I thought that by the time I woke up, I would feel fine. Sadly, I am still upset about him missing our dinner date. I know he is a busy man, but for him to walk in like he had absolutely no care in the world gnaws at my insides.
I roll over in bed, feeling dejected. I want to waste the day in bed, but I know that’s not an option. I can’t let this man have so much effect on me.
I drag myself out of bed, feeling sluggish and drained despite having slept for over ten hours. As I make my way to the bathroom, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and wince. My eyes are puffy and bloodshot from crying last night, my hair a tangled mess. I look as wrecked as I feel.
Shaking off the thought, I step into the shower, letting the hot spray wash away the dried tears and lingering disappointment. But no matter how much I scrub, I can’t wash away the emotions twisting inside me—anger, hurt, loneliness.
Part of me wants to confront Matteo and demand answers, to make him see how his actions affect me. But another part of me is terrified of being vulnerable, of giving him even more power to hurt me.
As I step out of the shower and wrap myself in a fluffy towel, I smell the bacon coming from under my door. Emily is here.
After I change, I make my way downstairs and into the kitchen. I find her busy behind the stove, making an assortment of things for me to choose from. Normally, I would be salivating at the thought of food, but for some reason, my stomach knots and a wave of nausea hits me.
Emily spots me and gives a sympathetic smile. “Good morning, Maria. How are you feeling today?”
I force a tight smile in return. “I’m fine, thank you.” The lie falls easily from my lips.
She eyes me skeptically but doesn’t push. “I’ve made some breakfast if you’re hungry.”
The smell of bacon and eggs turns my stomach. “Thank you, Emily, but I’m not very hungry this morning.”
Emily frowns, concern etching her features. “Are you feeling all right? You look a bit pale.”
I wave off her concern. “I’m fine, just tired. I think I’ll just have some tea, please.”
As Emily makes tea, I sink onto a stool at the kitchen island. My head is foggy, my body aching—like I’m coming down with something. Is this situation really taking such a toll on my body like this?
“Here you go,” Emily says, placing a steaming mug in front of me. “Some ginger tea to settle your stomach.”
I wrap my hands around the warm mug, inhaling the spicy aroma. “Thank you.”
Emily leans against the counter, studying me. “Mr. Davacalli called earlier. He said he won’t be home until late tonight.”
I nod, unsurprised. Of course he wouldn’t be home. Why would I expect anything different at this point?
“Did he say why?” I ask, trying to keep my voice neutral.
Emily hesitates. “There was some kind of incident at one of the clubs last night. He’s dealing with the fallout.”
My brow furrows. “Incident? What happened?”
“I’m not entirely sure of the details,” Emily says carefully. “But from what I gathered, there was a shooting. Some people were hurt.”
My stomach drops. A shooting? No wonder he didn’t come home. Still, a small selfish part of me wishes he had at least called to let me know. And none of that negates the fact that he said this isn’t a real marriage.
“I see,” I say quietly, sipping my tea. The ginger does help settle my queasy stomach a bit.
Emily watches me with sympathy. “The dinner didn’t go as planned, did it?”
I shake my head. The tears prick my eyes and I hate myself for being so emotional. “I just don’t understand him. I understand that we are arranged and there is no reason for us to form a connection. We are bonded for life, until death, that is what we vowed. And to make matters worse, he was my first.”
Emily’s eyes widen slightly at my admission. She pulls out the chair next to me and sits down, reaching out to gently squeeze my hand.
“Oh, Maria, I’m so sorry. That must make this situation even more difficult.” Her voice is soft, filled with compassion.
I nod, blinking back tears. “I just… I don’t know what I expected. But I thought maybe after we…” I trail off, unable to say the words. “I thought things might change between us. That he might see me differently.”
Emily exhales. “Matteo is… complicated. He’s been through a lot, and he doesn’t let people in easily. But that doesn’t excuse his behavior.”
I catch how she calls him by his first name but I think nothing of it.
“I know he loved his first wife deeply,” I say quietly. “I’m not trying to replace her. I just want…” I struggle to find the words. “I just want to matter. To be seen as desirable in his eyes.”
It’s stupid, but I can’t help wanting him. When he touches me, it’s electric. Like a storm brewing beneath my skin, waiting to strike. An out-of-this-world kind of feeling.
Emily leans back, tapping her nails against the countertop like she’s thinking. Then, a slow smile spreads across her face.
“Okay,” she says. “Do you trust me?”
I frown. “Yes? Why?”
She grins. “We’re going shopping.”
I barely get a word out before she’s already pulling me to my feet.
“We’ll get you some sexy lingerie, and then I’m teaching you Seduction 101. If you want something, you take it.”
I blink. “And by ‘something,’ you mean Matteo?”
She winks. “Exactly.”
This is a bad idea. A really, really bad idea.
But at this point, what do I have to lose?
I can’t believe I let Emily talk me into this.
I stare at my reflection in the mirror, my breath catching at the sight. The red lingerie clings to my body, leaving little to the imagination. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d do this, but here I am—ready to seduce my own husband into wanting me.
I shake my head. Matteo is the only man who has ever touched me like that, the only one to kiss me with such force that it feels more like a branding. I crave him in a way that defies reason, making me reckless.
“He’s going to lose his mind when he sees you,” Emily says, stepping into view behind me with a knowing smile.
Heat creeps up my neck. “You think so? I just feel…”
“It doesn’t matter what you feel right now,” she interrupts. “You want your man? Then go and get him. Sometimes, a woman has to play the game to win.”
I nod, but the doubt lingers. “But what if he rejects me? Like he did at dinner?”
Emily scoffs, disappearing into my closet. “If that man turns you down looking like this, then he’s blind. Just be bold, Maria. Tell him what you want. You don’t have to fall in love tonight, but you can at least get an orgasm or two along the way.”
I let out a breathy laugh, but my nerves refuse to settle.
Emily returns, tea in hand. She sets it down on the vanity, stirring it absentmindedly before meeting my gaze in the mirror.
“You have the kind of beauty that could launch a thousand ships,” she murmurs. “The kind of woman men go to war for. Own your power. You wear his ring. You carry his name. If you want his heart, fight for it.”
Something shifts inside me. A slow-burning confidence I didn’t know I had.
“Okay,” I say, straightening my shoulders. “I can do this.”
Emily grins. “That’s the spirit.” She lifts the tea. “This will calm your nerves. Or I can make you a dirty martini.”
I arch a brow. “Both?”
We laugh together.
I didn’t have many friends growing up, but Emily feels like the first real one. And for that, I’m grateful.
The evening slips into the night as I sit on the couch in the sunken lounge. I watch the hours tick by until the clock finally strikes 11:00. It only turns to 11:05 when I hear him come in. His heavy footsteps hit against the marble floor, and I look back and see him.
My breath catches in my throat. He is walking sex on legs, and it’s criminal that one man should look this good. The room immediately becomes supercharged.
We haven’t had a conversation since last night. The last thing I told him was that this was not a real marriage. And I walked up the stairs. Now here I am in a silk robe with red lingerie underneath.
Christ.
“You’re up.” His husky voice fills the room. “I thought you would be asleep by now.”
I gulp and stand from my seat. I place the empty martini glass down and turn slowly so I’m facing him. My robe is closed, concealing the red underneath.
My heart pounds heavy in my chest.
“I was waiting for you.” My voice comes out rough. Laced with passion and lust all over it.
Matteo’s eyes roam over my body, lingering on the silk robe that barely covers my thighs. His gaze darkens as it travels back up to meet mine.
“You were waiting for me?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly. There is something dark and enticing in his tone. He takes a step closer, his presence filling the room. “And why is that, Maria?”
I swallow hard, gathering my courage. “I wanted to see you. I don’t like how we left things last night. It was… rough. I wasn’t aware what happened to your men.”
He blinks but says nothing.
I take a deep breath and shake whatever fears I have. “I forget that this is the world I live in now. Every time you walk out that door, there is a chance you may not come back. This life you live is filled with blood and gore. You see darkness every day. You have become accustomed to it. The closest I have gotten to it was seeing my dead brother in a casket.”
I play with the strands of my silk robe. “I am sorry for not being considerate last night. But I do feel like we need to talk, so I stayed up to see you for this specific purpose.”
Another step closer. He’s only a few feet away now, close enough that I can smell his cologne.
“See me for what purpose?” His eyes are intense, burning into mine.
My heart is racing. It’s now or never. With trembling fingers, I reach for the tie of my robe.
“For this,” I breathe, letting the silk fall open to reveal the red lace underneath.
Matteo stills, his gaze dragging over my exposed body. The air between us crackles with electricity. For a long moment, he says nothing—just drinks me in with a heated gaze that makes my skin tingle.
But the tension in his jaw gives him away. And then, just like that, the heat in his gaze turns to something else. He looks at me like I’ve done something unforgivable—like my existence alone is an offense.
His voice, when it comes, is a low, controlled snarl. “Maria… what the hell are you doing?”
I gather my courage and step closer to him. “I… I can’t stop thinking about the other night.” My voice is softer now, my breath shaky. Heat floods my cheeks, betraying me.
His eyes drag over the red lingerie I chose—for him—and I don’t miss the flicker of something there. Heat. Want. Quick as a struck match. But just as fast, it’s gone, swallowed whole by something colder.
“Why the fuck are you wearing this? These cheap little slut clothes?”
The words slam into me, each one a deliberate wound, meant to cut, to humiliate.
He steps forward, his body rigid with control, his hands flexing at his sides like he wants to grab me just as much as he wants to push me away. His next words drip with disdain, with barely leashed frustration.
“If I wanted a whore, I could get one.”
The air between us is a live wire, buzzing with everything he refuses to say. Because I see it—I see it. The way his chest rises a little too fast. The way his fingers twitch, like he’s dying to touch me.
And yet, he doesn’t.
He won’t.
Because Matteo is a man of control. Of duty. Of chains he locked around himself a long time ago. And I—no matter how much I try—will never be the one he gives in to.
I force myself to gather what little courage I have left. Because if I don’t say this now, I never will.
“You know what? Fine.” My breath is sharp, like I’m holding back more than just words. “I thought maybe—just once—you’d remember what you have. What’s right in front of you. But no.”
I take a step closer, daring him to look away. “If all you see is a slut, then that’s your problem—not mine. I wore this for you. I wanted you to want me. I wanted to remind you that I’m still the woman who can set you on fire with a single look. And maybe—just maybe—you’d see me as something more than duty. More than some contract you’re bound to.”
My voice falters for half a second, but I catch it, turning it into a bitter smile. “But you’d rather spit insults than touch me, wouldn’t you? Because if you touched me, if you gave in for even a second, you’d have to admit you still want me.”
I take a step back, but the air between us hums like a live wire, stretched tight with everything we won’t say. “Congratulations,” I say softly, my voice like a slap wrapped in silk. “Message received. I won’t make that mistake again.”
“You think dressing like this gives you power over me?” His voice is low, almost a growl, but even he can hear the rough edge beneath it—desire fighting to break free. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing? Trying to seduce me like that fixes anything? You could strip naked right now, and it wouldn’t change what we are.”
He steps toward me, so close that my scent hits him like a punch. He leans in, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear, his breath hot and deliberate. His voice drops to a whisper, slow and taunting—a sinful mix of heat and venom.
“You want me to fuck you against this wall, is that it?” His words are a ghost against my skin, each syllable sinking into me, dangerous and intoxicating. “To prove you still matter?”
A shiver runs through me, my breath catching in my throat, but before I can react, he pulls back.
His face lingers inches from mine, his breath fanning against my lips, his presence swallowing up every inch of space between us. His eyes are locked on to mine, dark and burning, filled with the kind of hunger that could ruin us both.
He can see my breath catch, my pupils blow wide, and it’s so fucking tempting—but instead, he steps further back. Because if he touches me, even once, he’s done for.
His jaw clenches, his hands curling into fists at his sides—like he’s physically restraining himself. His voice is lower now, rougher, almost strained. “You don’t know what you’re playing with, Maria.”
I swallow hard, refusing to break eye contact. “Oh, I know exactly what I’m playing with.” My voice comes out softer than I intend, a breathy challenge, but the way his eyes flash tells me he heard every ounce of meaning behind it.
The air between us is stifling, charged, suffocating in the best and worst ways. I can feel the heat of his body, the tension rolling off him in waves, the way his gaze drops—just for a second—to my lips before snapping back up.
He’s struggling. Fighting himself.
And I want him to lose.
I tilt my chin up, just slightly, daring him to close the distance. “You want me, Matteo.” I don’t whisper it. I state it. Like a fact. Like the undeniable truth we both know. “So stop pretending you don’t.”
His exhale is sharp, his nostrils flaring as his control wavers for a split second. His fingers twitch—like he might grab me, might give in—but then he moves away.
His eyes are like steel now, his walls snapping back into place, forcing himself into that cold, emotionless mask I hate.
“Too bad,” he mutters, “I’m not that easy.”
The wave of disappointment nearly rocks me.
“Go to bed, Maria.” His voice is hoarse, rough, but there’s no mistaking the finality in it. “Before I forget myself.”
Matteo’s jaw tightens, his fists clenching like he’s holding onto something just out of reach. His eyes—those dark, reckless eyes—burn into mine, but he keeps himself locked behind the bars he’s spent years building.
And then, like a blade sliding between my ribs, his voice cuts through the silence.
“One woman already claimed my heart. There’s nothing left for you.”
