Chapter 16
Matteo
The elevator doors slide open just as the clock turns nine exactly. After straightening my tie, I stride over to her door and knock, two sharp raps that echo in the empty corridor.
There’s a moment of silence, then the shuffle of movement on the other side. When the door swings open, my brain short-circuits for exactly one-point-five seconds.
“Tadaa!” Raven exclaims, holding her arms up in a V shape.
Fuck, she looks like a fever dream made flesh. Tiny black shorts that barely qualify as clothing cling to her. Her legs seem endless, encased in knee-high black leather boots that add dangerous inches to her height.
A fitted black blazer hugs her waist, its lapels open wide to reveal a black bra. Topping it all off is a wide-brimmed black hat, her blonde hair cascading in waves around her shoulders and down her back.
“You like?” Raven purrs playfully, batting her eyelashes before doing a twirl.
Like? Is she fucking kidding me? I’m in love with this outfit.
“Well?” she asks, a knowing smile playing at her red-painted lips. “Is this sinful enough for you?”
My cock instantly hardens, pressing painfully against my zipper as blood rushes south. I keep my face carefully blank, though I know my eye betrays me by the way her smile widens.
“Turn around again,” I command, voice rougher than I intended.
Raven raises an eyebrow before executing another slow, deliberate twirl while shimmying her hips. My fingers flex involuntarily at my sides, itching to grab, to possess, to mark.
“Fuck. Raven,” I manage, my gaze traveling from the hat to the boots and back again. “You look incredible.”
She beams and pats me above my heart. “Of course I do. My ass on display is the prettiest thing you’ll ever see,” she sing-songs.
Before I can respond, she surprises me by rising on her tiptoes and pressing her mouth against mine. The kiss is hot and demanding, her tongue immediately seeking entrance. For a moment, I’m too stunned to react. Something punches low in my gut—a hit I don’t fucking see coming.
Then instinct takes over, and I’m kissing her back, one hand tangling in her hair to hold her in place while the other grabs a handful of her nearly-bare ass. She gasps into my mouth, and I swallow the sound, deepening the kiss until I feel her body melt against mine.
Her hat falls to the floor as I back her inside her apartment, not stopping until she’s against the wall. I pin her in place with my hips, letting her feel exactly what she’s done to me. Her hands clutch at my shoulders, nails digging in even through the layers of my suit.
It would be so easy to slide my hand between her legs, to feel if she’s as wet as I suspect she is, to make her come right here with her boots still on and the door wide open. The thought sends a jolt of pure lust through me, making me grind against her.
With monumental effort, I tear my mouth from hers, both of us breathing hard. Her lipstick is smeared, her eyes glazed with desire, her cheeks flushed pink. She’s never looked more fuckable.
“If we don’t leave right now,” I growl against her ear, my hand still firmly gripping her ass, “I’m going to fuck you until you can’t remember your own name.”
Raven shivers, but her smile remains defiant. “Don’t threaten me with a good time,” she quips.
I release her abruptly, stepping back before I give in to temptation. “Let’s go, Little Thief.”
Ignoring her pout, I step back outside the apartment, and while I wait for her to re-do her lipstick and get her bag, I get her hat and call the elevator.
After she’s locked up, I hand it to her, and together we get into the elevator, where she uses the mirror to make sure the hat’s positioned exactly how she wants it.
“Nice suit, by the way. Very Mobster-chic.” Her eyes rake over me appreciatively.
“Mobster-chic?” I question, arching an eyebrow.
“Mafia-chic?” she asks. “Gangster-chic? Whack-you-with-a-cannoli-chic?”
She continues to make suggestions, each more ridiculous than the last, until we hit the lobby. When the doors open, she marches past me, her hips swaying exaggeratedly with each step, and I fucking groan as I adjust my aching cock.
My car waits at the curb, and I hold the door open for her. “Such manners,” she teases, making a gun with her thumb and index finger and aiming it at me. “Appreciate it.”
“You’re something fucking else,” I chuckle as I get into the backseat, sitting beside her.
The drive to the Leone Room isn’t as fast as I’d like. Each red light feels personal, or maybe that’s the heat between us. Raven sits beside me, crossing and uncrossing her legs, the leather of her boots creaking softly with each movement.
“So,” she says, breaking the silence, “is this favor just arm candy duty, or should I be preparing for something more exciting? Like witnessing a hit or helping you bury a body?”
I can’t help the slight twitch at the corner of my mouth. “You watch too many movies.”
“And you didn’t answer my question.”
The driver comes to a stop at another red light. While the car stills, the air between us tightens.
Before answering, I turn to really look at her. “Are you really this brave, Little Thief?” I muse out loud. “Or is it recklessness?”
“Why can it only be one or the other?” she challenges, pursing her lips.
“Valid point,” I concede. Either Raven lives in denial, or she’s playing a good fucking game.
When we’re almost at the club, she huffs with annoyance. “This is ridiculous. You invited me to come with you, but you won’t tell me what to expect,” she gripes.
“I didn’t invite you. You’re fulfilling a favor,” I remind her. “And I’m being generous. Most people who owe me don’t get choices.”
Instead of taking offense at my tone or words, she waves me off. “Semantics.”
“Everyone at the Leone Room already knows who you are. What you are to me.” I curl my fingers around her throat, not squeezing, just resting there. “By now, rumors will have spread, and they’ll all know you’re mine.”
Vito’s been working hard to spread that story. After our talk, he knows exactly who she is, what her role is, and how important it is that people know Raven belongs to me.
He also has strict orders to keep an eye on her, even if I’m with her. After last night, I’m not taking any risks with my Little Thief’s safety. A part of me knows I should set her free, get her far away from me. If only I was a good man.
She lets out a wistful sigh. “And they say romance is dead,” she smarts.
Fuck me, she’s perfect. All attitude, and it’s fucking turning me on.
“Some people wear their secrets on their skin,” I rasp. “The two men who cornered you outside my home had tats shaped like a black circle. If you see anyone else with ink like that, I want to know.”
Her brow furrows. “You want me to study people’s tats? Really?”
I let go of her throat as the driver pulls into the club’s parking area. Out of the window, I see the doormen already eyeing the vehicle, but they stay put.
“Yes,” I reply. “And listen out for anything you think would interest me.”
“That’s not helpful,” she hisses, frustration blooming on her cheeks like a fever.
I stroke my thumb over her wrist, feeling her pulse jump like a trapped animal beneath my touch. “You’re not here so I can help you,” I remind her. “You’re earning your life by helping me. Besides, if I knew exactly what and who, I wouldn’t need you.”
She purses her lips. “So I’m just supposed to… what? Stand around looking pretty and collect gossip?”
I can’t help smirking at the incredulity in her tone. “You’re allowed to sit down,” I clarify as I open the car door.
Inside, the Leone Room thrums with its usual energy—the blend of business and pleasure that makes it uniquely mine. Music pulses just loud enough to cover private conversations, lighting sculpted to create shadows perfect for discretion.
Every eye turns to us as we enter, conversations pausing mid-sentence. I feel Raven’s posture stiffen beside me, but she keeps her chin high.
Whispers follow in our wake. I catch fragments of conversation.
“It’s true. Matteo’s seeing someone…”
“… never brings women here…”
“… the blonde in the hat is with Matteo…”
I find myself enjoying the ripple of unease that spreads as I acknowledge greetings with curt nods. Raven walks beside me, somehow making my possessive guidance look like an escort of honor.
Her chin is high, her steps confident in those fuck-me boots. She fits here in a way that should worry me but instead feeds some primal satisfaction I hadn’t anticipated.
I slide my arm around her waist, pulling her flush against me. “Look at all those men drooling over you,” I murmur. “They want what belongs to me.”
Before she can respond, I spin her and capture her mouth with mine. The kiss is a possessive claiming—a show for every person watching. And… fuck it. It’s for me most of all. I fucking love kissing my Little Thief.
I slide my hand up to tangle in her hair, tugging just hard enough to make her gasp. The sound parts her lips, and I take full advantage, my tongue claiming her mouth like I own it. Because I do.
Her body melts into mine, whether from instinct or strategy, I don’t care. She tastes like coffee and something sweet, and her little whimper when I nip her lower lip has me so fucking hard I can barely stand it.
Fuck, what started as a show is quickly turning into more. I’ve never been a believer, but kissing Raven is like a religious experience. Especially when she moans my name.
“Matteo.”
I press closer, letting her feel how hard I still am. “Feel what you’re doing to me, Little Thief,” I groan, nipping at her lip again. “I’m going to be hard as fuck all night.”
When I pull back, she’s panting. “Stop kissing me stupid,” she murmurs. “I need to think straight.”
Chuckling, I take a step back and reluctantly let go of her. “Do your thing,” I instruct, voice rougher than intended.
She blinks, disoriented for a moment before her mask clicks back into place. “Yes, Matty,” she sasses.