Accardi (Genevieve and Matteo) by Allison Franklin novel Chapter 94

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Accardi

Chapter Ninety–Four

Matteo came awake with a start. He groaned as he lifted his head from the keyboard he’d fallen asleep on the night before. He screwed one eye shut as he glanced at the half–empty glass decanter. He calculated he must have drank fifteen hundred dollars worth of Glen McKenna to force himself to sleep. Expensive night.

He rubbed his temples as he looked around the room, trying to figure out what had woken him up. He tapped his phone and saw that it was past eight. He couldn’t remember at which point Genenvieve told him she was going to bed. He did remember he had been on his fourth glass.

He’d busied himself with work the moment they returned home from the funeral, trying to force the image of her in physical pain at the loss of one of his men out of his head… and the image it had created for what she would look like if it were him being buried. He shivered and shook his head, begging God to give him a moment’s reprieve. He stood up and took a few dizzying steps toward the door before he had to catch himself on a side table. Then he took a deep breath and continued down the hall to the bedroom. Hopefully Gen would still be asleep, giving him time to shower and collect his fucking self.

Matteo stumbled into the room and leaned against the dresser drawers just inside the door. He looked at the bed, expecting to see her sprawled out and snoring. His heart thudded painfully at the sheets shoved aside to reveal an empty mattress. He walked toward the bathroom, ignoring the pit in his stomach. She was probably just taking a shower of her own. He slowly pushed the door open: no steam, no sound of running water, the light was off.

“Gen?” Matteo called. Silence. Matteo immediately sobered. He straightened his spine. “Genevieve?!”

Matteo sprinted back through the bedroom. His socks caused him to slip on the hardwood of the hallway. He poked his head inside the guest bedroom, the half–bath, the sunroom. His eyes swiveled around the open area that was his living room and kitchen.

“Gen!”

Matteo looked at the door and his heart pounded harder against his ribcage. It was completely unlocked apart from a single deadbolt. The security system was armed.

“Fuck!”

Matteo stumbled back into his office, pulled his gun safe from the top drawer and placed his fingertips on the scanner. He pulled the handgun from the safe at the same time as he picked up his phone from the top of his desk. He tapped her name and put the phone to his ear as he walked back toward the front door. He heard a buzzing. He glanced around and soon found her phone sitting on top of the kitchen island. His blood ran cold. The hairs on his arms stood on end. She wouldn’t have left her phone. Then he saw her purse. His breathing was coming hard and fast as the phone still pressed to his ear went to voicemail.

He ended the call and opened the app that contained the data of everyone’s tracking implants. He scrolled through the seven names and clicked on hers. The program immediately opened and zoomed in from the sky of New York down, down, down. He tugged at his hair as the location showed this building.

“Genevieve?!” Matteo bellowed.

He yanked the door open, ignoring the warning of the alarm system. He stalked across the hall and shoved against the door to the opposite apartment. It took three knocks of his shoulder to get the door open. Again the alarm inside started to ping. He raised his gun to eye–level as he walked into the

apartment.

“Gen!”

Matteo checked every room and closet. She was nowhere. Terror gripped him: sharp and jagged. It tore his heart from his chest, sliced up his spine and burrowed into his brain. It brought back the memory of sheer panic when he’d arrived back in New York two days earlier, unable to get ahold of her and the horror of realizing why.

He started for the stairs, leading down. Maybe she hadn’t left the building yet. That’s when he noticed the door to the rooftop garden was cracked. The

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Chapter Ninety–Four

alarm in his apartment beeped five times and went silent. He ignored the silent alarm and ran up the stairs toward the roof. He pushed open the door, noticed a silhouette in the middle greenhouse and started to race across the roof. The door cracked against the glass window with the sheer force of his need to get inside. Gen jumped up from what she was doing and shrieked.

Her wide blue eyes took in his state and she took a step back. Matteo ignored her look of panic and walked down the different pathways and into the next greenhouse. His phone started to ring.

“Hello,” he answered, not bothering to look and see who it was.

“It’s… me…” Stephen said, the sound of his feet echoing along the stairwell he was running up. “I’m on… third… floor!”

“It’s fine,” Matteo said, coming back into the main greenhouse where Gen was still watching with shocked eyes. He stopped and glared across the space at her. “I’ve got her. Tell Leo and Frank, they’d have gotten the notice too.”

Matteo hung up the phone and slid it into his back pocket. Gen gave him a nervous smile and raised her little harvest basket up.

“I… I was getting herbs for an omelette,” she explained in a small voice. “Are you hungry?”

So many emotions competed for dominance in his chest as he fought to catch his breath. Terror, anger, sadness, relief, desperation all coalesced until they formed one giant hole and his emotions shut down altogether. He started toward her and she shrunk two steps back until her calves hit a raised bed. She dropped her basket and shrieked as he bent, hooked his arm around her waist and threw her over his shoulder.

“Matteo!” Gen yelled, clutching at the belt of his suit pants, nearly succeeding in yanking them down. “What are you doing?!”

He couldn’t answer. He was on autopilot. Years of preparation and training had taught his body how to handle such a disconnect from reality and it screamed one thing: Get to safety. He jogged down the stairs, gripping Gen’s thigh harshly in one hand to keep her in place as she fought for dear life not to fall. He nodded at Stephen, who was locking back the other apartment, before he strode into theirs. Matteo slammed the door shut before turning back toward it. He offloaded Gen from his shoulder and shoved her back. His hand wrapped around her neck and pinned her flush with the door. Her eyes bulged and she gasped as his fist tightened out of habit.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, relaxing his hold and flattening his palm against her collarbone instead. He turned and started to mechanically lock the various methods for keeping intruders out.

With each turn of a lock, the pain in his chest grew. It wasn’t enough. People could still get in. They could still get her. One more lock. There needed to be more. Matteo continued through the motions, applying more pressure to Gen’s chest with each click and slide. By the time he entered the numbers for the security system, his breath was coming in short halting gasps. His vision tunneled. His heart threatened to break through his ribcage. Beneath his palm he could feel Gen’s heart lurching in a similar manner. He sensed her fear which only made him spiral further.

“Matteo. You’re having a panic attack,” Gen explained softly.

“I… don’t… get…”

“Right, you’re right, I’m sorry,” she said in a conjoling voice she might otherwise use on a toddler. “You’re in control here, Matteo,” she started. Matteo placed his forehead against the door beside her while he tried to suck in air. His knees wobbled as his body threatened to give out. “You’re in control. The door is secure. You are safe,” Gen repeated like a mantra. Her hand reached out and flattened against his chest. She tried a new tactic. “I’m here,” she said. Matteo’s lungs inflated for the first time. Her heart skittered beneath his palm. “I’m safe,” she added. Another gulp of air. “I’m not leaving you.” Matteo’s flattened fingers constricted into her t–shirt, grasping it desperately. “You’re in control,” she repeated.

“You can’t… leave me… like that,” he whispered between breaths.

“I won’t,” she assured him.

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Chapter Ninety–Four

He nodded quickly three times and moved his forehead to her shoulder before raking in another deep breath. They stayed like that for several minutes as their heart rates synched and slowed. Her fingers wove through his hair, slick with sweat.

“How often does this happen?” she asked after a few more minutes.

“The first one was February fifth when I found out about my mom,” he whispered into her shoulder. “The second was February sixth when they told me about Tony.” He took another moment and swallowed hard. “The last was on February fifteenth.”

Gen’s hand stilled in his hair. Het hand tightened, holding him close. “What if I don’t like being your weakness, Matteo? What if I don’t like making you feel this way?”

“I don’t care. The choice was taken away before we even met. You stole my heart with a picture, Genevieve. You were mine from that moment.”

Beneath his palm Gen’s heart started to hammer away again in her chest. “Picture? What picture?”

Fuck.