The morning light filters through the curtains, casting a golden glow over the bedroom. But the warmth of it does nothing to chase away the heaviness in my chest.
I feel the absence of his warmth before I even open my eyes. Normally, his arm would be draped over me, pulling me into him. Slowly, I blink my eyes open, and when I do, I find him sitting at the edge of the bed, his back to me, his posture tense.
His bare shoulders rise and fall with a slow, measured breath, but I can feel the storm beneath his calm exterior.
Last night’s conversation lingers between us. I still can’t believe it. There were a million and one things that I was expecting to come out of his mouth, but not once did I think it would be that. But the longer I sit with the information, the more I see the connections.
I have only seen this man, Giacomo, once, and from what I remember, he has the same eyes as Daniele. They carry the same features, and it is almost uncanny how similar they are.
“Matteo.” I sit up and stare at his back. “Matteo, come back to bed.”
He looks over his shoulder at me, and then he turns back to the window. He places his elbows on his knees and sighs. “Go back to sleep, amore. It’s early.”
“I will… with you back in this bed with me.”
He doesn’t say anything. I can tell that his shoulders are weighed down by the weight reality carries. I hate seeing him like this. So lost, so vulnerable… so human. This man moves like he is invincible, but for the first time, I see him falter.
The sheets pool around my waist as I reach out and press a hand against his back. His muscles tense for a split second before he exhales, relaxing just slightly beneath my touch.
“You didn’t sleep,” I murmur. It’s not a question. I felt him stirring the entire night.
Matteo turns his head slightly, but not enough for me to see his face. “I got enough sleep to make it through the day.”
I hesitate, then run my fingers lightly along his spine. “Talk to me.”
A bitter laugh escapes his lips, but it lacks humor. “You want me to tell you that everything will be fine?” He finally turns to look at me, his dark eyes filled with something unreadable. “Because I won’t lie to you, amore mio. This war? It’s going to be brutal, and there is a chance that we won’t make it out the other side.”
A shiver runs down my spine.
I swallow, pushing past the unease curling in my stomach. “Whatever’s coming—I want to face it with you. I want to help. I know that I can’t do much, but I want to be able to ease this burden you have chosen to carry on your own.”
Matteo’s expression shifts, something dangerous flashing in his gaze. “All you need to do is stay alive.”
I sit up straighter. “You don’t get to shut me out of this war. Not when it’s coming for both of us.”
His jaw tightens. “Maria—”
“No,” I cut him off. “I’m done being kept in the dark. I’m done being the woman who sits at home, waiting to see if her husband will come back in one piece.” I meet his gaze, unwavering. “Giacomo is coming after me. He wants to end my life, and that makes me a part of this. And as a part of this, it means I get to play a role in how we both save my life.”
Matteo watches me carefully, his silence heavy.
Then, finally, he exhales, dragging a hand through his hair. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, Maria.”
“I don’t care.”
His dark eyes burn into mine, filled with something raw, something lethal.
“If I let you get too close, you could die. And if that happens—everything I’m fighting for would mean nothing.”
“And if you go into this alone, you will die. So if you’re stepping into the line of fire—I’m stepping with you.”
“I can’t lose you, Maria.”
“Then don’t make me watch you walk into hell without me. Because losing you would destroy me just the same.”
Matteo studies me for a long moment, his sharp eyes scanning my face as if searching for hesitation, for fear. But he won’t find either. I have already made up my mind. I know what I want, and I know who I want.
Finally, he exhales, running a hand down his face before he leans back against the headboard. His movements are slow, deliberate, and controlled, except for his hands. His fingers twitch slightly, like they want to curl into fists, but he’s forcing himself to stay composed.
“There are ways and laws of how war is fought in this world. Giacomo knows that he can’t just outright come and start a war with me. There needs to be grounds for it, or else the rest of the families will see him as a radical and look to try and end him.”
This is all news to me.
“What he has done is grounds for me to retaliate. He came after you, and he has been deep within my territory,” he says, his voice quieter now but no less dangerous. “The other families are waiting to see how it all unfolds. Some will side with us—the ones who know that Giacomo is a psychotic bastard. Some won’t—those who want to see my empire crumble to the ground.”
“And what happens if they don’t choose a side and allow Giacomo to keep running a rampage?” I ask.
Matteo’s jaw tightens. “Then the city will burn, and it could all be reduced to nothing but ash.”
A cold chill runs through me, but I refuse to let it show. “And Daniele?”
Matteo lets out a low breath, shaking his head. “I have no idea where my son’s head is. I have tried to speak with him but he doesn’t want to speak with me. Giacomo has corrupted him and made him feel like he can’t trust me—like he doesn’t know me.”
Even with Daniele having sided with his enemy, Matteo still speaks of him as his own. I can see the pain swimming in his eyes. I can hear the anguish laced in his words.
There is blood on the Davacalli name—even Faravelli blood. Could this be what he meant when he saw me that day? Is this what he had been trying to hint at all this time?
I hesitate, watching the way his expression hardens when he says it. “He will come to his senses eventually.”
His dark gaze snaps to mine. “I don’t know, amore. I know my son pretty well, and I feel as though he has made up his mind when it comes to this. I am the bad guy in this story. I don’t know how much Giacomo told him of what he did to his mother, but I’m sure it wasn’t the full truth.” His voice lowers, dark and unforgiving.
I swallow, gripping the sheets beneath my fingers. “So you should tell him. As much as I think he feels betrayed and hurt to learn that you aren’t his true blood, he should learn the kind of man you are. The man who took in a woman who was scared out of her mind and chose to raise a child who did not share an ounce of his DNA.”
I don’t know if my words ease anything within him. He remains rigid and stiff as a board.
Matteo turns so that the majority of his body is facing me. He cups the side of my face, and the pad of his thumb strokes my cheek. His touch leaves little hot trails of tingles up and down my cheek. I lean into his touch, and when I turn, I kiss the inside of his palm tenderly.
A weighted silence stretches between us.
I place my hand on top of his and grip his large one tighter. “You won’t lose me, Matteo. I know you are scared, and you feel a little out of your depth. But you won’t lose me, okay? We have come way too far to let things like this break us apart.”
Matteo watches me. The shine in his eyes penetrates right through me, and I feel warmth spread throughout my body.
“You won’t lose me,” I reassure him again, wanting him to know that I am not going anywhere. I am here with him. I will move through the storm with him. “We will get through this. If war is where we have to be, then war we shall have.”
The air sits softly with my confession that lingers in the air. I mean every single word that I utter.
“You,” he murmurs, his voice rough, “are the one thing Giacomo won’t take from me. I won’t just kill for you, Maria. I’d suffer, crawl through fire, lose everything—die a thousand deaths—if it meant keeping you breathing.”
“I’m not willing to lose you. We get out of this together, or not at all. I want to hold your hand at the end of it all.” I pull his hand from my cheek and thread our fingers together. I kiss each one of his knuckles, and then I tuck our joined hands under my chin.
A slow, steady beat of silence passes between us.
It’s not a shock that I am falling in love with this man. He has captured my heart and pulled me into his web, and now I can’t get free. Not that I want to be freed.
I lean forward and press my lips to his. I moan into his mouth, and my muscles relax. Our tongues move in perfect sync. The familiar dance that only our tongues could understand continues. It’s this ebb and flow of emotion that passes through our bodies and settles deep into the marrow of our bones.
Every time we collide, it’s like this cosmic out-of-this-world experience.
When we break apart, I am left breathless. My chest heaves up and down as I try to bring more air into my lungs. I look up at him through my eyelashes and catch his heated stare.
“Shower?”
Blood rushes down to my core, and I smile, already knowing where this is heading. “Shower.”
He gets up from the bed and pulls me toward the shower so we can get ready for this new day.
The water pours over our bodies, hot and unrelenting, but it’s nothing compared to the heat between us. Our mouths collide like we’re starved—tongues tangling, teeth grazing, lips swollen from the force of it. It’s messy and intense, but it’s ours. This is how we come together: fierce, raw, no holding back.
Every time he kisses me like this, it feels like the first time—and the last. Urgent. Desperate. Fated. It’s not just lust, it’s gravity. Matteo isn’t just touching my body—he’s claiming every inch of it.
The steam swirls thick around us, fogging the mirrors, clinging to our skin. It feels like we’re suspended in another world. A private one, where nothing exists outside this shower but his breath against mine and the need spiraling through me like wildfire.
When he pulls back, I’m panting. My lips are tingling. His eyes are locked on mine, sharp and dark, but there’s something softer buried beneath the heat—something that makes my knees weak.
“I’m starving,” he murmurs, voice low and teasing. “Think I’ll start with breakfast.”
My brows furrow, breath hitching, but then—he sinks to his knees.
The cool tile presses against my back as he guides me gently, reverently, and something tightens in my chest. I’m already trembling, and he hasn’t even touched me yet. He looks up at me like he’s about to worship, not devour.
My thighs part slowly, deliberately. A silent offering.
“Tell me what you want, Maria,” he says, voice like velvet dragging over steel.
I swallow. His voice makes my legs shake, my heart’s racing, but it’s not fear—it’s anticipation. “Your mouth.”
“Where?”
He kisses the inside of my thigh, soft and slow, like he has all the time in the world. Each kiss sends a pulse of heat straight between my legs, the ache building with every breath.
He trails higher, closer—until his lips hover just above my clit, teasing, cruel, deliberate.
“On my pussy,” I whisper, already trembling, my voice cracking under the weight of need. “Please, Matteo.”
“Good girl,” he breathes. His hands grip my hips, strong and grounding. “Leg up.”
He lifts my leg over his shoulder with ease, his eyes never leaving mine. Then his mouth finally covers my clit—and I shatter.
A sharp cry escapes me as he sucks hard, his tongue drawing lazy, controlled circles. He’s not rushing. He’s savoring. Drawing it out like he knows how close I already am.
My back arches off the wall. My hands find his hair, fingers tightening, anchoring me.
He groans into me, the vibration sending a fresh wave of heat spiraling through my core.
“You taste like sin,” he growls into me. “The sweetest fucking sin.”
I whimper as his tongue slides down to lap at my folds, slow and methodical. He works me like he’s crafting a masterpiece. His beard is rough against my inner thighs, every graze of stubble adding another jolt of pleasure.
“You’re so wet already,” he murmurs. “All this for me?”
“Yes,” I gasp. “Only you.”
A finger slides inside me, then another. He pumps slow and deep, curling his fingers just enough to make my knees buckle.
“Matteo, I—I can’t—”
He rips his mouth away, licking his lips like he’s drunk on me. “Yes, you can,” he growls.
“Don’t run from it,” he says, dragging his tongue back up to flick over my clit. “Take it, Maria. Let go.”
His fingers keep moving, his mouth never stops, and I’m unraveling. My breath comes in sharp bursts. I want to cry and scream and beg, all at once.
“Matteo—fuck—don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
He groans again, tongue working faster now, fingers pressing deep. My orgasm builds slowly, torturously, a wave that keeps climbing.
Then—
He sucks hard, just once, and the world explodes.
My body convulses. My head thumps against the tile. I cry out his name like it’s the only word I’ve ever known. My legs shake around his shoulders, but he holds me through it—steady, relentless, insatiable.
Even after I come, he doesn’t stop right away. He licks softly now, like he’s easing me back to earth, and I can’t tell if I want to push him away or beg for more.
When he finally pulls back, I can barely breathe. My body feels boneless. My skin is flushed and tingling.
He rises slowly, watching me like he’s proud of what he’s just done—and maybe a little smug.
“You’re fucking divine,” he murmurs, voice rough with arousal. His cock presses hard against my thigh, thick and aching. “Turn around.”
I do, limbs shaking, and press my hands against the fogged-up glass. My breath leaves soft marks on the surface as I wait for him.
Then his body molds to mine, chest against my back, cock sliding through my folds.
“You want me?” he asks, dragging the head of his dick along my slit.
“Yes,” I whisper. “God, yes.”
“Then beg.”
“Matteo, please. I need you inside me—I need all of you.”
A rough growl escapes his throat. Then he slams into me.
I cry out, the stretch shocking and delicious. He doesn’t wait—his thrusts are slow but deep, grinding, like he wants to carve himself into me inch by inch.
“You were made for me,” he grits out, voice thick with need. “No one else could ever fuck you like this. Tell me who this belongs to. Say it,” he growls.
“You,” I gasp. “It’s yours—it’s always been yours.”
His hand slides around to rub my clit again—small, punishing circles that make me see stars.
My second orgasm creeps up slower this time, but it’s deeper, heavier. I can feel it in my spine, in my toes, in the way my walls clench around him like I’ll never let him go.
“Come on, baby,” he groans. “Show me how much you need me. Fuck me back,” he pants. “I want to feel you take me. I want to feel you break.”
I thrust into him, meeting every stroke, every slap of skin. “Harder,” I cry. “Matteo, give me all of it!”
The pressure builds again. I’m right there, clenching around him, needing the release like air.
“Come for me,” he hisses. “Come all over my cock, baby.”
I break.
This one doesn’t hit—it erupts. It crashes through me like a second wave, even harder than the first. I can’t breathe—I don’t want to. I want to scream his name—my legs trembling, my body falling over the edge again. But I don’t scream this time. I gasp. I whimper. It’s too deep for words. My body tenses, then melts into his, like I’m dissolving around him. I don’t feel the ground. I don’t feel the water. I only feel him. And it’s everything.
My vision blurs. My walls clamp down around him, and he groans like I’m pulling his soul out of his body. He follows with a shout, spilling inside me—thick and hot—as he thrusts one last time.
He gathers me close, our bodies still shaking in the aftermath.
When it’s over, he pulls out slowly and turns me in his arms. His hand cups my cheek. His breath fans across my lips.
“You ruin me,” he murmurs, eyes softer now. “And I love it.”
His autumn eyes gleam, turning molten—more caramel than gold, like hot chocolate on the coldest winter day.
“Breakfast was amazing,” he laughs and kisses me with a softness that I am quickly getting accustomed to. “We should have that every morning.”
I laugh into his chest and reach up to press my lips to his. I want to live in this bubble forever. But the storm’s still out there, brewing beyond these walls. But I know that whatever is coming, we will face it together.
Giacomo will not win, even if I have to pull the trigger myself.
