Chapter 11 #2
I hated how often my mind wandered back there – back to him.
Two goddamn months of replaying moments I should have forgotten, twisting them into things they weren’t, imagining conversations we never had.
It was pathetic, and worse, it was dangerous.
I told myself I hated him, that I wanted nothing to do with him.
And maybe I did. Maybe hatred was the only thing keeping me sane.
But Vegas had been… Different.
Too sharp, too close, too charged to shake off.
Every look, every word between us had landed like a spark on dry kindling, and I’d been burning ever since.
I didn’t want it, didn’t invite it, but it was lodged under my skin, refusing to leave.
And now, standing there with the city blazing beneath me and champagne still sweet on my tongue, all I could think was how badly I wanted him not to matter – how badly I was failing.
Whatever. It didn’t matter. I’d had two whole months to cool down, to shake him off, and I wasn’t about to backslide now. Matteo wasn’t under my skin anymore, not the way he had been in Vegas. That night had just been… A lapse in judgment. A moment of weakness I refused to repeat.
I didn’t want him on top of me. Not anymore.
The thought was laughable, actually – me craving the very man I despised. It had been heat and adrenaline, nothing else, a trick my body played on me in the worst possible moment. And I was smarter than that.
Matteo Di’Ablo was the last man on Earth I’d ever want, and if my chest still ached at the thought of him… That was just my hate burning.
“Happy New Year, princesa.”
My heart skipped a beat.
I didn’t need to turn around to know who the deep, smooth voice belonged to.
Still, I glanced over my shoulder. My gaze hit the broad expanse of his chest first – black dress shirt, the top buttons undone, the material pulled taut over muscle. Then higher, to where his light brown eyes caught the glow of the chandeliers, warm like honey poured over fire.
Matteo smiled down at me. “Missed me?”
I rolled my eyes before he could catch the heat rising in my cheeks. “Ugh, it’s you.”
He chuckled, low and amused, as though my irritation was a private joke only he could enjoy. “Don’t sound so excited. You were staring out at the city like you were wishing on a star. Admit it, you were waiting for me.”
“I was not.” I straightened, forcing composure into my voice. “I was enjoying the skyline. Something you wouldn’t understand.”
“Mm.” He leaned in slightly, his cologne – clean smoke and sage – curling around me. “You’re right. I don’t understand staring at the city when there are better views in the room.”
A laugh escaped me. “You’re crazy.”
“Guilty,” he murmured, his smirk tugging wider. He searched my face then, softer now, his voice dipping lower so only I could hear. “You looked a little… Lost, princesa. Tell me I’m wrong.”
I met his gaze, sharp and unyielding, even as something in my chest twisted. “You are wrong.”
Matteo tilted his head, studying me like I was a puzzle he fully intended to solve. The corner of his mouth lifted, slow, deliberate. “If you say so, Donna.”
I crossed my arms, trying to hold onto my composure. “I thought you were in Miami.”
“I was.” He shrugged, casual, though there was something calculated in the way his eyes stayed locked on mine. “But some things are worth flying back for.”
My heart stuttered. “The party?”
His face was somber, a dangerous gleam in his whiskey eyes. “Something like that.”
Heat crept up the back of my neck. I looked away, pretending to study the skyline, but I could feel his gaze on me, hot, steady, almost physical.
“You know…” He said softly, stepping just a little closer, his voice warm velvet in the dim of the party. “For someone who claims not to care, you blush every time I speak.”
I snapped my eyes back to him, glare sharp, though my pulse betrayed me. “I do not.”
His brows lifted, mock-innocent. “No?” He leaned down slightly, close enough that his breath brushed my cheek, frowning in that charming way of his. “Then what’s that color in your face, Donna? Must be the champagne. But… You hate champagne.”
I swallowed hard, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. I breathed out, “You’re crazy.”
“You’ve already said that. And yet…” He stepped closer, I stepped back, and before I knew it, my back was pressed against the glass.
The silence hang, the hum of the party filling the space between us, the heat of his body radiating toward mine.
“Every time you run, Francesca… You end up right here. With me.”
I opened my mouth – ready to argue, ready to deny – but the words didn’t come. Not with him standing that close. Not with the air between us burning.
Matteo smirked, like he’d won without needing to hear me say it. Then, with infuriating calm, he stepped back, leaving the space suddenly too cool, too empty.
His gaze dropped to my body. “Cold?”
“Hm?” I looked down too, only to realize my skin had goosebumps all over my arms. I felt the panic explode in my chest. “I’m okay.”
“You sure? I could give you my jacket–”
Without another word, I walked away, past him and headed to my friends who were dancing. Kali was in front of Natalia, both laughing as she danced back into her, while Maria flipped her hair with a laugh, her hips moving to the beat of the music.
Maria raised a brow at me through her smile as I joined their circle and the two of us began dancing together. “Matteo not leaving you alone, again, huh?”
I rolled my eyes, pretending like I couldn’t care less. In reality, I cared – but only a little bit. “We barely know each other.”
She smiled, like she knew something I didn’t. “Alright.”
And with that, she took my hands and we fell into the atmosphere, my hips moving to the booming music.
But when I glanced back over my shoulder, my hair a half-transparent armor, Matteo’s eyes were already searching deep into my own.
After I pretended not to feel Matteo’s eyes on me the entire night and continued having fun with my friends, the inevitable happened.
Half an hour before midnight, he found me again – alone, again – at the open bar. Minutes flew by with our usual banter and insult-filled flirting, and I almost let myself genuinely enjoy his company. That was, of course, until I came back to my senses – thanks to some girl I didn’t even know.
Some sister or cousin or friend of one of the Cartel’s soldiers walked up right to Matteo – in the middle of our conversation, by the way – and placed her hand on his shoulder. And what did he do? He looked away from me and turned his attention to her.
The spell he’d had me under all night broke right then and there, and while he was sooo busy talking with his new girlfriend, I got the hell out of there.
While all of my friends were wrapped around their special someone, I stood in the center of the party, enjoying the music and people watching.
I wasn’t shy by any means – my reputation as life of the party and reckless decisions still followed me around – but for some reason, tonight felt different.
This new year I was stepping into… Felt different.
It wasn’t long before the Devil found me again. I stiffened at the sound of his voice, smooth and deep as smoke curling into my ear.
“You walked away again.”
God, this man just didn’t give up.
“I needed space,” Turning, I met his gaze, sharp light-brown eyes that had already burned holes through my composure all night. “From you being on top of me and suffocating me all evening.”
Matteo’s smirk spread slow, dangerous, and far too confident. He leaned closer, voice dipping low enough that I swore I felt it hum against my skin. “Princesa, don’t tempt me. You’d love getting suffocated by my weight.”
Heat shot up my neck, and I nearly choked on my air. I snapped my eyes back to him, furious that his words could ignite me so quickly. “You’re crude.”
“But right,” he murmured, utterly unbothered, his gaze never leaving mine.
I turned away, pretending to study the dance floor, my jaw tight. Couples swayed to the music, bodies close, laughter spilling around us.
“Ah, now I see. You’re mad.” Matteo said softly, the teasing in his tone undeniable.
“I am not mad.”
“No? Then why’d you run off the second that woman touched me?”
“Because you were boring me.”
“Boring you?” His laugh was low, rich. “You’re jealous, Donna.”
I faced him again, glaring. “I am Francesca DeMone. I do not get jealous.”
“Then why is your face red right now?”
I exhaled sharply, digging my finger into his chest a little harder than necessary. “You really think every woman falls at your feet, don’t you?”
He leaned in just close enough that I caught the faintest whiff of his cologne – something dark that clung to him like sin itself. “Don’t really care about every woman. Just the one standing in front of me.”
My heart betrayed me, thudding so loud I swore he could hear it.
The music swelled behind us, the kind of bass that vibrated through the floorboards, but the only sound I really heard was his voice – steady, low, and maddening.
“I should clarify something,” Matteo said, his eyes holding mine like he refused to let me slip away again. “That woman earlier – I turned around on instinct. I barely spoke to her.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Would you rather I ignored her?”
“No. That would’ve been disrespectful.”
“Hm.” He leaned closer now, his broad frame cutting into my space like he owned it. “I didn’t talk to her more than was necessary.”
My suspicion narrowed my gaze. “What did she want, anyways?”
His mouth curved slowly, like he enjoyed dangling the answer in front of me. “To go home with me.”
I let out a sharp scoff, rolling my eyes.
I turned, ready to storm off, my heels already striking against the polished floor.
But before I could take more than a step, his hand wrapped firmly around mine, pulling me back.
The touch was hot, grounding, and far too steady for how quickly my pulse spiked.
“I made it clear I wasn’t interested,” he said, voice low, close enough to curl around me.
“I couldn’t care less about who you do or don’t fuck, Matteo.”
His grip tightened – not enough to hurt, but enough to make me very aware of his strength. His eyes burned down into mine, honey-gold with that glint of amusement I wanted to slap off his face.
“See,” Matteo murmured, “But I think you do care, Francesca.”
My throat tightened, heat flaring in my cheeks as the noise of the party seemed to dim around us. For a moment, it was just his hand on mine, his gaze like fire, and the dangerous truth in his words pressing against me like a weight I couldn’t shake.
The chant started somewhere near the dance floor, voices rising above the music, spilling like champagne bubbles into the air.
“Ten… Nine… Eight…”
Around us, the energy shifted – couples pressing closer, friends laughing and clinking glasses. The entire penthouse pulsed with the countdown, but Matteo and I… we didn’t move.
It felt like we were suspended in a separate pocket of time, the noise around us muffled, the crowd blurred. His hand was still around mine, warm, grounding, impossible to ignore.
“Seven… Six…”
I forced my eyes to cool. But my thoughts betrayed me, unspooling in dangerous directions.
What would it be like – to kiss him at midnight? To feel those smooth, maddening lips on mine, just once?
“Three… Two…”
Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I quickly turned my face away, pretending to study the fireworks already beginning to spark faintly in the distance.
“One… Happy New Year!”
The room erupted in cheers, glasses clashing. Everywhere I looked, people were kissing, hugging, pulling each other close. And still, Matteo didn’t let go of me.
I turned back just as he leaned in.
His lips brushed my cheekbone, close to my temple, soft as a feather, the faintest ghost of a kiss that somehow seared hotter than fire. My breath caught, and when he pulled back – it was only just. His face hovered near mine, the warm timbre of his breath threading into the air between us.
Before I could stop myself, I turned fully toward him.
And suddenly, we were inches apart.
His eyes locked with mine, molten honey in the glow of crystal chandeliers, before they dipped – slow, deliberate – down to my lips. I felt my own gaze betray me, sliding to the curve of his mouth, the distance between us a live wire begging to be crossed.
We leaned in – closer, closer – my heart thundering in my chest like it wanted to leap into his hands. And then –
Pop!
A champagne cork exploded somewhere in the room, followed by a roar of laughter and applause. The sound snapped me back, like ice water over fire.
I blinked, stumbled a half step back, my pulse wild and breath unsteady.
Matteo’s smirk was subtle, knowing, his eyes still lingering on me like he could read every thought I was trying desperately to bury.
Before I embarrassed myself further, I walked away, finding the safety of my oblivious friends.
I managed to outrun Matteo for the rest of the party. When I was about to say my goodbye’s, however, my eyes met his again, from across the party. And then he was making his way toward me through the crowd.
So, like a criminal on the run, I turned around and left the party without saying goodbye or thanking Maria and Zach for having me.
The minute I made it downstairs, I was met with both of my brothers. Who let me know we were crushing Trev and Nat’s getaway wedding.
Because God forbid anyone in this group tried to get a little privacy.