Chapter 5
Chapter Five
MATTEO
B y two o’clock in the morning, Chastity was asleep on my office couch.
Honestly, I was impressed she’d made it that long.
For a while, after I’d had her father unceremoniously thrown to the curb, she didn’t do much but silently sit on the edge of the cushions, spine straight and eyes glazed, staring across the room as I went about the business of running the club. But that didn’t last long.
After an hour or so, the drink and exhaustion finally caught up with her, and her eyes and shoulders both started sliding down.
Once she was out, I went over to the couch just long enough to stretch her out into a more comfortable position. And, even though the temperature in my office was perfectly comfortable, I still took off my coat and slipped it over her like a blanket.
Even in sleep, she was grateful. Her fingers curled into the collar as she unconsciously tucked the material more fully around her. She was small enough that the jacket practically swallowed her up, reaching all the way down to her knees.
She wasn’t the first girl who had passed out on my office couch after a long night. Not even close. But she was the first I had a hard time turning away from.
But eventually, I had to.
A beautiful woman had never stopped me from working before, and it wouldn’t stop me now—even if I had to repeat that mantra a couple of times before I finally managed to pull myself away.
But even as I spent the next few hours working through the mound of paperwork piled on my desk, I kept my eye on her.
I didn’t need to.
Exhausted and filled with champagne, she stayed sound asleep as the usual parade of employees came in and out of my office all night—the floor manager with the receipts for the night, the chef with orders for me to approve, Marcus with his final security report. If any of the staff was surprised to find a nun passed out in the corner of my office, they were well-trained enough to keep it to themselves.
They knew better than to expect an explanation.
No one had to explain themselves at La Sera. That was the whole idea behind the club. This was supposed to be the one place in New York where there were no cameras, no microphones, and no limits. Where whatever you wanted, whatever deviant fantasies lurked in the dark corners of your mind could come true.
For a price, of course.
I paused, looking up from the books long enough to wonder how expensive tonight’s liaison would turn out to be.
For all his talk, I wasn’t afraid of Michael Costa.
Tensions between the Costas and D’Angelos had always been high, even back when my father was alive. Still, they’d never boiled over into an all-out war. Mainly because, for all their reckless faults, the Costas were smart enough to know that going head-to-head with the D’Angelos was a battle they couldn’t win.
Our family was just too strong. Too well connected. Too powerful.
Bringing down a single D’Angelo meant certain death to an entire family.
That philosophy was how my father, and his father before him, had grown their empire. And now, it was how my brothers and I kept their legacy secure.
And while it was true that I didn’t have the same violent and bloody reputation as my brothers, Michael Costa would be a fool to think that meant I wasn’t dangerous. It only meant that I was better at keeping my secrets buried.
The first streaks of dawn were just starting to break through the shadows of night when the last customer walked out the club door. I left the floor manager to lock up and went to rouse Chastity.
But for some reason, I couldn’t do it.
There was something about her peaceful expression. The way, even hours later, she was still clinging to my jacket. It didn’t seem right to wake her up.
So instead, I slid one arm under her neck and the other under her knees and lifted her up, cradling her against my chest. She stirred at the motion, but only for a moment. Half a second later, she nestled her head against my shoulder and tucked herself even deeper into my embrace.
Damn, she was light, I thought as I carried her out of my office and down into the back lot where my Jaguar was parked. She must have had more champagne than I realized because her eyelids didn’t so much as flicker once during the ride from lower Manhattan to the D’Angelo house on 91st Street.
She was still dozing away in my arms when, a while later, I opened my back door and stepped into the kitchen.
“ Buongiorno , Mr. Matteo,” a cheerful voice greeted me.
Letizia, our housekeeper, was already up and working on breakfast. Bent over a stove burbling with the scent of cinnamon and honey, her back was still to me when I started moving past her.
“Good morning,” I said in a half-whisper, not wanting to wake Chastity.
“You’re home late today,” Letizia noted, sounding far more like the motherly figure she’d become to my brothers and me over the years than a domestic servant. “It must have been quite the night at the club. Why don’t you have a seat, and I’ll get you— Santa Madre ! What have you done?”
So much for staying quiet.
The moment Letizia turned around and spotted Sister Chastity in her full habit, laying loose and languid in my arms, her voice echoed off the stone walls.
Chastity’s eyes flew open. Startled awake and confused by strange, new surroundings, her impulse was to jump out of my arms, and I had to grip her even tighter, pressing her body fully against mine to keep her from tumbling to the floor.
“What’s happening?” she shouted, frantic as she struggled in my grasp.
“It’s okay, Chastity,” I purred softly against her ear, trying to reassure her. “You just fell asleep. Everything is fine.”
Judging by the looks both women in the room were shooting at me—one panicked and the other seriously disappointed—neither one of them believed that.
“Where am I?” Chastity demanded, her eyes flashing desperately around in the unfamiliar room.
“My home.”
Letizia arched a single eyebrow. “And why exactly were you trying to sneak an unconscious nun into this house at dawn?”
“I wasn’t sneaking . I was being quiet, so I wouldn’t wake her up,” I said. Even though I technically didn’t owe the older woman any explanation, life in this house always ran smoother when Letizia was happy. “And besides, she isn’t really a nun.”
The older woman’s face paled slightly as her mouth fell open.
“Oh, Matteo.” She shook her head sadly. “That’s so much worse. It’s bad enough that you spend your time with these working girls, but now you’ve started bringing them home dressed up in blasphemous costumes?”
“It is not a costume,” Chastity protested, wriggling and writhing in my arm so hard I finally lowered her down to the floor. “I might not be a nun, but I am a postulant. I just haven’t taken my full vows…yet.”
“Oh.” Letizia sounded almost apologetic as she looked Chastity up and down with new eyes. “But if that’s true, what in the world are you doing coming home with Mr. Matteo at five in the morning.”
“There was an incident at the club,” I answered for her. “Sister Chastity here needed protection, and?—”
“Sister Theresa ,” Chastity corrected.
Letizia’s skeptical brow arched right back up at that. “You don’t even know her name, Matteo?”
“I do,” I answered, struggling to keep my temper when all I wanted to do was skip all these questions and head into the peaceful quiet of my bedroom. “It’s Chastity. It will only change to Theresa if she takes her final vows.”
“ When I take my final vows,” she broke in, shooting me a scowl. “Not if. I have every intention of taking them in two weeks.”
Letizia’s sharp-eyed gaze shot back and forth between us. “And you didn’t help her back to her convent because…?”
She balled her hands into fists, resting them on her hips as she impatiently waited for my answer.
“Because…the situation is complicated.”
It was the best I could come up with on the spot. Maybe after a little rest and a few shots of espresso, I could come up with a more diplomatic answer—one that would satisfy Letizia and spare Chastity’s pride, but right now, that simply wasn’t happening.
“ Complicated ? Now, that might be the first honest word you’ve spoken since walking in,” Letizia said with a laugh before turning her attention back to the stove. “I don’t know if you two are lying to me or yourselves, but if you know what’s good for you, you’ll both spend some time begging the Lord’s forgiveness for whatever mess you’ve gotten yourself into.”
“She’s right,” Chastity said the moment we were out of the kitchen doors. “I shouldn’t be here.”
“Don’t worry about Letizia,” I shook my head as I led her toward the staircase. “She’s worked in this house since before I was born. She’s like family, and you know how family can be—never knowing when to mind their business.”
“But she has a point,” Chastity said, falling into step behind me as we climbed the stairs. “It’s not right for me to be alone with you.”
“We’re not alone,” I said. “Letizia is down in the kitchen, and my brother and his wife are in their apartments on the fourth floor.”
Apparently, she didn’t find three other people in a sprawling mansion sufficient supervision. Her steady pace began to falter. “Still, I think it would be better if you took me to Grand Central Station instead.”
“Why in hell would I do that?”
“So I could catch the train back to my convent upstate.”
“You told me you didn’t want to go back there.”
“All I said was that I didn’t want to be exiled to Rome.”
“We both knew what you meant.”
I looked back over my shoulder as I reached the third-floor landing and found her stalled a few steps down. Her fingers were gripped tight around the polished wood banister, and her golden gaze was wide and wary.
“What is that supposed to mean?” she asked, her voice trembling like it had in my office.
As if she didn’t know. As if she’d somehow forgotten how deeply she’d kissed me when we were alone. How she’d explored my body with her hands and mouth.
Those weren’t the actions of a woman who was dying to get back to a life of prayer and solitude.
“Come upstairs,” I told her. “We can talk about this in the privacy of my room.”
“Your room?” Her face paled a little as her eyes flashed toward the door at my side. “Your bed room?”
“Yes,” I said with a nod.
“Couldn’t we talk somewhere else?”
“We could ,” I said. “The whole third floor is mine, and the first and second floors are open to family members. But right now, I want to be in my bedroom.”
She teased her lower lip with her teeth nervously before finally asking, “Why?”
“Because it’s five o’clock in the morning, and I’ve been working all night.”
“Oh.” Her grip on the handrail loosened at the mundane answer, and she did her best to show a sense of relief, but I caught the little lines of disappointment that bit into the skin next to her eyes. “I guess that makes sense. You’re tired.”
“Among other things,” I said, mostly to watch the fire flash in her eyes again. “But I promise not to throw you down on my bed, rip off all of your clothes, and have my wicked way with you. Not unless you beg.”
“I would never,” she swore.
Oh, really ? We’d see about that.
But apparently, my word was still good enough for her to reluctantly make her way up the rest of the stairs and follow me through the door. The second it closed, I slid the lock home and turned to her.
“And now that we’re alone,” I said, lowering my voice. “It’s time for you to tell me what you really want.”