Twenty #2
I blush and take a long sip of wine, weighing just how catty I want to be. I’ve had enough to drink that I could go there.
He reaches across the table, curling his fingers around mine. “Just say it. I know you’re not a horrible person.”
“You’re too good to me.” I sigh. “At first, it was casual. A few dates here and there. Then suddenly, she was living with my dad. She started showing up at the office. And every time she left, she made a show of re-buttoning her blouse like we were supposed to believe something had just happened behind closed doors. It worked, too. My father stopped looping me into key meetings. Stopped asking for my input. He smiled and nodded like always, but I was being quietly replaced. It was pathetic. But apparently, I think she’s got some sort of voodoo casting vagina situation going on, because my father cannot get enough. ”
Matteo leans in, lips brushing the corner of my mouth. “You have a magic pussy I can’t get enough of.”
I laugh and trace his cheek with my knuckles. “That’s because you know how to make it sing.”
His eyes darken, gleaming with heat. “Are you staying tonight?”
“I hadn’t planned on it. You said dinner.”
He takes my hand and rises, guiding me with him. I blow out the candle as he leads us into the living room. We sink onto the couch beside the flickering gas fireplace, the Bay twinkling through the windows like a sky flipped upside down.
“She trying to take over the rough diamond line?” he asks, his tone low but tight.
“Actually, no. She wants to kill it. We have a problem with GEM Designs about the use of their tools that I’m sure she started. And given my dad’s reaction, I’m sure she’s whispering to him that the board won’t go for it. But they haven’t even seen Antoine’s designs.”
Matteo stiffens beside me. I feel it in the set of his jaw, the tension in his frame.
I lean into him. “Gianna told me who else approached you about the stones. Once the board hears that, they’ll be intrigued.
Antoine’s team is creating several pieces to match the dress, and I have a meeting later this week to show the early concepts.
It’s not the full pitch, but I don’t want to give Heather too much time to poison the well. ”
He exhales slowly, tension easing from his shoulders. I know he has a lot riding on this too.
“Heather’s got two board members in her corner,” I continue. “They’ve always resented that I got forty percent of the company in my parents’ divorce. They think those shares should’ve reverted to my dad and that he’d have given them a cut.”
“Why would they think that?” Matteo frowns.
“They were early consultants when he opened the first store and expanded globally. He bought their shares back with interest long before we entered the luxury market. But Mother’s father financed the business when they started.
During the divorce, they tried to buy back in and were shut out.
My dad gave them board seats instead. Now, they make six figures to show up three times a year. ”
“But they can’t stop your dad from retiring and naming you CEO.”
“No. But Heather’s trying to convince him she’s the better choice. I think she’s angling for his shares in the will. We’re not public. Ownership depends entirely on internal agreements and estate planning. I’ll be forever grateful to my mom for structuring it the way she did.”
“I’m sorry,” Matteo murmurs.
“She keeps claiming the rough diamonds will dilute the brand. But I see something else, something bold and untamed. The line isn’t just new.
It’s mine. It’s what I bring to the company.
And it will bring new and younger customers to our store.
Heather even tried to crash today’s meeting, saying my dad invited her.
I don’t buy it. So instead, I’m going straight to the board.
I’ll show them what Antoine’s working on, and if I know my dad, he’ll be impressed. ”
“I hate that you’re dealing with all this,” Matteo says, pulling me closer. “We’ve got other buyers, but you have first pick. And our deal is exclusive.”
“I think we’ll be okay.” I tilt up and kiss him. “Now, your turn. What happened after I left Sunday? And what’s going on with Willow?”
He groans and reaches for my hand, and we both stare out at the view of the Bay.
“She rubbed herself all over me, demanded I fire Trixie again so she could move in, and tried to extort me.” I clench my jaw.
“There’s no word for a woman who weaponizes motherhood like this.
But whatever it is, it doesn’t belong near Amelia.
Today, she skipped her visit with Amelia, took two five-thousand-dollar cash advances against my credit card, and trashed her hotel room. ”
My hand flies to my chest. “What?”
“I met with a family lawyer. We have a plan. It is speeding up because I stepped out of the car and got served today. She’s suing me for full custody and a massive support package.”
“Oh my God, Matteo. That’s a nightmare. She doesn’t even know how to talk to her own daughter.”
He nods. “Willow’s not in this for Amelia. She wants money. She’s making threats. Saying she wants to move in here.”
My stomach turns. “I don’t even think she likes Amelia. It’s like she sees her as a paycheck.”
“She’s charging everything to the room. Room service, spa, shopping. And she’s pulling cash advances. The lawyer says to let her keep going it will help us in the end.”
I sit bolt upright. “There’s no way she can really do all that, is there?”
“Jim’s looking into it. So far, she’s racked up about sixty grand on the hotel bill and with all the damages at this rate they think it will be two hundred grand by the end of her stay.”
“That’s sixty grand in less than two weeks. What—did she buy a small car?”
“We don’t know. She has massive debt. We believe if I pay her to leave, she’ll keep coming back.”
“This is disgusting,” I say, sinking back against the cushions. “At least she’s leaving soon, right?”
He hesitates. “Maybe not. She wants custody. I think she’s hoping to stay indefinitely.”
“No.” I bolt upright again. “She can’t do that.”
“She’s trying.”
“Do you have a plan?”
“My lawyer says let her keep digging her hole. And she’s doing a great job of it. But yeah, it’s all a money grab. And we’ll use it all against her.”
I look up at the ceiling, exasperated. “It’s appalling, to use your child like that.”
“She never had a decent example of how to be a mom.”
My mom walked out when I needed her most, and I’d never do what she’s doing. But I keep that thought to myself.
I rest my head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. “You’re an incredible father, Matteo. Amelia’s so lucky.”
Silence stretches between us. Warm. Safe.
“Thank you for coming tonight,” he murmurs.
Oh no. I’ve misread all the signs. “I should go,” I say, already reaching for my bag.
“No, wait.” He sits up. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant…I like having you here. Knowing you’re on my side. I don’t feel like I’m fighting this alone.”
A rush of warmth blooms in my chest. “That’s funny,” I say quietly. “I feel the same way with my own drama.”
I rise, hesitating. “Still, I should probably go.”
But Matteo sets down his wineglass and turns toward me. In one smooth motion, he reaches for my hand and leads me to his bedroom. “The cameras are on throughout the house. As much as I’d love to record me making you climax, I want it for personal viewing. Not for everyone at Clear Security.”
I blush. “Thank you.”
He pulls me into his bedroom and shuts the door. He lays me back on the bed and hovers over me, his gaze burning into mine. His fingers slide through my hair, his scent warm and woodsy.
His mouth finds mine—slow, searching, all-consuming. And when his tongue sweeps past my lips, I let him in.
Kissing Matteo is a bad idea. I know that. He has enough on his plate, and I shouldn’t be adding to it.
But I want him.
I want the weight of his body pressed onto mine, his hands on my skin, his mouth claiming every inch like it belongs to him.
A soft whimper escapes before I can catch it—half gasp, half plea—as his hand slips under my blouse, unfastening my bra with practiced ease. The fabric shifts, pushing up and baring me to him. He pauses just long enough to look—really look—his eyes dark and gleaming with raw hunger.
Then his mouth is on mine again, stealing my breath, chasing every thought from my head.
He moves lower, lips trailing fire across my skin until he closes around a nipple, teasing, tasting, worshipping.
His hands are everywhere—stroking, coaxing, grounding me in this moment as I arch beneath him, legs wrapping around his waist, his name spills out, reverent and wrecked. Like worship, like surrender.
“Matteo…”
I should stop this. Should slow down. Say something. Do something.
But I don’t.
I won’t.
Let the world see. Let them judge. I’d still choose this. Nothing matters except the way he’s making me feel.
He shifts, sliding lower. His fingers dip beneath my waistband, and with a slow, deliberate tug, he strips my pants away.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know this is messy. Complicated.
But I’m already bare. Already his.
And I’m going to savor every second.