Cora Reilly

“I won’t hit you again, Matteo,” I ground out, though the words tasted foul in my mouth. “I shouldn’t have done it.”

Both men turned to me in surprise. Matteo relaxed his stance. Luca didn’t.

“I’m sorry if I hurt or scared you,” Matteo said. I couldn’t tell if he meant it or not. He had the emotionless mask down just like his brother.

“You didn’t.”

I shifted away from his hand that had moved on from my hair to my throat.

“Always,” Luca said.