Chapter 10 Matteo
MATTEO
I’m parked outside Sierra’s building, engine idling, fingers drumming against the steering wheel.
Ring shopping. That’s what today is. Taking a woman I barely know to pick out an engagement ring for a fake marriage designed to piss off a man I want to kill.
My life is fucking weird.
The building door swings open. Sierra steps out into the morning sun, and my breath stalls.
She’s wearing shorts that hug her thick thighs and a loose top that does nothing to hide the curves underneath. Her blonde hair catches the light, falling around her shoulders in soft waves.
Christ.
I grip the steering wheel harder.
She spots my truck and heads straight for it, her walk confident despite the nervous energy I can read in the set of her shoulders. When she climbs into the passenger seat, her vanilla scent fills the cab immediately.
“Hey.” She gives me a flat smile. “So. We’re really doing this.”
“That’s the plan.”
I pull away from the curb. She fidgets with the hem of her shorts, and I can practically hear the thoughts racing through her head before she opens her mouth.
“I never thought I’d be ring shopping under these circumstances,” she says. “I always imagined it would be, I don’t know, romantic. Candlelit dinner first. Maybe some wine. Definitely not a business transaction with a guy who looks like he wants to murder someone.”
“I do want to murder someone.”
She laughs, but it’s breathy. Anxious. “Right.
“Has to look real,” I say. “That’s the whole point.”
“I know,” she replies. “It just feels surreal.”
I say nothing. There’s nothing to say.
She fills the silence, nervous energy spilling out as words. Talks about her job, how she ended up bartending instead of finishing her business degree. Her family, the big loud dinners, the parents who worry too much. Her dating history, which is mostly unremarkable until Viktor.
“He was charming at first,” she says quietly. “They always are, right? The bad ones. They know exactly what to say.”
My gaze slides her way. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”
“I know. I just...” She trails off. “I guess I want you to know I’m not stupid. I didn’t see who he really was until it was too late.”
“You’re not stupid.”
She goes still beside me. I can feel her gaze on the side of my face, but I look back at the road. I don’t know why I said it. I don’t do reassurance. I don’t do comfort. But something about the shame in her voice scraped against a raw place inside me.
“That’s...” She swallows. “Thank you. For saying that.”
I grunt in response. The silence that follows is heavier than before, weighted with something I don’t want to name.
Sierra shifts in her seat. When she speaks again, her voice is lighter. Forcibly cheerful, the way people get when a conversation cuts too close to bone.
“So. Your turn. Tell me about yourself. If my family is going to believe we’re madly in love, I should probably know more than your name and your apparent vendetta against my ex.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything. Anything. Start with the basics. Job, family, hobbies.”
“You already know my job.”
“The mafia thing, yes.” She rolls her eyes. Gutsy. “But that can’t be all you do.”
I consider not answering. Keeping the walls up where they belong. But she’s right. If we’re going to sell this, she needs something to work with.
“I fix up old motorcycles,” I reply. “Buy them broken, rebuild them, sell them.”
Her face lights up. “Really? That’s actually cool. Do you enjoy it?”
“It keeps my hands busy.”
“And your family?”
“Just my ma.”
“Are you close?”
I glance at her. She’s watching me with those big brown eyes, genuinely curious. Like she actually gives a shit about the answer.
“Yeah,” I say. “She’s my ma.”
“That’s sweet.” The smile that crosses her face is real this time. Warm. “Are you secretly a big softie, Matteo?”
I almost laugh. Almost. “Don’t be ridiculous, Sunshine.” The nickname comes out with a sarcastic bite.
“Sunshine?”
“You’re annoyingly optimistic.”
“And you’re annoyingly grumpy. I think we’re even.”
We pull into the parking lot of the jewelry store. I kill the engine and look at her.
“Pick whatever you want. Price doesn’t matter.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “You can’t be serious.”
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
She studies my face for a moment. Whatever she sees there makes her nod slowly. “Okay. But for the record, I’m not the kind of girl who needs a huge diamond to be happy.”
“Noted.”
The store is empty when we walk in. A salesman in a blue blazer spots us immediately, his smile brightening when he takes in Sierra’s finger, bare and waiting. Then his gaze shifts to me, and the smile flickers. People always react that way. I’m used to it.
“We’d like to see engagement rings,” Sierra says.
The guy’s smile snaps back into place. “Of course. Right this way.”
I follow her to the case and stand close enough to smell that vanilla scent again. Close enough to see the way her breath catches when she looks at the rings spread out on velvet.
“They’re beautiful,” she murmurs.
The salesman starts his pitch, pulling out the biggest diamonds first. Flashy and expensive. But Sierra’s not looking at those. Her eyes keep drifting to the smaller rings, the ones with character instead of just carats.
“Can I see that one?” She points to a pear-shaped diamond on a white gold band. Mid-range price. Nothing ostentatious.
The salesman hands it over, barely hiding his disappointment.
Sierra slides it onto her finger, and her whole face changes.
Softer. Vulnerable. Her lips part, and she turns her hand in the light, watching the diamond catch and throw sparks. For a second, she looks like a woman who’s actually getting engaged. Actually in love. Actually about to start a life with someone who matters.
Something twists in my gut.
I imagine her walking toward me in white. That same expression on her face. That same softness. Except it would be real. She’d be looking at me like I was the man she wanted, not the man she made a deal with.
I catch myself lingering on that image longer than I should.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I shove the thought down hard. This isn’t real. It’s a trap. A means to an end. Viktor’s face when he sees this ring on her finger is the only thing that matters.
“This is it,” Sierra says, her voice barely above a whisper. “This is the one.”
I hand over my card before the salesman can open his mouth about upgrades. Sierra’s not paying attention anyway. She’s holding her hand up to the light, watching the diamond catch and throw rainbows across her skin.
“Do you like it?” she asks.
I should say something. Anything.
“Yeah.”
Real smooth.
But there’s this tight and uncomfortable feeling behind my ribs. Satisfaction, maybe. Because she looks happy. Because I put that expression on her face, even if it’s built on a lie.
The salesman reaches for the ring. “I’ll clean this for you before you go.”
Sierra hands it over reluctantly. I glance at the wedding bands while we wait.
Never worn jewelry in my life. Never planned to.
But married men wear rings, so I choose a black tungsten band for myself, something simple that won’t get in the way when I need to use my hands for less civilized purposes.
When the salesman returns with the ring in its box, Sierra turns to me with her hand out, palm down, fingers spread.
Waiting for me to put it on her?
I pull the ring from the box and move to slide it on her at the same time she flips her hand over to take the ring from me.
Our fingers tangle. The ring nearly drops. I catch it at the last second, my hand closing around hers in the process.
Her skin is warm. Soft. Her pulse jumps against my palm.
For a heartbeat, neither of us moves.
Then she laughs. That real laugh, the one I heard a hint of before. It spills out of her like light, bright and unexpected, and something cracks loose behind my ribs. I ignore it.
“Well, that was smooth,” she’s still laughing. “Very romantic. Viktor will definitely believe we’re in love after that display.”
“Shut up.”
But I’m fighting back a smile.
I take her hand properly this time. Slide the ring onto her finger slowly. It fits perfectly, settling into place like it belongs there.
Her laughter fades, but the smile stays. It softens her whole face, makes her eyes warm and golden.
Christ, she’s pretty.
“I guess we’re really doing this,” she says softly. “Huh.”
I hold up the boxes with our wedding bands. “Seems like it.”
She pulls out her phone, all business now. “Okay. If we want to piss Viktor off, we need to announce this properly. Social media. He watches my accounts like a creep.”
“Good. Let him see.”
“Come here.” She positions herself in front of me, holding her phone out with her right hand. Her left goes up, the ring prominently displayed. “You need to be in the shot. Bend down.”
I lean in close. Her hair brushes my jaw. That vanilla scent wraps around me again, mixed with something warmer underneath. Something that’s just her.
“Smile,” she instructs.
“I don’t smile.”
“Matteo.”
“Fine.”
I think about Viktor’s face when he sees this photo. The rage. The jealousy. The realization that he lost. That he’s going to keep losing.
The smile comes easily.
She takes a few shots, checking each one with a critical eye. “These are good. One more, though. For the really convincing sell.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“A cheek kiss. Makes it look more intimate.”
She says it casually, like it’s nothing. Like pressing my mouth against her skin is just another checkmark on the to-do list.
I turn my head to kiss her cheek.
She turns at the same time.
The kiss is an accident. A split-second mistake. But the moment our mouths touch, the world narrows to nothing but the heat of her breath, the softness of her lips, the way she freezes against me like she’s been struck by lightning.
It lasts maybe two seconds. Three at most.
It feels like a goddamn earthquake.
I pull back. She does too. Her eyes are wide, startled, her lips parted like she’s trying to catch her breath.
The phone is still in her hand. The camera must have caught it. That moment, that mistake.
I want to do that again.
The thought is dangerous. Stupid. Completely beside the point.
This is a business arrangement. A trap for my enemy. Nothing more.
But my lips are still tingling where they touched hers, and Sierra is staring at me like she felt it too, whatever the fuck that was, and for the first time in longer than I can remember, I have no idea what to do next.
“That should work,” she says. Her voice is slightly breathless. She’s not looking at me. “For the photo. That should definitely work.”
“Yeah.”
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and looks at the picture. Her expression shifts, something vulnerable flickering across her face before she schools it into neutrality.
“We look good together,” she says quietly. “Convincing.”
I look at the photo over her shoulder.
We do look good together. Her face is soft, surprised. My hand is cupping her jaw, though I don’t remember putting it there. And our lips are pressed together like we’ve done this a thousand times before.
Like we mean it.
I step back. “Post it.”
She nods and starts typing a caption. Her fingers are trembling.
I shove my hands in my pockets and turn toward the door. I need air. Space. Distance from the smell of vanilla and the ghost of her mouth on mine.
“Ready?” I ask without looking back.
“Ready.”
We walk out of the jewelry store together. I can still taste her lip gloss.
I start the truck. She stares out the window, twisting the ring around her finger.
Neither of us mentions the kiss.