With a sinking heart, Matteo dialed Emline’s phone number. Unlike Alia’s, it went through, and she picked up the call after only a few rings.
"Hi, Matteo!" Emline’s girlish voice radiated pure joy as if she had been waiting for him to call. "What’s up? Are you having fun?"
"Emline, give Andrea’s number," Matteo demanded. He had no mood to indulge in small talk, or to play whatever ga Emline was orchestrating.
"Why?" Emline asked, confused. "Can’t you just talk to him personally? Aren’t you with him now? Besides, you should hurry and co back, the snow looks like it’s coming down thick. I’m already inside my room. Maybe you can join ―"
Matteo gritted his teeth. Every second he spent talking to her was a second wasted. "Just give his number! Alia is uncontactable!"
"Oh, did you make her angry, Matteo?" Emline said, sounding unbothered. She let out a dismissive clucking sound.
"You should really leash that temper of yours. You know, not everyone is like . I’m used to your mood swings and bad attitude, but Alia wouldn’t be. According to Kelsie, Caleb was nothing less than loving and sweet to her for all three years of their marriage."
"Cut the crap and give Andrea’s number," Matteo repeated angrily, feeling his mood plumt faster than a skydiver with a faulty parachute. He did not like to be compared to Caleb Walton, and for Emline to claim that Caleb treated her better than Matteo did was simply aggravating.
Emline let out another sigh and then rattled off a string of numbers reluctantly. "Matteo, you really should relax. Maybe we can―"
Matteo hung up, not wanting to listen further. He dialed the number Emline gave, only to be t with no answer.
Matteo growled. He was this close to flinging his phone on the ground. Emline better not have given him the wrong number on purpose. Just as he was about to storm over to Emline’s room to demand the truth, he spotted a familiar figure strolling through the resort doors like he didn’t have a care in the world.
It was Andrea, and he had the nerve to spot a cheerful grin on his face even though he was alone. Alia was nowhere in sight. With a snarl, Matteo made a beeline for him, his hands gripping the collar of his jacket.
"Ahh!" Andrea cried out in shock at being manhandled without warning. His eyes registered Matteo’s murderous glare, and he quickly replied, trying to pry Matteo’s hands away from his collar. "Mr. Montgory, what is the aning of this? There’s no need to resort to violence!"
"Where is my wife?" Matteo’s hands tightened, and the muscles in his arms flexed threateningly. "Where is Alia, you bastard?"
Depending on Andrea’s answer, he might have blood on his hands. Andrea’s throat bobbed, and his pupils widened with fear when he saw that Matteo would not be dissuaded.
Matteo’s actions were causing a crowd of curious onlookers to gather around them. Thanks to the earlier snow warning alert, there was a consistent stream of tourists making their way back to safety.
If Andrea did not handle this well, he could kiss his career goodbye.
"Why are you asking ? Isn’t she your wife?" Andrea retorted, and his eyes bulged out as Matteo’s grip turned hostile. His voice ca out in a wheeze at the additional pressure around his throat.
"I an― after she got dical attention, she wanted to try out the tougher slopes! I tried to dissuade her, but she wanted to prove you wrong! So she sent away. I left her at one of the dic tents."
Matteo snarled and tossed Andrea on the floor, causing his body to land with a dull thud, his limbs sprawled all over the marble tiles in an ungraceful heap. Andrea let out a groan of pain, hoping that was the last of it. However, Matteo wasn’t done with his questioning.
"Why were you uncontactable?" Matteo demanded. "And even if she sent you away, how could you in good conscience not accompany her down the advance slopes!"
Andrea blubbered from his spot on the floor, reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone. "Mr. Montgory, I did not receive any calls from you."
Matteo saw red. This incident had Emline’s grubby claws all over it.
"Where is the dic tent?" Matteo growled out.
Andrea stamred. "It’s the one near the advanced slopes."
Matteo let out a hiss of anger. The advanced slopes were the furthest away from the resort, thanks to the high altitude and increased difficulty due to the terrain. He could not― would not believe that Alia was fool-hardy enough to attempt it, much less insist on attempting it.
’It must be the fault of this fucking instructor,’ Matteo thought bitterly to himself. He had overly inflated her confidence and made her believe she was a prodigy. And now he was here, safe and warm in the resort while Alia’s whereabouts were unknown.
"If that’s all, I can go now―" Andrea got up, trying to slink away, but Matteo grabbed the back of his neck as though he was an unruly kitten and shook him.
"You’re not leaving until I have a satisfactory answer," he growled out. "Receptionist! Call the dic tent. I need to know if my wife is there."
Andrea’s face paled. anwhile, the young receptionist on duty nodded frantically, his hands curled around the phone. After several tense minutes, the receptionist shook his head.
"Mr. Montgory, according to the staff on duty, Miss Alia never showed up in the tent."
"You bastard!" Matteo’s fist flew, and Andrea’s jaw gave a sickening crack as his blow landed squarely on his cheek. Matteo’s hands were now wrapped around Andrea’s neck, his knuckles turning white.
"You said you left Alia at the dic’s tent. You filthy liar!" He roared, causing Andrea to flinch. His ears were still ringing from the blow, and Matteo’s loud voice was causing nausea.
"I’ll give you one more chance. If you don’t tell the truth, I’ll tear you apart and feed you to the bears. Where is Alia?!"
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