50. Matteo
Matteo
Iforget how to breathe when Azra emerges from the bathroom wearing fitted jeans, a soft cream sweater, and cropped black boots. She pulled her hair back into a low bun that showcases her delicate neck, and her flushed cheeks indicate more than just a warm shower is responsible for them.
“Damn,” I murmur, drooling. “Trying to kill me this early in the morning?”
She rolls her eyes, but she blushes too. “It’s just clothes.”
“Not on you.”
She walks toward me, and I swear the cabin walls close in on me. She smells like vanilla and soap, and me.
I like the last part very much.
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay a little longer?
” My cock hardens from recalling why she smells like me.
What’s the use of showering if you aren’t filthy dirty before entering it?
In case you’re wondering, my filth has nothing to do with dirt.
“We’ve still got a fuck ton of surfaces to test out. ”
Azra snorts, and I’m hard enough to bounce a nickel off.
I’ve always known she is strong, but watching her rebuild herself piece by piece the past two weeks has left me in pure fucking awe. She’s a walking billboard for sex, sensuality, and strength—and thank fuck, all mine.
Heart. Soul. And body.
“I don’t just think you’re lying, Ruso. I know you are. We’ve tested every surface… twice.”
Just like when I tossed her onto the bed and checked every inch of her to confirm she wasn’t hurt after I entered her without a rigorous stint of foreplay, heat fans across her cheeks. “I’ve always believed good things come in threes.”
Her hooded gaze conveys that she’s horny but pretending not to be. “It’s time to get back. Revenge waits for no one.”
Under my breath, I whisper, “Except you.”
She purses her lips. “What was that?”
“Nothing.” Quickly, I grab my jacket and her bag. “Come on.”
I guide her outside, and her eyes widen at the motorcycle parked in the driveway.
“You got your bike delivered?” she asks, practically vibrating.
“If you thought I’d give up an opportunity to have every inch of you plastered against me again, you clearly don’t know me, sweetheart.”
While she pokes out her tongue, I mount my bike, then hold out my hand in offering. She climbs on behind me, wraps her arms around my waist, then presses her cheek between my shoulder blades.
Just like that, the world feels right again.
We ride down the mountain, weaving through familiar streets that have never felt more like home than they do with her holding on to me. Every time she excitedly squeals in response to my sharp turns, something warm and dangerous stirs in my chest.
Her trust is addictive, but instead of making me reckless, it makes me more cautious. I stay only ten miles above the speed limit and always keep two wheels on the asphalt.
Just like when we made love instead of fucking, my caution doesn’t dampen Azra’s excitement in the slightest. By the time we reach the Caruso compound, she’s buzzing.
After climbing off my bike, she heads for the main entrance. I scoop her into my arms before she gets two steps away.
“Matteo!”
Under the watchful eyes of my brothers, who are all standing in the foyer, I carry her over the threshold like a groom with his bride. I don’t take her to our room as the rapid increase in her scent suggests.
I head for the basement.
As I gallop down the dusty stairwell, Azra’s arms tighten around my neck.
“Where are we going?”
I both feel and hear the incline in her pulse when I answer, “I’ve got a surprise for you.”
“If I had known we were exchanging gifts, I would have rummaged through the bottom of my purse for a couple of quarters.”
I toss my head back and laugh. She still thinks she’s broke as fuck, but even with my money removed from the equation, she’s as wealthy as a princess.
Her father may not have given her a single cent her entire childhood, but her brothers have always split the ?ahin revenue five ways.
Azra is as wealthy as they are, but since that’s their story to share with her, I’ll keep my mouth shut.
The basement door creaks when I push it open. The air shifts immediately. It’s cooler, heavier, and reeks of piss and blood.
Azra shivers slightly. Not from fear, more from the temperature difference. The walls of the basement have never seen sunlight, so the coolness of the boarded-up space can’t be missed.
I tighten my hold as we descend the stairs. The wooden steps groan under our combined weight, and the deeper we go, the more the air changes. It’s quiet down here, and still.
Thank fuck it’s the stillness that loudens every breath—even the ones of someone about to lose the ability.
At the bottom of the stairs, I set Azra gently on her feet. Her boots touch the cold concrete, and she steadies herself with a hand on my arm.
“Matteo… why are we down here?”
“Wait.”
I step in front of her, blocking her view of the room, before my fingers hunt for the light switch.
When I find it, I return my focus to Azra. Her eyes are wide and curious yet one hundred percent trusting.
I flip the switch, and the old tube lighting hums to life.
It flickers once before it floods the basement with a warm golden light.
Her present—the thing I’d go to the end of the world to get for her time and time again—groans when light splinters through the hessian bag thrown haphazardly over his head.
“You survived hell, rebuilt yourself, and came out stronger than ever. You deserve something worthy of that strength. Something solely for you. Something I am so fucking grateful I can give you.”
I move to the badly bruised and battered yet still alive body to lower his shackles so the withering remains dangle as tall as Azra stands. Then I yank off the hessian bag hiding his hideously ugly face.
As her present slowly blinks, adjusting his eyes to the light he’s not seen in days, I watch each emotion that filters across Azra’s beautiful face.
Her lips twist, and a heavy line grooves between her brows, but shortly after, the smirk that knocked me on my ass slowly notches her mouth higher, and I know without doubt that waiting for her to find herself again before giving her this gift was the right thing to do.
“Antonio Adami, it gives me great pleasure to introduce you to my wife… and your judge, jury, and executioner.”