. My siblings would despise the choices I’m making. The risks I’m taking. And they already hate me enough.
“I’m sorry, Matthew, but this was a mistake.” I hitch my purse strap onto my shoulder and brace my palms on the table. “I should go.”
“What? Why?” His brow snaps tight, concern taking over his entire face all the way to the thinning line of his tempting lips. “We just sat down.”
“I know, but…” The squeeze in my stomach increases, the war between want and obligation waging inside me. I came here for revenge. For redemption. Not for a romantic rendezvous.
“But you don’t want to share any more of your secrets,” he finishes for me. “You’ve decided you’ve got what you want and now it’s time to leave.”
Yes… No… Maybe.
I can’t tell him what he wants to know. I refuse to divulge who I am or why I’m really here.
He wouldn’t look at me the same way if I did, and I want his devouring attention to stay with me forever.
“I have a lot more information to give, Layla.”
My insides twist. Not only due to the potential intelligence I’m giving up, but because he wants me to stay. Nobody has ever wanted me to stay before.
“I know.” I swallow and push to my feet. “Regardless, it’s best if I leave.”
“Why?” The question is growled with delicious determination. “At least give me the respect of telling me an honest answer.”