Chapter Twenty-Two
Valentina
T he squaring of his jaw tells me Matteo doesn’t like that question. At all.
I slip one arm into the crisp white sleeve of his dress shirt, then the other, enjoying how big it is on me. My fingers shake as I button it closed, although I’m not sure if it’s because of the rough way Matteo just fucked me or because of what happened earlier tonight. There’s still an uneasy, jittery feeling leftover inside me from the paralyzing fear I felt when the shooting started. The panic attacks always leave invisible scars that remain in my body long after the physical symptoms have ebbed away.
“Come back tomorrow.”
Grabbing a pair of his briefs, I put those on next, making a concerted effort to avoid his gaze.
“That would be a mistake.”
“Why?” he asks. “Why can’t we have a bit of fun?”
“Fun?” I question, looking up at him.
The air leaves my lungs when I see the way he devours me with his eyes, clearly enjoying the sight of me swimming in his clothes.
“Yeah. Fun,” he rasps. “This tension between us is a year and a half in the making. Ignoring it clearly didn’t work, and fucking you twice hasn’t done the trick either,” he adds, flicking a pointed look down his body. I blush when I notice the way his hard cock strains against the fabric of his briefs. “I say we don’t get in the way of what Mother Nature intended and just keep fucking. No strings, nothing more serious than having fun. You’re hiding your identity and everything about who you are from me, and I’m…”
Matteo looks out the window at the bright lights of the city at night, seemingly searching for the right words to say. They seem to escape him.
“You’re engaged,” I finish flatly. His eyes fly back to mine. “Or about to be.”
He doesn’t question how I know. His hand rubs slowly over his mouth and down across his jaw as he pins me with an assessing stare.
Finally, he simply says, “Yes.”
Something insidious and ugly knots my insides together into a tight ball of anger. I’m sure it’s just leftover emotion from the earlier trauma of tonight.
The reality is he’s engaged ish , and I plan on disappearing once I figure out what happened to Adriana.
He’s related to the person who murdered my sister.
He’s a Leone of the Italian Mafia and I’m a da Silva of the Colombian cartel. That alone means a future between us is categorically impossible, even if there weren’t a dozen other obstacles.
“You've felt it from the beginning Valentina, don’t even try to deny it.” Matteo prowls unhurriedly towards me, sucking up a little more of the available oxygen with every step, consuming it with the ease of a blazing inferno. “We’re like two magnets drawn to each other without a say in it. I can’t seem to stay away from you.” He’s towering over me before I realize it, his chest pressed against mine, his fingers finding my chin. “And maybe it’s because I’m not supposed to,” he whispers. “I know you feel it too.”
There’s no use denying it. The fact that I’m still standing here, entertaining his suggestion is confirmation enough. “You’re suggesting we sleep together until one of us is done?”
“Yeah.”
This is complicated.
It’s everything I need it not to be.
“No strings? No expectations?”
I should never have kissed him, much less slept with him. Now twice. And still it’s not enough. Still there’s that itching in my veins, that restless clawing in my blood needing, no demanding, more.
His thumb brushes over my jaw. “Yeah.”
Matteo’s distended pupils tell me he doesn’t miss the change in my breathing, the way each breath comes quicker and shallower than the last.
His eyes fall to my lips and darken. He bends unhurriedly and presses a soft kiss to my mouth. He lingers a moment—an insolently long moment which announces loud and clear that he considers my mouth his to do with as he pleases—then pulls away, licking his lips lazily as he does so.
“Okay,” I hear myself say breathlessly.
Selfish .
He rewards me with a slow, cocky smile. “Okay.”
This man is dangerous to my emotional and physical health, and giving him more of me is a mistake, I know it.
And yet, the alternative—never touching him again—seems like it might be lethal to my health.
Matteo clears his throat.
“Just one thing though.” His eyes drop to my mouth. He breathes in sharply before his gaze comes back to mine. “I have to be clear about it so there’s no illusions between us. You can’t fall in love with me. There is no happy ending to be found with me.”
My face flames red. “This coming from the man who’s staring at my lips like they hold the key to his greatest desires.” I cross my arms over my chest. “I don’t fall, Phantom. You needn’t be worried.”
The corner of his lips curves upward like he finds the concept of a woman not falling in love with him laughable.
Prick.
“Interesting,” he drawls. “Because I remember you doing exactly that when we met.” He takes a step towards me. “But if you actually fall for me, you’ll only be tripping over your shattered heart on the way down.”
I scoff. “That’s never going to happen.”
“Awfully confident, aren’t you? Some would argue foolishly so.”
There’s a sharpness beneath his words that sends a pleased shiver through me. But he can’t demand that I not fall in love with him and also be mad when I say there’s no risk of that happening.
“Is there a problem?”
“No.” The tightness in his jaw would suggest otherwise.
“Great.”
His left eyelid twitches. Once. Twice. By the third, he’s rubbing a frustrated hand over his mouth and blurting out, “Just wondering how you can be so sure.”
“Because I shouldn’t even be sleeping with you,” I respond in an equal swell of emotion, surprising us both. I close my eyes and take a deep, steadying breath before opening them up again. “You’re right—there is this… magnetic pull between us that suffocates the rational, intelligent part of me and brings out this other side whose sole interest in life inexplicably seems to be wanting to strip you naked every time I see you. I’m tired of wasting my energy trying to resist it. That’s all this is though. Pure, physical attraction.” I can’t tell if I’m saying it to convince him or myself? “Even if there was more, I wouldn’t let myself fall in love with you. I can’t.”
“You can’t?” Matteo questions, choosing to hang on to the last two words.
I clench my jaw and look away. The heavy and corrosive feeling of guilt sweeps through my core and leaves a familiar ache in its wake.
“I lost my soulmate because I met you,” I admit dispassionately. “So no, Matteo. I can’t .”
It takes long seconds for me to reign the loose emotion back tightly inside me, before I can look at him. When I do, I find his eyes hardened to pure gunmetal, his face like granite.
“Another thing you lied to me about then.” His jaw shifts angrily, his words delivered on the edge of a knife. “You are here to avenge a dead lover.”
“No, I’m not.” I wave his words away carelessly.
It’s a fallacy that a soulmate can only be a romantic partner. A sibling is embedded in your very marrow and can give you the purest love you’ve ever known.
“Besides,” I continue. “You should heed your own warning. I’d say you’re in more danger of falling in love with me than I am with you.”
That single brow moves so far up his forehead, it disappears beneath his hairline.
“Oh, yeah?” he asks, taking another step closer until he’s towering over me. “How do you figure?”
A smile flicks across my lips. I look up at him from beneath my lashes, finding his agitated gaze roaming expectantly over my face.
“Masochism,” I explain.
His lips twitch, catching my attention and distracting me from seeing him reach out to grip my jaw. He holds it in his tight fist, bringing his mouth down until it's mere inches from mine.
“Wrong, cara ,” he hums. “If you knew what was at stake with my engagement, you’d understand that I will never walk away from it.”
A sick feeling twists my stomach and snaps the thick tension between us like a bucket of water poured over our heads. I slap his hand away and free my face. I want to tell him to stop calling me that, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction. Instead, I walk away.
“Valentina.” Matteo’s voice stops me at the door. In the dark, his green eyes look black. “This goes without saying, but you’ll no longer be dancing.”
I stiffen. “I—”
“You don’t need the money,” he interjects. “You’re two million and one hundred thousand pounds richer than before we met and I’ll wire you another two million right now if that’s what it’ll take to get you to stop.”
“It’s not about the money. I need to work.”
“Then you can work the bar only, like you did tonight.”
He doesn’t know it, but being at the bar helps me. It gives me better access than being on a stage.
I don’t appreciate his territoriality though, not when he continued adding notches to his bedpost after we met, and definitely not when he’s about to be owned by somebody else.
“Fine.” I exhale sharply through my nostrils. “But the second you touch your fiancée, Phantom, I’m done. You and I are through.”
“I won’t.”
“You will soon, and that’s fine.” My stomach lurches in revolt, demanding that I take that lie back. “But not while you’re touching me.”
His lips twitch again. “Like I said, I’ve already got my hands full with you.”
For now.
Those words go unsaid at the end of his sentence, but I hear them anyway.
“And outside of the bedroom, you stay out of my way,” I add. “I have things to do, you understand that now. I won’t have you interfering in them.”
It’s his turn to flare his nostrils angrily.
Compartmentalization. That’s the game plan moving forward. If I keep him contained to my nights, then I can use my days to focus on the investigation at Firenze and finally free myself from the distraction that is his presence.
“Fine,” he says.
“Fine,” I quip back, matching his tone.
Matteo throws on a pair of trousers, then stalks towards me and eventually past me out of his bedroom. Perplexed, I follow and watch him put on his shoes and grab his coat.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
He grabs his car keys from the counter. “I’m driving you home.”
“If I argue, can I get you to change your mind?”
“Nope.”
I jam the call button, cursing him out beneath my breath in my native tongue.
Matteo groans and walks into the elevator beside me. “Every time you insult me in Spanish, my dick gets hard. I think I’m starting to develop a degradation kink myself.”
“Your dick gets hard when I smile at you so that’s not exactly an earth shattering update.”
“Wrong. At this point if you genuinely smiled at me, cara , I think my dick might actually explode.”
I bite my bottom lip to stifle the inadvertent smile that tries to bloom to life at his words.
“Hey,” Matteo grumbles crossly, closing his palm around my nape. “That doesn’t mean you get to hide them from me either. What’s a little dick explosion when I’ve already taken a bullet for you tonight?”
The elevator opens just as I burst out laughing.
God, that feels good .
It’s like a gust of fresh air blows through my soul. I didn’t realize my body was perpetually tense until I feel it relax, the muscles in my shoulders loosening as the laughter works its way through me.
When’s the last time I laughed? Actually laughed with abandon?
I’m halfway to the Maserati when I notice Matteo isn’t following. He’s frozen in the frame of the elevator with an almost intoxicated look on his face, one hand pressed against the doors to keep them from closing as he stares at me with an intensity that quiets the demons in my mind.
“Are you coming?” I ask.
Raw hunger propels him forward. He closes the distance between us and jerks me roughly into his arms. His mouth is on mine before I have a chance to draw a breath, and he kisses me. His tongue shoves past my lips in a frenzied attack, intent on conquering instead of exploring. I’m lightheaded in moments, holding onto him with a desperation that matches his own.
When he pulls away, we’re both breathing heavily.
“What was that?” I squeak past swollen lips.
His gaze is fixed on my mouth, his voice hoarse. “I wanted to taste your laughter.”
I swallow hard. “And? What does it taste like?”
Heavy-lidded eyes meet mine. “You already know the answer to that question.”
Like mine .
Except I’m not his, am I? That’s his fian—
The car beeps behind me, shattering my rapidly spiraling thoughts. I’m thankful to be brought back to reality from… whatever that was. I turn on my heels and go to the car, getting in the passenger seat.
The door has barely closed behind me when it opens again and Matteo appears.
“What—?” He bends, scoops me into his arms and rips me out of the car. “Hey!”
Matteo sets me down on my feet beside him and closes the door with us on the other side of it.
“What the hell—”
He reopens it and inclines his head slightly as he motions with his hand for me to get in.
I stare at him. “Are you clinically unwell?”
“I’m the one who opens the door for you,” he answers easily. “Don’t try that again, cara .”
“You’re… you’re…” I sputter.
“Adorable?” he suggests helpfully.
“ Overbearing .”
“All I heard was “bear” and they’re super cute. I knew it. Tell me I’m adorable right now.”
I can’t believe this man is second in line to run the Italian Mafia and be one of the kings of the Underworld.
Well, no.
I can believe it because I’ve seen darker edges to him. The ruthless, take no prisoners side when he’s put his mind to something and is relentlessly pursuing it. The side that shows up every time he interacts with his brother.
But then there’s this version, one in complete opposition to everything I know and believe to be true about the Leones. One who just wants to open doors for me, and hold me, and protect me.
It wasn’t so long ago that we were trying to kill each other.
I get back in the car. “If you rip your stitches, I’m letting you bleed out this time. It’ll be slow and painful,” I snark.
His laughter is the last thing I hear before he closes the door. Then he’s sliding into the driver’s seat next to me.
“I could have sworn you said it was ‘just a graze’ a couple of hours ago.”
I cross my arms and look pointedly out the window as he navigates towards the exit. “Maybe it nicked an artery and you’re bleeding out internally.”
“Now that you mention it, I am feeling a little lightheaded.”
My head whips around, my gaze snapping to his face. He doesn’t seem ashen or pale, he’s not shaking, there’s no sweat beading at his brow… but there is a growing smirk tugging at his lips.
My eyes narrow on him. “You’re not nearly as funny as you think you are.”
Matteo has one wrist resting casually on top of the steering wheel, the move effortlessly masculine and attractive.
He turns his signature charming grin my way. “Agree to disagree.”
There are some individuals who just inexplicably draw people in. It’s in their aura, in the way confidence and assertiveness just ooze off of them. Matteo is one of those people. He’s impossible to look away from, let alone stay away from.
His gaze slides to mine. When he finds me staring at him, his grin dissolves into something softer, something that feels consequential.
Something that’s decidedly not just fun .
And we just had that conversation less than fifteen minutes ago.
Fuck.
He reaches across the console. I watch as though removed from my own body as he threads his fingers through mine and holds my hand firmly in my lap. He stares at the road ahead, the expression on his face content like this is the most natural thing in the world for him.
I shake my hand loose of his and fist it on my thigh instead, ignoring the way my fingers tingle where he touched them.
Matteo doesn’t seem surprised that I pull away. “You won’t hold my hand?”
“That’s too intimate.”
His jaw shifts violently, his teeth scraping loudly over each other, then it goes rigid.
“Will you at least tell me your real name?” he finally asks.
My heart clenches violently. He already has it, he just doesn’t know. I’m not sure why I told him the truth that day. It was my first slip up with him. The first crack through which I’d let a part of the old me filter through.
Now I’m desperately trying to shove that part of me back in, to close the crack and pretend like it was never there, while he’s doing his best to blow it wide open and make himself at home inside the tattered remains of my soul.
“I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”
Matteo’s hand closes around my thigh just above my knee and he squeezes. I feel his touch in my core as a bolt of pleasure shoots straight to my pussy.
“Well, it’s too long.”
“Excuse me?” I turn to stare at him. “What do you mean?”
“‘Valentina’ is just too many syllables to get through,” he explains. “I feel like I’m reprimanding you half the time. Until you finally decide to be honest with me, you need a nickname.”
“You don’t get to just give me one.”
“I’m going to be fucking you every night.” He turns a heavy gaze on me that makes me bite my bottom lip to keep from moaning. “I think that gives me the right to call you what I want. How about Val?”
I scrunch my nose in disgust. “Ew, that’s giving white woman.” Matteo chuckles. His fingers dance shamelessly along my inner thigh, distracting me into slipping up. “My brother calls me Vale ,” I offer.
“You have a brother?” A pleased smile toys across his lips at the revelation.
Shit .
It’s too late to take it back now. “Yes.”
His hand leaves my thigh and moves up to cup my cheek. His eyes stay focused on the road, but then he glances at me. His thumb brushes affectionately over my skin like he’s rewarding me.
“I’m not calling you by another man’s nickname, not even your brother’s. Tina?” he suggests.
He laughs when he catches the unimpressed look on my face. “I’m not a forty five year old cashier.”
“Okay, no Tina. Len? Wait no, that sounds like you’re a burly IT guy. Lena? Or Leni?”
I suck in a sharp, startled breath. Pressure settles in my chest and throat making it impossible for me to speak.
My gaze fixes blindly on something in the distance to hide my reaction from Matteo.
Only one person calls me that.
Called me that.
The thing with grief is it’s a burden that never lifts. You somewhat get used to it—over time, I’ve learned to shoulder the weight of it until it’s become just another part of me. Sometimes I think I could almost look past it, start to rebuild maybe, but then something will trigger it. Usually something rather innocuous like a fond memory or a clumsy word or being called by a much beloved nickname, and suddenly the weight becomes unbearable. It drags at my every step until eventually it drags me under where every breath is a struggle and living feels impossible.
Matteo doesn’t miss the change in my demeanor because he never misses anything. “You don’t like it, cara ?”
“No,” I choke. “I do.”
How could I possibly explain to him what that name means to me? How could I ever make him understand the person I used to be when I was just Leni? A girl full of joy and laughter and love.
She feels like nothing more than a distant memory to me now, one that grows hazier and further away with every passing day.
She used to be me, but she’s a stranger to me now.
Matteo makes a contented sound deep in his chest. “I quite like Leni. It suits you. You’re Valentina on the outside, the girl who punched me in the face at Firenze , but you’re Leni on the inside.” At a red light, he cups my nape and turns my face until my eyes meet his. “The girl who made me a tourniquet in the middle of a shootout.”
I’m the one who crosses the console this time, except that I’m not reaching for his hand.
I lean over and press my lips to his.
His hold on my nape tightens brutally when our mouths make contact. He groans and grips my waist with his free hand, but he lets me control the kiss. It’s unlike every other we’ve had tonight, slower and more sensual. There’s no rushing, just an altogether different kind of desperation.
A violent honk forces us apart like teenagers caught making out by their parents.
I’m halfway into his lap, my hands on his shoulder and face, my chest moving quickly with every rise and fall of my breathing.
Matteo grins at me as the cars honk again, shattering our brief moment of folly. I watch several cars drive around us, shouting colorful expletives as they pass us.
It’s then that I take stock of our surroundings and realize that we’re only a block or so away from my house. I fall back into my seat, eyeing him warily.
“I never gave you my address,” I draw out suspiciously. “How do you know where I live?”
Matteo repositions himself in his seat, gripping at the fabric of his crotch to adjust his hard cock.
“I followed you home,” he answers casually.
The hairs raise on the back of my neck. The admission doesn’t make him uncomfortable, quite the contrary in fact. He meets my stare straight on and owns it like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
“When?”
After turning into my street, he parks in front of the home I’m renting via Airbnb and shuts off the ignition. Only then does he answer me.
“The day you auditioned.”
“Why?”
This time, when he looks at me, his eyes are full of desire so potent, it could easily be mistaken for deep longing.
“I should think the answer to that question was obvious,” he whispers, his next words ramming right into the left side of my chest. “I wasn’t letting you slip through my fingers a second time.”