Chapter 34
MATTEO
I’m an asshole.
Already knew that. But tonight I had to go and prove it. Just to make sure there was no doubt left in anyone’s mind, least of all Sierra’s.
I clench my fist at my side, knuckles aching with the urge to put them through the drywall. I don’t. Barely.
Why did I say that shit to her?
She was trying to help me. She stood there with those wide brown eyes and asked me to let her in, and I treated her like she was the enemy. Like she was the problem instead of the only good thing I’ve had in years.
I’m not used to this. Having someone show up the way she did. Offering support like it’s something I deserve.
My mother tried, after Scott. But she was too broken herself. Too raw from everything that bastard did to us. So I learned to bury the ugly stuff. Grief. Anger. Fear. I shoved it all down where it couldn’t touch her.
And tonight, when Sierra asked me to stop hiding, I felt cornered. Trapped. So I did what I always do.
I bit.
The look on her face when I snapped at her. Christ. Like I’d reached across the space between us and slapped her.
This is what I do. I destroy things. It’s the only thing I’ve ever been good at.
But I can’t accept that. Not anymore. Not when Sierra’s the one I’d be ruining.
I grab my keys and head for the door.
I throw a leg over my bike and fire up the engine, twisting the throttle harder than I need to. Gravel spits behind me as I tear out of the driveway. The speedometer climbs as I weave through traffic. Not fast enough.
I can’t let her work an entire shift thinking I meant what I said.
The rooftop bar is half-full when I arrive. Young crowd, mostly. Groups clustered around high-top tables, the hum of conversation mixing with whatever pop song is playing through the speakers. I head straight for my usual stool at the end of the bar, eyes already searching for her.
I find her.
And she’s not alone.
There’s a guy behind the bar with her. Mid-twenties, lean build, standing way too fucking close to her while she shows him something on a clipboard.
Their heads are inches apart.
My teeth clench.
Sierra gestures with her hands, talking him through something. Making a drink, maybe. The guy picks up a bottle of vodka and pours, nodding at whatever she’s saying.
She must be training him. Fine. That’s her job.
But I don’t like the way he’s looking at her.
I’ve been avoiding her for days, and now some stranger is getting more of her attention than I have. That’s my own damn fault, but the knowledge doesn’t make the jealousy any easier to swallow.
Jealousy. That’s what this is. First time in my life I’ve felt it, and it burns in my chest like acid.
Sierra still hasn’t noticed me. She laughs at something the guy says, and the sound that usually warms something cold inside me now twists my gut into a knot.
What the hell is so funny? He’s supposed to be learning how to pour drinks, not auditioning for stand-up.
I grind my teeth.
A different bartender approaches. “Hi there. Can I get you something?”
I don’t look at her. I’m watching Sierra touch the trainee’s arm as she adjusts his grip on a shaker.
“Coke,” I bark out.
“Coming right up.” She sets the glass in front of me, and I lay down a five without breaking my stare. “Keep it.”
She moves away, probably sensing that I’m not in the mood for small talk.
I take a long sip, forcing myself to breathe. I came here to apologize. To make things right. Not to act like a possessive asshole just because some kid is learning his job.
Then Sierra bends over to grab a rack of glasses from a cart against the wall, and the trainee’s eyes drop straight to her ass.
Every muscle in my body goes rigid.
She’s wearing those tight jeans she likes, the ones that hug her curves like they were made specifically to torture me, and this little shit is staring at her like she’s on the menu.
I’m off my stool before I consciously decide to move.
I round the end of the bar and push into the space between Sierra and the trainee, getting right in his face. He stumbles back, eyes going wide, but I don’t give him room to retreat.
“The fuck are you looking at?” My voice comes out sharp. Dangerous.
“Matteo?” Sierra grabs my arm, trying to pull me back. Her fingers are warm through my shirt, and even now, even here, my body reacts to her touch. “What the hell are you doing?”
“You’re here to work.” I keep my eyes on the kid. Travis, according to his nametag. “Not to stare at my fiancée.”
“I-I wasn’t—” His voice cracks. “Man, I didn’t mean—”
“Keep your mind on the job.” I step closer. I’ve got three inches and fifty pounds of muscle on him, and from the way he shrinks back, he knows exactly how this would end if it came to that. “Because if you even think about touching her, you’ll lose the hand.”
“Matteo!” Sierra yanks at my arm again, harder this time. “You’re acting like a caveman.”
She’s right.
But she makes me crazy.
I turn to look at her, and that’s when I see it. The annoyance in her expression, yeah. But something else too. Something she probably doesn’t want me to notice.
Her pupils are dilated. She’s flushed.
She likes this.
I take her hand.
There’s a storeroom behind the bar. I’ve seen her disappear back there a couple of times during her shifts, coming back with napkins or those little umbrellas she sticks in the fruity drinks. I pull her toward it now, needing her away from the crowd. Away from Travis and his wandering eyes.
“What are you doing here?” she demands as I drag her down a short hallway.
I don’t answer. I find the door, shove it open, and pull her inside.
The space is small. Metal shelves line the walls. Boxes stacked on a stainless steel table in the center. The fluorescent light overhead flickers when I hit the switch, then steadies into a harsh white glow.
I close the door and back her against it.
“Matteo—”
I kiss her before she can finish.
It’s not soft. It’s not gentle. It’s tongue and teeth and desperation that feels like drowning. My hand fists in her hair, tilting her head back. The other grips her hip, fingers digging in, possessive in a way I’ve never been with anyone.
She tastes like cherry lip gloss and the mint she must have popped before her shift.
Sierra arches into me, her breasts pressing against my chest, and I’m hard in an instant. Every inch of my body is on fire. I want to devour her. Want to push inside her and remind us both that this is real. That we’re real. That I didn’t destroy everything with my bullshit.
My hand moves to the button of her jeans, and that’s when she breaks the kiss.
Her palm flattens against my chest, and I freeze. A tremor runs through me. Need, barely leashed.
“No. We need to talk,” she says.
Her voice is steady, but I can hear the crack beneath it. The hurt I put there.
I press my forehead to hers, forcing myself to breathe. To slow down. “I know.”
“You can’t just—” She stops. Starts again. “You can’t shut me out for days and then show up and think a kiss fixes everything.”
I close my eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Are you?”
The question cuts deep because she’s not sure. Because I gave her a reason to doubt me.
“Yes.” I pull back just enough to look at her. “I didn’t mean what I said earlier. Any of it.”
“Then why did you say it?”
Because I don’t know how to do this. Because no one has ever wanted to hold me together the way you tried to, and I didn’t know what to do with that.
But the words won’t come. They never do.
But she’s still here. Still waiting. So I try.
“I don’t know how to let someone in.” My gaze drops to her collarbone. Easier than her eyes. “You were trying to help, and I couldn’t—I didn’t know how to let you.”
The tension in her shoulders eases. Just a fraction. Just enough.
“Santino dying shook me.” I swallow hard. “I was there. I couldn’t stop it. He was—” I stop. Try again. “He mattered. And I’ve been carrying that. I didn’t want to put it on you, too. Not with everything you’re already dealing with.”
“Matteo.” Her hand comes up to cup my face, thumb brushing over my cheekbone. “You don’t have to carry things alone anymore.”
I want to believe that. I want to lean into her touch and let her share the weight I’ve been dragging around my whole life.
But old habits die hard.
“We’ll talk,” I say, my voice raw. “After. I’ll tell you everything. But I need you first, Sierra.” I press my hips forward, letting her feel what she does to me. “I need you now.”
She searches my face. I don’t know what she’s looking for, but whatever it is, she must find it.
“Okay,” she whispers. “But then we talk. Really talk. After.”
I nod. I’ll give her whatever she wants. Everything she wants.
Later.
I kiss her again, slower this time, tasting her properly. She makes a soft sound against my mouth, and my control slips another notch. My hands find the hem of her shirt, sliding beneath to touch bare skin. She’s warm. So fucking warm.
“Matteo.” My name comes out breathless. Needy.
I pull back just enough to meet her eyes. “Tell me to stop.”
She doesn’t.
Instead, she reaches for my belt.