Surprise washed over me. He usually held back with information like that, and it showed me how rattled he still was because of Matteo.

“I will keep an eye on him,” I said with a reassuring smile.

Luca frowned. “Romero and Sandro are both out. I will tell Romero to come back as soon as possible, but it might be an hour. I don’t like the idea of leaving you alone.”

“I won’t be alone. Matteo is here.”

“Matteo is injured and probably passed out again.”

“Luca,” I said firmly, touching his chest. “Nobody can get inside the penthouse without a code, and Matteo is still deadly when he’s injured. I’ll be fine until Romero returns.”

Luca stood and pulled one of his guns from his holster, then handed it to me. “Just in case.”

I didn’t point out that I didn’t have much practice shooting a gun. He kissed me, before he walked toward the elevator, already lifting his mobile to his ear.

The moment he was gone, I stuffed the gun into the back of my pants, then picked up the bag with Matteo’s clothes and headed toward the guest bedroom. I hesitated. Matteo and I hadn’t been alone since he’d attacked me seven months ago. Pushing back the memories, I turned the handle and slipped in quietly. My eyes landed on the bed where Matteo was stretched out, his back to me. He was covered by the blankets, only his disheveled and still matted hair peeking out.

Relieved that he was asleep, I headed toward the wardrobe on the other side of the bed to put away his clothes. I opened the door.

“I don’t think you need that gun. I’m a fucking mess anyway,” Matteo said.

I cried out, dropped the bag and whirled around, my back colliding with the wardrobe as my eyes flew to the bed. Matteo sat up, brown eyes attentive despite their swelling. He regarded me silently.

He was dressed only in sweatpants, and his upper body was covered in bruises and cuts. He looked a mess but I didn’t relax. I straightened despite my racing pulse.

He sighed. “You can stop being scared of me, Aria. I told you I’d never threaten you again, much less hurt you, and I meant it.”

I wasn’t scared. I was wary. “I got some clothes for you.”

He nodded then grimaced. “You don’t need to unpack. I won’t stay here forever. You can leave now.”

I dropped the bag and headed for the door but stopped when I saw Matteo pushing to his feet. “What are you doing?”

“Going to take a piss,” he muttered, taking a step toward the bathroom and swaying precariously.

I rushed toward him and wrapped an arm around his middle without a second thought. He leaned heavily on me for a moment before he caught himself and tried to straighten, but I didn’t let go of him. I wasn’t sure if his tension was because he didn’t want to show weakness in front of me, or because he worried his closeness would make me nervous.

His eyes met mine as I supported his weight as well as I could. “Just drop me on the bed. I’ll piss my pants,” he muttered with a twisted grin.

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous, Matteo. I will help you into the bathroom.”

He didn’t protest, and together we managed to reach the bathroom. He was heavy and tall, and I realized with Luca this would have never worked.

We stopped right beside the toilet. “Are you able to do this?”

Matteo chuckled. “What would you do if I told you no? You can hardly hold my cock.”

I blushed and released him carefully. “Well, you could sit down for once, or will that bruise your ego?” I raised my eyebrows at him.

He smirked. With his swollen eyes, bruised body and face, and matted hair, it didn’t have the desired effect. “Nothing can bruise my ego like Gianna’s hatred.” It was meant as a joke, but I caught the hint of bitterness in his voice.

I took a step back. “I’ll give you some privacy. Call if you need my help, okay?”

Matteo didn’t say anything, but he reached for his sweatpants and I took that as my cue to leave. I closed the door and hesitated a moment before I busied myself setting Matteo’s clothes out in the wardrobe. I gripped a shirt and a fresh pair of sweatpants, then put them down on the bed.

Deciding to find some food for Matteo, I went into the kitchen, picked up a ready-made pasta salad and prepared a strong black tea with lots of sugar before I returned to the guest room.

Matteo was still in the bathroom. Worry flooded me as I set down the tray and moved toward the bathroom door. The sound of the running shower made my eyes widen. In the state Matteo had been in, taking a shower seemed like a particularly bad idea.

“Matteo?” I called. Nothing. I reached for the handle then hesitated. Matteo was probably naked, and not only did that make me nervous, but I knew how ridiculously possessive Luca was. I knocked hard. “Matteo?”

Deciding this couldn’t wait, I pushed open the door and stepped in. Matteo was kneeling in the shower, his back curved, palms braced against the floor. I saw his profile. Thankfully from my vantage point his privates were hidden from my view. He was covered in scars and fresh bruises and cuts and blood was streaming down his back, probably from his head wound.

I took a hesitant step forward. “Matteo?”

His shoulder blades and arms tensed. “Leave,” he growled.

“Can you stand?” He didn’t look like he could.

Matteo slanted me a look, brown eyes hard. “You shouldn’t be here. Luca won’t like it if you see me naked.”

I huffed. “He will like it even less if you kill yourself by accident.”

“I’ve survived worse.”

Ignoring his glare, I grabbed a towel and approached him, my eyes set on his face.

I had to lean over him to reach into the shower and close off the water. My breath caught in my throat at the icy temperature. Was he trying to give himself a heart attack? By the time I’d managed to shut off the water from my awkward position, the front of my clothes were drenched and I was shivering.

Matteo watched me intently from his crouch on the ground, and there was the hint of wariness in his expression. I paused. Like Luca, he hated showing weakness, and I wasn’t someone he trusted like Luca trusted me.

I grabbed the towel from where I’d dropped it on the ground and held it out to Matteo. “Can you cover yourself?”

He surprised me by not making a funny comment as he accepted the towel and wrapped it awkwardly around his waist.

“Can you get up?”

He let out a low sound in his throat, a mix of groan and laugh, and raised an eyebrow.

“That’s a no, I suppose,” I said.

“I’m too heavy for you, trust me. Give me a moment.”

I waited and watched as his back heaved with every breath. He braced his arm against the glass of the stall, muscles flexing, and managed to get one knee up. I reached for him but he shook his head. “No,” he said harshly, then softer, “No.”

I took a step back. His body shook as he propped his arm up on his knee and braced the other against the shower stall. With a low groan, he pushed to his feet, then staggered and fell against the shower stall. The thing vibrated as if it was going to burst. I jumped forward and wedged my shoulder against Matteo’s ribs while I gripped him around the middle.

He let out a quiet sigh. “You don’t have to help me. You owe me nothing.”