Chapter 2 Nicola #3
The voice cut through the noise, smooth and familiar, slipping into the tight little bubble Nathaniel had cornered me in. Normally, I’d roll my eyes, slap his hand off my waist, and mutter a scathing ‘as if.’
But right now? Right now I could’ve kissed Matteo DeLuca for his timing.
“Well—” Nathaniel started, tone poised to pivot into whatever smug line he’d been rehearsing.
“She’s the type of woman men fight over.” Matteo’s smirk was all teeth as he tugged me closer. My hip collided with his, and I did my best to ignore the electric buzz ricocheting through me at the contact. Every nerve firing like I’d stuck my finger in a socket.
“You must be Nathaniel,” Matteo said, extending a hand like they were old pals. His skin was tanned, rings glinting on his pointer and pinky, a woven bracelet resting against the expensive weight of his watch. Casual but calculated. “I should really be thanking you, my man.”
Nathaniel blinked, thrown, but took his hand anyway.
“For letting someone like her go.” Matteo’s grin widened, dimples flashing like camera-ready weapons. “Seriously. Massive fuck up. But lucky me, right, Baby?”
Baby. My heart stuttered at the word.
His gaze swung to me then, pinning me in place. I could practically feel the heat of it against my skin.
Before I could process—before my brain could catch up to my body—he was already steering me away, hand firm at my back.
“Well, we better be going,” Matteo tossed over his shoulder. “Such a displeasure to see you.”
And just like that, Matteo guided us away.
I let myself be led away, half in a daze, unsure if any of that had actually happened or if the vodka sodas were finally catching up to me. Because if I was hallucinating, damn—my subconscious had a mean flair for drama.
“Did you say displeasure?” I asked once Matteo had guided us back to the bar and ordered two fresh drinks.
“Yup.” He popped the P like it was a performance, then took a slow sip. Sliding the second glass across the counter to me, he added, “Alcohol helps with the aftereffects of seeing a shitty ex. Trust me.”
“Oh, you have experience in this department?” I arched my brow.
I’d never once seen Matteo in anything resembling a serious relationship.
Week-long flings, maybe a couple of weeks if someone was lucky, but that was the extent of it.
Matteo was a flirt, a man who flashed those dimples and got whatever he wanted. Infuriating didn’t even cover it.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” I was met with a taunting spirk, grading on my nerves..
“Yes. That’s why I asked,” I deadpanned before huffing into my glass. “Also, Baby? Really?”
“Thought it was a nice touch. Not your thing? Maybe Darling. My love. Sweetness. Oh, I know. My Duchess.”
“Do you have a fucking off switch?” I glared, but he only leaned in farther.
“Want to search for one?” His dimple cut deep as the chaos glinted bright in his eyes.
“You’re the worst.”
“Hmm,” he hummed, eyes never leaving mine. “Keep being mean to me. I fucking love it.”
“I loathe you.” The words slid out sharp, my voice low as I pushed closer to him without realizing.
The alcohol hummed in my veins, hot and restless, and judging by the flush at his throat, it was doing the same to him.
I was drawn to Matteo like a moth to a flame.
I should walk away. I should really walk away.
“Keep going, Baby.” His voice rasped low, rough, scratching over my skin like static.
“Fuck off,” I muttered and turned on my heel, walking away before he could see what that voice actually did to me.
Of course, he followed like a persistent dog. “Okay, okay, sorry. I’ll lay off.” The words tumbled out, quick and unconvincing.
I stopped and turned, catching him too close.
Matteo’s cologne was soft and warm, and it wrapped around me.
I could see the flecks of gold in the center of his irises, distracting, irritating, dangerous.
His smile had slipped into something softer.
I was gravitating to his light again, something low in my stomach humming at me.
His lips looked soft, stretching into a thin line, eyebrows scrunching an imperceptible amount.
But it didn’t get past my visual analysis of him.
“He really got to you?” His voice was quiet now, annoyingly gentle, cutting right through the shield of my annoyance and landing straight in the place I didn’t want him to see.
The perceptive bastard.
“It’s fine.” I waved it off and took a long swig of my drink.
The icy burn slid down my throat, instantly making me feel better.
Healthy coping mechanism? Absolutely not.
But that was a problem for my therapist, not this drunk version of myself that felt like her skin was flushed and hot, and focusing too hard on the beautiful man in front of me.
“If there’s one thing I’ve learned from having a sister,” Matteo said, giving me a pointed look, “it’s that ‘I’m fine’ actually means you’re one thousand percent not fine.”
“I am fine. Just great, actually.”
“Hey…” He reached out, eyes soft again—
“Nic!” His sister swooped in, tipsy and glowing, breaking the moment. “This event is stunning. Literally perfect. I made Alexander bid on the yacht!” She dissolved into a giggle as Alexander steadied her from behind, his hand at her elbow, watching her with an indulgent glint in his eye.
“We should go check the auction table, see what the highest bids are!” Lucia announced, grabbing my hand before I could respond.
“Your timing is impeccable,” I told her as she tugged me away.
“Saving you from my brother is a full-time job at this point,” she laughed, then tilted her head. “So…did you see Nathaniel yet?”
“Yeah. He came over and talked to me.”
Her gasp was scandalized. “No!”
“Yes. But your brother kind of swooped in and saved me.”
“Yay!” she squealed.
“How drunk are you?” I whispered, leaning closer.
“Drunk. Definitely drunk. You?”
“Getting there, but another won’t hurt.”
We burst into laughter. A nearby table turned to look, and we both straightened immediately, smoothing our faces into faux composure as we tried to keep walking without cracking up again.
“Ooooh!” Lucia waved me over to a clipboard. “A million on this one!”
“Check the original Bayani painting!” I said, glancing over the cards. I heard Lucia curse under her breath.
“Over six million for the highest bidder!”
“Really?” I gasped. I had pulled some major strings to get the owner to donate it to be auctioned off for the event.
Honestly, I’m still shocked she agreed to it, but it turned out the ninety-year-old Scottish woman had a soft spot for charity work and had no children to hand down the painting to.
She herself had been friendly with Bayani himself.
The painting was made for her as a gift when they were young, long before his art took off, making it rarer and sought after.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the silent auction winners will be announced in ten minutes. Please grab your drinks and make your way to the tables,” A foundation member announced over the microphone at the front of the stage.
I steadied myself, sobering as much as possible.
Lucia and I linked arms, walking together in a bit of a haze to try and find our table.
I worked on the damn seating chart; this should not be so hard.
“Table is this way, Angel.” Alexander appeared with Matteo in tow. Lucia looked up to him with stars in her eyes, her arm leaving mine and going to him. I felt the small pang. While I was not one for physical touch, watching them was something else.
Matteo cleared his throat and held out his own arm.
I replied with a glare, taking a step forward on my own.
I didn’t need him. When I ignored his offer, I caught the tug of his lips in a poorly concealed smile.
He walked by my side instead, Alexander and Lucia falling behind us.
I’d sat us all at the same table with a few other drivers who’d attended as well.
Theo Bauer was sitting already with his date, a pretty redhead I didn’t recognize.
Anna was typing away on her phone. She looked particularly spectacular tonight in a deep blue satin gown.
As both Alexander’s and Matteo’s manager, she was probably the most impressive woman I had ever met—another surprising friend I had gained in my time on the road with the team.
An empty chair sat next to her, which was meant to be her space for a date,though I couldn’t remember if she RSVP’d for one.
“Hey, mate,” Alexander greeted Theo. Lucia bounded over to introduce herself to his date. They easily slipped into conversation as I slid into the open chair next to Anna.
“You look stunning.” I rested my head on my hand.
“I better, I’m wearing a contraption under this thing, and I cannot breathe.”
“Who’s…” I looked at the name card occupying the seat I was sitting in. “Dante?” Anna grimaced. “No!” I whispered in shock. Not the Dante. The one who was some tech wiz and helped out Alexander, and who Anna hated with pure fiery vengeance.
“That would be me,” a deep voice interrupted. I looked up slowly, hoping my mouth didn’t drop open as well. In front of me stood a wall of muscle, suited without a tie, the top buttons of his shirt undone, with dark tattoos that creeped up his neck on display.
“Oh good, you’re back,” Anna said, rolling her eyes, sarcasm dripping from every word.
“I don’t want to be here either, Barbie.”
Barbie? I mouthed at Anna who shook her head looking a mix between mortified and heavily annoyed.
“Buzzkill Barbie, technically,” Dante corrected, crossing his hands over his chest, still standing directly behind Anna looking like a damn tower.
“Seriously, how did Alexander get you here?” Matteo asked, sitting down in his assigned seat.
“Lost a bet,” Dante gruffed.
I looked wide eyed around the table. Alexander smirked and nodded confirming.
“And they won’t share what the bet was,” Lucia added.
“Who’s the buzzkill now?” Anna glared. Dante replied with a grunt. A literal grunt. I moved over, giving him back his seat next to Anna, though that didn’t seem like the best idea.
“Fancy seeing you here.” I realized I was now sitting next to Matteo. That was wrong. I spent hours on the seating charts, and I very specifically planned it to not sit next to him, actually. My head snapped toward him.
“Did you switch the cards?” I seethed. He just smiled, dimples revealing themselves, much to my dismay.
Before he could answer, the announcer was at the mic.
Each item was described, and the winner with the highest bid was announced.
The last would be the Bayani painting; it really was the prize of the night.
We’d already raised more than our goal. When I first saw the number on the board in our first planning meeting, I thought it was a stretch, but here we were.
“Last but certainly not least is the original Bayani painting, graciously donated by Madame Marie Steward.”
The crowd went silent, all waiting on pins and needles to hear the results. A few whispers here and there, surely hoping they would win the bid.
“Mr. Zaiella, congratulations, you are the highest bidder at six-point-five million pounds.” Heads whipped around the room, waiting to see who secured the painting, whispers snaking around. Dante cleared his throat and pushed his chair back. The room silenced. Anna stared, mouth agape.
What? I mouthed to Lucia across from me who shook her head in disbelief looking at Alexander who only smiled to his friend. Good God, how much was Wright paying this man for his work? He had to do something else too—over six million pounds, on a painting, on a whim. Holy shit.
Anna’s hand gripped Dante’s sleeve, an unreadable expression there. He reached out, patting her hand awkwardly.
“I like art,” he said gruffly, getting up and walking to the stage to shake the announcer’s hand.
“So Dante is a millionaire…” Lucia broke the silence.
“I’d say billion,” Alexander cut in, “by now anyways.”
“What—” Anna was slack jawed. “I need a damn raise.”
“Sure, send me what you want.” Alexander shrugged. Lucia looked to me, to Anna, to her brother, to the man sitting next to her.
“So, working for you is not his main job?”
“Uh, no,” Alexander replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Huh.