Chapter 35 #2
Our home smelled like jasmine and the faint spice of the coffee he brewed this morning. Warm lighting reflected off the marble floors, Manhattan skyline hazed behind the windows like a sleeping beast.
Matteo was sitting in the living room, one forearm draped lazily over the sofa back, reading the paper like he owned my world.
He wore black slacks, white shirt open at the throat, sleeves rolled to reveal tan, muscular forearms, a gold watch glinting at the wrist. His jacket rested carelessly over the sofa. Dark hair pushed back. He’d just gotten back too.
When he heard my heels click across the marble, he looked up.
His brows pulled into that sexy frown, sharp and assessing, like he tasted the storm on my expression.
I didn’t even take off my coat.
“It was never just business. Was it?”
The frown smoothed off his face. Expression ironed flat – cold, precise. A predator scenting blood. He folded the paper slowly, set it aside, and stood.
“No,” he said, voice low and certain. “It wasn’t.”
My pulse stuttered.
“You never intended to let me go once the year was over,” I breathed.
He didn’t answer with words. Just stepped forward with that slow, deliberate prowl that made my knees weaken. He filled the space – tall, broad, dangerous. My heartbeat climbed my throat.
“Did you?” I forced out.
“No.”
“What were you going to do if I didn’t agree to the new arrangement?”
He stopped a breath away, close enough that I felt the heat of his body through my coat. His answer was a sin delivered like a promise.
“Handcuff you to my bed.”
“Matteo.”
“One way or another, you would’ve.”
“You don’t know that.”
His eyes softened.
“If there is one thing I know for certain, Donna…” He murmured, brushing a strand of hair from my cheek with a touch too gentle for the threat beneath his words. “It is that.”
His certainty wrapped around me like smoke – thick, suffocating, impossible to ignore. I stepped back, enough to breathe, not enough to escape him. The penthouse suddenly felt too warm, too intimate, like the walls themselves were closing in.
“You lied to me.”
Matteo’s jaw flexed once. “I’ve never lied to you.”
“You didn’t tell me the truth either.”
Silence stretched between us, heavy and electric. Rain started outside the window, catching city light like falling glitter. He stood there, still and devastatingly patient, waiting for the next strike.
I stared at him – the man I married for business.
The man I let into my bed, my body, my heart.
Before I even realized it was happening.
“Why?” My voice cracked, anger and heartbreak mixing like ice melting against fire.
His brows drew together. “Why what, Francesca?”
My throat felt tight. “Why.”
He moved closer again, slow as a tide. One hand lifted to my jaw, fingertips grazing gently, like he thought I might shatter beneath them. His eyes were darker up close – espresso and sin.
“I would’ve taken any chance to be with you, mi amor.”
Soft. Raw. Too honest.
“Why?”
His gaze didn’t waver.
“Because I’m crazy about you. Because I love you. Because I haven’t been able to think about anything else but your gorgeous face and smart mouth ever since I’ve met you. Because I can’t sleep anymore unless you’re right there in my arms.”
I felt the world narrow to the space between us.
We stepped forward, erasing it.
He pressed me against the wall, caging me in with one arm above my head, his other hand sliding to my waist like he had every right to touch me. My pulse was a drum in my throat.
“You lied to me,” I whispered against his lips.
“Do I make you happy?” he asked, eyes burning into mine.
The truth slipped out without thought. “Yes…”
“Would you rather be with someone else?”
The idea sent something violent through me. “Never.”
His voice dropped, possessive and tender in the same breath. “Are you still mine, baby?”
My knees nearly gave out. “Of course.”
He kissed me like he’d been drowning for weeks and I was the first breath of air. His mouth crushed against mine, warm, demanding, reverent. I grabbed his shirt, pulling him closer, letting the anger melt into want, into relief, into something I wasn’t brave enough to name.
We only separated when our lungs begged for mercy, foreheads pressed together, breath mingled.
“I’m sorry you were in the dark,” he murmured, thumb tracing my bottom lip. “But I’m not sorry I did it. I won’t apologize for doing everything in my power to make you mine.”
“Always the gentleman.”
“I might not have perfect morals, but I vow to you, Francesca… I will always put you first. Always.”
Warmth spread in my chest – slow, terrifying, impossible to stop. “I know…”
“I love you, Francesca. I’ve never said that to anyone in my life.”
I swallowed, the admission pulling my heart open like dawn breaking. “I love you, too.”
“Good.”
My fingers tugged at his collar. “Don’t lie to me again.”
His eyes locked on mine, unblinking. “I won’t.”
I believed him.
“Come on,” Matteo nodded towards the kitchen. “I’ll make you dinner.”
“You better,” I murmured, still a little grumpy, but in too deep to be truly mad.
He smiled, his arm only tightening around my waist as we walked deeper into our home. “How does stake sound?”