Page 16 of Matteo
"Angel, get all of Eleanor's shit packed and shippedback to Sydney," I command without taking my eyes off her. She's a broken doll; those defiant sparks in her eyes are flickering out. She knows the score—she's lost this round. My son and she are mine, and they're coming home with me today.
I pivot on my heel, catching Spike striding towards the door, a bag stuffed like a corpse in his grip. Kid's toys, most likely. "Come on then, Princess, let's go," I bark. Her lips press against the kid's cheek—a mother's kiss steeped in defeat. "Come on, Honey, follow the big bad wolf." Her voice is laced with sarcasm, but the undertone of surrender has me smirking.
Niko toddles toward the door, pushed gently by Eleanor's hand. Angel's right behind us, flicking switches, killing lights. We move like a shadow over her life, ready to swallow her whole. The door clicks shut, a final note to this pitiful chapter.
Outside, Spike's holding the car door open, playing doorman in this fucked-up farce we're staging. Eleanor slips in after Niko, hoisting him onto her lap instead of mine. There was a sharp twist in my gut; I had plans for a different setup. Close, with her body pressed to mine, there was no room to breathe or defy.
"Damn," I mutter under my breath. The game's still on—it's just her move. And mate, she's got no idea how relentless I can be.
"Get comfy, Princess," I sneer as I slide into the seat beside them. "It's a long ride home."
The silence in the car claws at my nerves like a rusty blade. I'm caged in my suit, every thread straining against the tension. Eleanor, an ice sculpture of defiance, sits there with Niko dozing on her lap. She knows this godforsaken quiet eats at me, gnawing away like a rat to a wire.
I catch her eye, that sharp glint of satisfaction. She savors the power she wields with nothing but silence. I grit my teeth. This is a war of wills, and I don't lose—not to the law, not to rivals, and sure as hell not to the woman who's been both my salvation and damnation.
We pull up to the airstrip, and the sight of the sleek private jet waiting feels like a lungful of fresh air. Angel's already there, coordinating like the maestro of chaos he is. I nod at him, and he smirks back, eyes scanning the perimeter like a hawk hunting prey.
"Come on, Darling," Eleanor coos, nudging Niko awake with a soft voice that doesn't reach her eyes. "Let’s get on the Mystery Machine. I hope they have Scooby snacks!" Her quip cuts through the silence, and Spike'schuckle grates on my control. I miss her fire as much as I hate it.
"Very funny, Princess," I growl, but the corner of my mouth twitches despite myself.
We board the plane, and Eleanor makes a beeline for the seat at the far end, as if a few extra feet of plush leather and cabin space could put any accurate distance between us. I watch her buckle in the kid, her movements precise and deliberate. She's playing a game she thinks she can win.
"Nice try," I mutter, stalking down the aisle after her. She looks up, that wild spark in her amber eyes flaring momentarily before she masks it with a smirk.
"Space is a premium these days," she says, all mock innocence and bullshit.
"Keep dreaming, doll," I snap, watching the muscles in her jaw tense. "You're in my world again."
She leans back, feigning relaxation, but the pulse fluttering in her neck betrays her. She's mine—always has been, always will be—and I'll drag her through hell to ensure she never forgets it.
The leather of the jet seat groans under my weight as I settle in, my gaze fixated on Eleanor. The kid's already strapped in, clueless to the storm brewing around him. I lean forward, elbows on my knees, closing the distance between us. She's got nowhere to run up here, thirty thousand feet above any semblance of her so-called independence. I make her marry me the second we land if I have to.
The sigh that slips from Eleanor is laced with defeat and resignation; music to my fucking ears. "You cannot avoid me forever, Eleanor."
"So it seems," she concedes, a trace of that fiery spirit still burning behind those guarded eyes.
I press on, relentless. "Why don’t you start with why you left?"
She meets my stare, unflinching. "This is not the time or the place for this conversation, Matteo."
"I disagree." I'm a fucking wall, immovable, demanding answers.
"Disagree all you want," she snaps back, the hint of venom in her voice making my blood sing. "I’m not having this conversation with you right now." She snatches the blanket from the neighboring seat, draping it over Niko's legs with a protective ferocity.
"Get some sleep, Honey. Hopefully, Matteo will feed us in the morning." Her words are barbed, aimed straight at my pride.
I roll my eyes but can't help watching them—a mother lioness and her cub, wrapped up in each other. The sight gnaws at something primal inside me. I'd almost forgotten how beautiful she was, even when she's spitting fire and defiance. Age hasn't dimmed her, only sharpened her edges, made her more intoxicating.
But she won't slip through my fingers again. No fucking chance. A wild thought crosses my mind, dark and twisted. Chip her like a goddamn dog, I think silently. Make sure she never strays too far.
"Already on it Boss," Angel murmurs from across the aisle. His voice is quiet, but the implication is as loud as a gunshot.
Can he read my thoughts, or has he just learned to dance to the tune of my madness? Doesn't matter. Either way, he's got my back.
Eleanor's breath evens out, and I watch her chest rise and fall in peaceful rhythm. My heart hammers against my ribs, a reminder that everything I want is within arm's reach, asleep and vulnerable.
She's mine—always has been. And I'll brand her soul with my name if that's what it takes to keep her.
