Chapter One Hundred And Ninety six
Mateo’s POV
The smooth, rhythmic hum of the private jet’s engines filled the luxurious cabin, a stark contrast to the chaotic thoughts racing through my mind. Outside the window, the bright, golden Italian sunshine of Milan was rapidly fading away, replaced by the heavy, dark gray blankets of clouds that always signaled our return to the United Kingdom. We were flying back to Manchester. Back to the rain. Back to the reality we had both run from, and back to the woman who had tried to systematically dismantle our entire existence with a few pieces of glossy photographic paper.
I leaned my head against the soft leather of the window seat, staring out into the empty gray fog. My body still felt warm, thoroughly marked, and pleasantly exhausted from the
