~ Massimo ~
Would Niamh really have allowed Matteo to see another man as his father? Would she have let my son grow up without a single word about the blood in his veins?
The question lived rent-free in my mind from the second I walked out of her room last night until I lay awake staring at the ceiling this morning.
I couldn't get past our discussion.
I could still see the raw animosity in her eyes when I called her father selfish—a look that told me she would have slapped me again if I hadn't held her firmly in my grip.
She stared at me like I was a monster she needed to shield herself and her son from.
My son.
She had labeled me as an unfortunate to my own son.
Did she really see me as the cruel monster she often called me?
Well, so far she has given me no reason to doubt her. I knew that she hated me.
But I also knew she craved me too.
It was in the way she looked at me, those turquoise eyes burning with a mesmerizing mix of loathing and need.
