I storm back into the ballroom with my wife in tow. She hisses at me to let her go, but I hold on to her wrist even tighter. I can feel the eyes on us, but I don’t give a shit. They can think what they want.
This is not the debut I would have wanted but the night did not go according to plan. We need to leave before things get ugly and floors are stained with blood.
“Matteo, please stop.” She tries again to pull me to a halt. “People are looking at us.”
“Let them.” We are on our way out anyway. And besides, these low-level thugs need me more than I will ever need them. They all know this; it’s why they play nice in front of me. “We are leaving.”
“Matteo?” Valerio comes to my side, leaving a woman he was chatting up by the bar. He looks between me and my wife and then trains his gaze on me. “What happened?”
“Giacomo is what happened. He’s here, and so is my son—Daniele. Keep an eye on them both; do not engage, and report back to me what you see. I’m taking Maria home. Tell the governor I am sorry, and we will have to reschedule our meeting.”
We break out into the open air, my second still at my side and my wife now silently trailing next to me. We come to a grinding halt, waiting for the valet to bring my car around.
“I will, boss. But before you go…” He steps around me to stand in front of my wife. “I wish we had met under more pleasant circumstances, but I’m Valerio—the man tasked with keeping your husband’s head out of his ass.”
I shoot him a glare, but Maria manages a small smile, quelling some of the tension coursing through my body.
Maria takes his hand in hers. “It’s nice to meet you, Valerio. Hopefully we can sit down and have a nice chat some time?”
The little shit goes the extra mile and takes the back of her hand and kisses it. I clear my throat, uncomfortable with this little exchange. But from the smile on Valerio’s face, I know he is only doing it to get under my skin.
“It would be my pleasure. Maybe we can exchange numbers and—”
“Oh, would you look at that? The car’s here.” Right on cue, it pulls up, and I nudge Maria forward. “You want her number? Sure. I’ll give it to you… never.”
My second lets out a low chuckle after succeeding at getting under my skin. He rolls his eyes and heads back inside.
The valet opens Maria’s door, and I help her inside. The smile has dropped from her lips and she looks pensive. Her eyes move over my face for a few seconds before she opens her mouth to speak, but I cut her off.
“Whatever you have to say, can you save it? I need to put as much space between me and this place as possible.” I manage the words, but thinking of what just happened makes my blood sizzle a little.
“Okay.”
I shut the door and round the car so I can take us home. Giacomo is like a rat; he only lives in the shadows and in the deep underground sewer. If he has resurfaced, it means he is up to something, and I need to find out what it is.
The drive back to the penthouse is silent. We ascend the elevator, not a single word uttered between the two of us. I am still fighting off the last shrivels of anger still lingering in my system.
I am holding it in for her, but had I been on my own, I would have made my way to my range and blown off some steam.
We walk through the door, and I loosen my bow tie and breathe a sigh of relief. Today has been nothing short of a clusterfuck of events.
The heels of our shoes hit against the marble floors, sending the sound to the walls and then back again.
“Who was that man?” She finally fills the silence of the house. “Why does he seem to hate you?”
I ignore her and walk over to the bar, where I find my favorite bottle of whiskey. I pour myself a glass and throw the harsh liquor back. I wince but I appreciate the burn as it sears my throat.
“I have many people who hate me, Maria. That is the name of the game.” I watch her, standing in the middle of the open area looking like a vision in white. So pure. So innocent. “Are you okay? After everything that happened tonight.”
She looks at me with furrowed brows.
“Daniele?” I prompt.
She sighs heavily. “Truthfully?”
“Yes, always.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “Only two months ago, I was thinking about where I wanted to exhibit my next pieces, and now… well, now I am the wife to one of the most dangerous men on the east coast, and the only person I could call friend hates me for some unknown reason.”
He doesn’t hate her. He hates me and for good reason, but I can’t tell her. This is a secret I have carried since the day he was born and one I do not intend to divulge.
The pain in her voice stirs something in me. I push the unknown feeling down, not ready to address such things.
“In the span of a month, I lost my twin brother and married a man who seems all but soulless toward me. Do you know that you haven’t even asked how I am doing through all of this? I had to let go of the only life I knew and could find comfort in. I’m in a strange new world and I… I’m barely treading water. I feel like I’m either seconds away from crying and melting down or breaking something. There is no in-between, and it’s driving me to insanity.”
Her words hang in the air. The weight of them press down onto my chest.
Antonio Faravelli.
There has been blood on my hands for decades, but his blood mars my hands, and I don’t think I will ever be able to come to terms with what happened. This is why she should have married Daniele. My debt would be paid and I wouldn’t have to see her every day in my home.
“I sometimes forget that you are still grieving the loss of your brother. You handle the grief so well that I… I forget.” My words are sincere that they even throw me for a loop. “I know I have said it once before, but I am sorry for your loss.”
Her eyes linger on me. A flicker of something unreadable flashes through them—so fleeting, I almost miss it. She takes a few tentative steps toward me, and I pause. She looks like she is on a mission but there is a hesitance in her actions.
That’s when I see it. The shift in her eyes—raw, unfiltered desire. A silent plea wrapped in fire, a challenge and surrender all at once.
“Maria…”
She swallows hard, her breath uneven, but still, she moves toward me.
“We may never love each other,” she murmurs, her voice thick with something darker than want. “But I can’t stop needing you.” Her lashes lower, her breath uneven. “It’s maddening—the way I burn when you think of her. When I see the ghost of her in your eyes, in your silence, in the way you hold yourself back from me.”
She exhales shakily, fingers curling at her sides. “And it’s unbearable—the way I ache when you touch me.” Her voice drops lower, almost a whisper. “I don’t know what this is, but I don’t want to fight it anymore. I don’t want to be in a battle I’ve already lost to someone who isn’t even here. I want you to want me the same way.”
Her words seal my fate.
Something snaps inside me. A dam breaking, a beast unchained.
She’s standing before me—bare, vulnerable, but not fragile. No, Maria has never been fragile. She is fire and steel, reckless and beautiful, daring me to take what she’s offering. Daring me to make her mine.
She steps closer—so close I can smell the lingering traces of her perfume, the soft mix of vanilla and danger. Her eyes, wide and doe-like, lock onto mine, searching, waiting.
She reaches behind her, fingers trembling slightly, and then—one by one—she lets the straps of her dress slip from her shoulders. The silk glides over her skin, pooling at her feet in a whisper of fabric.
My breath catches.
No lace. No undergarments. Nothing.
She stands before me, bare, utterly unashamed, the flickering light casting golden shadows over every curve of her body. A vision of temptation—pure sin wrapped in delicate, unmarked flesh. I clench my fists at my sides, every ounce of my self-control hanging by a fragile thread.
Her chest rises and falls in uneven breaths, but she doesn’t waver. She doesn’t shy away from my gaze. She wants me to look. She wants me to burn for her.
And God help me, I do.
“Make me yours, Matteo.”
Her voice is quiet, but the steel in it is undeniable. She takes a step forward, her bare skin brushing against my suit, her warmth searing through the fabric. My jaw clenches. My pulse roars.
She has no idea what she’s just unleashed.
“Don’t make me beg for something that is mine by law,” she continues, her nails grazing slightly over the fabric. Her lips part, her breath mingling with mine. “I can see you want to.”
Christ. Can she?
I lift a hand, trailing my fingers over her collarbone, feeling the way her pulse thrums beneath my touch—fast, unsteady. For me. She gasps softly, her breath hitching, and fuck, it’s the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.
“You want me to want you the same way?” My voice is low, rough. Possessive.
I tilt her chin up, forcing her to look at me. Her pupils are blown wide, her lips parted, waiting, wanting.
“You have no idea how much I already do.”
Then I crash my mouth to hers, swallowing her gasp, tasting the fire she’s kept buried for far too long. And in this moment, in the way she melts against me, in the way her nails sink into my skin, I know—
She’s mine.
Tonight, tomorrow, forever.
I rip my lips from hers and lean my forehead against hers. I see her dilated pupils and the way the green in her eyes slowly begins to dissolve.
“This body of yours is mine tonight. I am claiming you—as mine,” I pant against her breaths. “Let me work your body into oblivion.”
She smiles and steps back before she takes my hand in hers and leads the way.
We make our way up the stairs as she leads us to her room. My cock strains against my trousers and it takes everything in me not to slam her against the wall and have my way with her.
We arrive at her door just in time. The hunger in me is getting to a point where I can’t hold back much longer. I shouldn’t have this visceral reaction to her being this close, but I do. She is like a siren calling me into her waters, and I am helpless to resist her.
We walk into the room and, without wasting time, I capture her lips in mine and shut the door.
Maria’s lips are plump and swollen from my kiss, a sight so intoxicating I nearly lose myself all over again.
“My God, you are breathtaking,” I murmur, my voice thick with hunger. My thumb brushes along her jaw, the soft skin warm beneath my touch. “Everything about you is… magnificent.”
She holds my gaze, her dark eyes glistening under the dim light, an unspoken challenge flickering in their depths. A slow smile spreads across her face as she reaches up, her fingers barely grazing my cheek, her touch featherlight but searing.
“You always say the right things,” she whispers, her voice husky.
I capture her wandering hand in mine and press my lips to her palm, lingering there, savoring her scent, her softness. A foreign sensation claws at my chest—gentleness, tenderness, restraint. I don’t recognize this version of myself, but the thought of not touching her, not taking her, is unbearable.
“I only speak the truth,” I murmur.
Maria is living artwork—every inch of her designed to undo me.
Her breath catches, and her chest rises, pushing against me, teasing me with the promise of more. I shouldn’t lean into this, shouldn’t lean into her, but I do. I always do.
“I’m going to claim you, Maria,” I tell her, cupping the side of her face, my thumb brushing her lower lip. “I will try to be gentle, but that is not the man I am. I want to ruin every man who came before me. I want to be the only one you think about.”
Her eyes widen slightly, but there’s no fear—only desire, dark and deep, burning as fiercely as my own. She tilts her head, her lips brushing the pulse at my wrist before she whispers, “Then don’t be gentle.”
My control snaps.
A growl rumbles from my chest as I grab her, lifting her effortlessly. Her legs wrap around my waist, her back hitting the wall hard enough to rattle the frame beside us, but she only gasps, her fingers tightening in my hair. She wants this. She needs this.
“Matteo,” she breathes my name, a sound so sweet, so full of hunger, that I nearly lose myself then and there.
I take her mouth in a searing kiss, my hands mapping the curves of her body, tracing the swell of her breasts, the smoothness of her thighs.
Needing more, needing all of her, I lift her into my arms and carry her to the bed, dropping her onto the mattress with a controlled roughness. She bounces slightly, her dark hair splayed across the pillow like a masterpiece.
I kneel between her legs, my hands gliding down her inner thighs. “You knew exactly what you were doing to me tonight, didn’t you?” I murmur, my lips tracing the path my hands made.
She shivers, her fingers grasping the sheets. “I hoped.”
“Clever girl.” My mouth finds her breast, sucking, biting, leaving my mark as my hand slides between her thighs. When my fingers finally touch her, she gasps, arching against me. She’s soaked, ready, desperate.
I smirk against her skin. “You’re already so wet for me.”
“Matteo, please…” she whimpers, grinding against my palm.
I press a single finger inside her, slow, teasing, savoring the way her body clenches around me. Her head falls back, a moan escaping her lips. I add another finger, curling them just so, watching her fall apart in my hands.
“You like that?” I whisper into her ear, my fingers working in slow, deliberate strokes.
“Y-yes,” she gasps, her body trembling beneath me. “More.”
I slide down, spreading her thighs wider as I replace my fingers with my mouth. The moment my tongue flicks against her, she cries out, her hands tangling in my hair, pulling me closer. Her body bucks, but I grip her hips, holding her in place as I feast on her.
“Matteo—” Her voice is a breathless plea. “I can’t—”
“You will,” I murmur against her. “You’re mine, Maria. Come for me.”
A scream tears from her throat as she shatters, her body convulsing, her nails digging into my scalp. I don’t let up, drawing every last tremor from her until she’s panting, spent.
When I rise above her, she’s a vision—flushed, glowing, her lips parted in breathless exhaustion. I palm my belt, unbuckling it with one hand, my gaze never leaving hers.
She watches, transfixed, as I free myself. Her eyes widen slightly, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. “My God…”
I smirk, gripping my cock, stroking it slowly. “Too much for you, cara?”
She grins, sitting up on her elbows, mischief in her eyes. “I didn’t say that.”
Her hand wraps around me, soft and warm, moving with an innocent curiosity that nearly undoes me. I groan, my grip tightening in her hair as she strokes me, learning what makes me weak.
“Enough,” I growl, pushing her back down onto the bed. “I need to be inside you.”
Her legs spread wider in invitation. I hover over her, teasing her entrance with the tip of my cock. But then I pause, my forehead resting against hers. “Tell me you want this, Maria. Tell me you need me.”
Her fingers slide up my arms, her nails raking lightly down my back. “I’ve never wanted anything more in my life, Matteo. Now, take me.”
With a single thrust, I bury myself inside her, groaning at the way her body clenches around me, so tight, so perfect. Her breath hitches, her nails digging deeper. “Oh, Matteo—”
I grit my teeth, fighting for control, letting her adjust. “Tell me when.”
Her hips roll against mine. “Now.”
I move, slow at first, deep and deliberate, savoring every inch of her. But it’s not enough. Not for either of us. When her nails rake down my back, my restraint snaps. I grip her hips and thrust harder, driving into her with the force of every unspoken desire.
“Harder,” she begs. “Don’t hold back.”
I obey, pounding into her until the bed shakes beneath us, the sound of our bodies colliding filling the room. Her moans grow frantic, her thighs tightening around me. She’s close—so am I.
“Come for me, Maria,” I growl, my fingers finding her clit. “Let go.”
She shatters with a scream, her body writhing, her walls clenching around me so tightly I follow, groaning her name as I spill deep inside her.
I collapse beside her, pulling her into my chest, her body still trembling.
“Are you all right?” I ask, brushing a strand of hair from her face with unexpected tenderness.
She smiles. “I’m perfect.”
“I wasn’t too rough?” The question feels foreign on my tongue. Since when do I care about such things? Since when do I ask instead of take?
She laughs softly, the sound vibrating against my chest. “You were exactly what I needed.” Her fingers tracing lazy patterns on my skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “Besides, I believe I was the one who told you not to be gentle.”
I capture her wandering hand, bringing it to my lips. “So you did.”
The moonlight casts shadows across her face, highlighting the curve of her cheek, the fullness of her lips. I find myself memorizing these details, storing them away like precious artifacts. This isn’t like me. I don’t linger. I don’t savor. I take what I want and move on.
“Sleep.” I bury my nose into her hair. “Tomorrow is another day.”
She doesn’t reply. Her eyes are already closed and her chest rises and falls slowly. I try to close my eyes but sleep never finds me. Instead I stay awake with my stare focused ahead and my wife in my arms.
It’s the calm after the storm. Maria lays on my chest, her hair sprawled out on my skin and her leg and arm draped over me. Her naked body molds into mine perfectly, like she is made for me.
I don’t even want to entertain the thought of her being my perfect fit. I need to keep everything as surface-level as possible.
I look down at my wife. Her face is at ease and she sleeps peacefully in my arms. I dare to brush the stray strands that kiss her cheeks and tuck them behind her ear. She only stirs a little and my heart lurches in my chest when she snuggles into me.
I don’t like the way my heart melts like ice when I am near her. It’s bad enough I need to mask it all, but here, in the thick of the silence with only my thoughts as company, I fear that the truth is too hard for me to face.
This is just sex. It can only be just sex. But it doesn’t go beyond that. It can’t.
I cannot allow myself to get to close, not again. She is an obligation that I have to fulfil and one that I cannot afford to fumble. This is nothing more than a part of the business agreement.
I don’t know if I am trying to convince myself into believing it.
I will do well to remember my place in all of this. And most of all, I will remember—Maria will never be mine. Not truly. No matter how much I fucking wish she was.
