Chapter 6
Chapter Six
CHASTITY
D espite my best intentions, I kept finding myself in locked rooms alone with Matteo D’Angelo. If I were the kind of person who put any stock in Freudian psychology, I would worry it was a subconscious desire.
Unfortunately, there was nothing sub conscious about my desire for the man. That was the problem. I was always fully aware of my feelings for him. They were always front and center in my mind. There was no hiding from them.
Especially not now.
“All I want to do is sleep for a few more hours and then make my way to the train station,” I told him. “If I leave this afternoon, I could be back at the convent before sunset.”
“If they let you back in,” Matteo said, casually peeling off his jacket and carefully draping it over the back of a chair.
“What do you mean if ?” I asked, staring daggers into his back. “I’ll be taking my final vows with them in two weeks. They can’t throw me out now.”
“Normally, I’d agree with you.” He turned to face me as he spoke. “But I’m guessing your father is a major contributor to your convent’s order. I don’t doubt he’s on the phone with them now, giving them strict instructions not to take you back.”
“He wouldn’t do that,” I protested, violently shaking my head.
But deep down, I knew he would.
It was exactly the kind of petty display of wealth and power my father was known for. It wasn’t enough to simply teach someone a lesson if they made a mistake. He had to crush them and then gloat when they returned, crawling on hands and knees.
I was certain it was what he wanted from me.
But after I’d spent a whole night with Matteo D’Angelo, my father’s sense of honor would be in tatters. It didn’t matter that nothing had happened—not really. This time, I knew the usual begging and pleading wouldn’t be enough to soothe his wounded pride.
In his eyes, the sin I’d committed was too great. He’d have to come up with some new way to punish me.
I lifted toward the heavens. “Oh God, what am I going to do?”
But it wasn’t God who answered—it was the Devil himself.
“You’ll stay with me.”
He kept saying that as if it were a real answer. Like he was some kind of hero, ripped from the pages of a romantic-era novel, swooping in to save me from all my problems.
It was far too easy to think of him that way.
It was how I’d imagined him all those years ago. At school, he’d been the strong, silent type. With those dark eyes and brooding continence, it was easy to cast him as a gothic hero in my mind.
Or maybe an anti-hero would be more accurate.
A New York Heathcliff roaming the halls of our private catholic academy. Quietly standing in shadowy corners, a shock of near-black hair falling over his eyes.
Back then, I’d sneak glances when he wasn’t looking and try to guess what thoughts were swirling around behind that mysterious gaze. I’d daydream in class, making up fantasies where he would ride in and sweep me off my feet, carrying me away from my rigid, overbearing father and into a life filled with forbidden pleasures.
Sure, the thirteen year-old version of me would have been over the moon at the reality I now found myself in. It would’ve been a dream come true.
The twenty-four year-old me, on the other hand? She couldn’t help thinking she was trapped in a terrifying nightmare.
One that was bound to end with heartbreak and bloodshed.
My father had been right about one thing tonight. It was past time that I put away all these childish fantasies and started dealing with cold, hard reality.
“While I appreciate the offer,” I told him. “That’s not a sustainable solution.”
“Why not?” His eyes locked with mine even as his fingers moved over the buttons of his white dress shirt, undoing them one by one.
Dear Lord. Was he really planning on undressing right in front of me?
“Um…I…” Damn my drifting thoughts, but it was really hard to stay focused as his chest, tanned and tight, came back into view. “…Because you are a D’Angelo, and I am a Costa. That’s why.”
“What’s in a name?” The corner of his mouth twitched, showing just a hint of an amused smile. “A rose by any other?—”
“Stop it with the Shakespeare.”
“Not a fan?”
“Not of that play,” I answered honestly. “Besides, quoting from Romeo and Juliet is a terrible argument in this case. They both die in the end.”
Which was precisely the outcome I was trying to avoid.
“True,” he conceded, finally shrugging his shirt off his shoulders and standing bare-chested in front of me. “But I don’t plan on dying any time soon, and I’m guessing you don’t either.”
“You make it sound like we have a choice,” I snapped back. “Just bringing me into this house has put your whole family at risk.”
“You’re perfectly safe here,” he said as if it were some kind of indisputable fact.
“Why won’t you understand?” Frustration welled up inside me. Why was he refusing to see reason? “My father is a very powerful and dangerous man.”
“Not as powerful as the D’Angelos,” Matteo said. “And not as half as dangerous as me.”
God, it was tempting to believe him. Especially when his shoulders pulled back in pride, expanding his chest. A sight like that was enough to make me think he was every inch the superman he made himself out to be.
It also made it very hard to keep the thoughts in my head from spiraling off in a totally different direction. One that was a hell of a lot more tempting.
No , I chided myself. You need to give up this obsession. Not dive even deeper into it.
Maybe it would be easier if I turned away.
I shifted my gaze to the right—but found myself staring at several close-up black and white artistic photos of bodies entwined together in erotic embrace.
The left side of the room wasn’t any better. Not only were there more pictures, but Matteo’s bed as well—wide and inviting.
Apparently, there wasn’t any direction in this room that was safe to look.
“But even if you’re right,” I huffed in exasperation, finally casting my gaze toward the floor in defeat. “Why would you even want me here? You don’t know me. Not really. I’m nothing to you.”
“I wouldn’t say nothing .”
Even if I wasn’t looking at him, Matteo’s deep voice still wrapped around me, rumbling through me and stoking the fires deep within my core.
The exact same ones I was trying so desperately to stamp out.
“Oh please,” I groaned. “It was only a couple of kisses. I might be innocent, but I’m not naive. You can’t expect me to buy that a man who employs half the sex workers in Manhattan believes in love at first sight.”
“Who said anything about love ?” he asked with a laugh that was loud enough to cause me to lift my head. “But don’t sell yourself short. The emotion those couple of kisses sparked in me was powerful.”
“You’re talking about lust.”
A part of me hoped to shame him by naming the base urge so plainly, but I should have known the move would fail. The blaze burning behind his eyes only grew stronger.
“You felt it too,” he said, stepping closer. “Don’t deny it.”
He was right. It would be pointless to pretend otherwise.
“I’ll admit that I was weak and caved to temptation,” I said, lifting my chin and refusing to show shame. “But it won’t happen again.”
“Why not?”
I blinked. What did he mean? Wasn’t it obvious?
“Because I’m about to give my life over the church.”
He was close enough now that I had to crane my head back to keep looking him in the eye. “But is that what you want ?”
“Please stop asking me that,” I begged, shuffling back one step and then another. But I didn’t make it very far before my back flattened against the wall.
“Why?”
It was a simple question—one I could’ve answered a thousand ways.
I don’t owe you an explanation.
You’re not my father.
My private life is none of your business.
But I didn’t say any of that.
Maybe it was the pressure of his having his half-naked body so near or the fact that there was nowhere I could turn my head where I wasn’t bombarded with reminders of how I’d sprawled myself over him just hours before, but the truth tumbled out of my lips before I could stop it.
“Because I don’t know what I want,” I said in a rush.
“There it is.” Matteo gave a sigh. “The truth.”
“Everything was always chosen for me,” I explained. “From the moment I was born, other people decided what my life would be like. My opinion didn’t matter, so wanting anything was pointless.”
“But there had to be things you were curious about,” Matteo said, not giving me any space to breathe. “Things you desired.”
Yes, of course, there were.
I’d desired the hell out of him .
I’d wanted him from the moment I’d first spotted him in the halls of our strict catholic high school. Before I even fully knew everything that entailed. Before I’d realized just how wrong it was for me to have those kinds of feelings.
Naively, I’d believed that everyone understood that innocent kind of infatuation. But when I told my father about the butterflies that took flight in my stomach every time I caught sight of his rival’s second-born son, he drew back his hand and smacked me hard across the face.
“Lust is a mortal sin, girl ,” he’d shouted, loud enough to echo down the halls of our Brooklyn home. “ I forbid you to look at Matteo D’Angelo ever again. If I find out you’ve even thought about him, I’ll send you away from New York and not let you back until you’ve fully repented. ”
And that’s exactly what he’d done when he found that red bra my cousin had helped me pick out.
But those sinful thoughts had never gone away. Not completely. I’d just got better at hiding them.
Until now.
“How can you know that you’re truly called to a life of service and solitude unless you’ve had the chance to explore the other options?” he asked, his voice breaking the stranglehold that those dark memories had on me.
“You make it sound so simple.”
Not just simple but reasonable.
Up to this point, every doubt or concern I’d had was treated like some kind of damning heresy.
“That’s because it is,” Matteo said. “What would you say if I offered you a deal”
“What kind of deal?”
“You agree to stay here with me for two weeks,” he started.
“In this house?”
“In this bedroom .” The carnal fire in his eyes rose up again, leaving no doubt about what he meant. “For two weeks, you can explore every whim, every secret desire that pops into your head.”
Oh God.
Just the suggestion was enough to cause the floodgates of restraint in my mind to crack and burst. My mind drowned with lustful thoughts as one indecent scenario after the other came roaring out.
My chest tightened, and I had to push through the tension to breathe in enough air to speak. “A-And at the end of two weeks?”
“You can choose which life you prefer,” he answered. “A holy or an earthly one.”
“What happens if I choose to become a nun?”
“Then you take your final vows,” he answered without hesitation. “I’ll drive you to the convent myself.”
“But by then, it will be too late.” I shook my head. “Two weeks is long enough for my father to convince every convent in the country not to let me through their doors.”
Matteo cocked his head to the side. “Your father isn’t the only rich and powerful man in this city. Whatever he pays them to keep you out, I’ll double it to let you back in.”
I believed him…I just didn’t understand why he would bother.
“But why waste your money?” I asked. “What do you get out of this deal?”
“You.” His voice dropped down even lower. Reaching out, he traced the back of his fingers down the curve of my cheek in a feather-light touch that sent tingles racing all over my body. “I get two weeks with your lips and your hands and your body.”
I bit into my lower lip, praying for enough strength to answer and not simply melt into a puddle of desire at his feet.
“But you don’t need me to satisfy your lust,” I said. “You could have any woman in the city.”
“True,” he answered, honest enough not to deny it. “I don’t need you, Chastity, but God help me, I want you.”
Something told me God wasn’t in a rush to help either of us.
“Y-You do?” I asked, my voice shaking almost as hard as my body.
“Hell, yes,” he answered. “I want you right now—naked underneath me on my bed. I want to hear you panting my name as I teach you all the pleasures that have been kept from you. I want to feel your fingers scrape down my back as you experience heaven for the first time.”
“Matteo.” His name came out of me like a breathy prayer. “It’s hard to think straight when you talk like that.”
His laugh was deep and deliciously wicked. “You don’t need to think. All you need is to tell me you want the same thing.”
I’d never wanted anything more.
But my words were gone, swept up and carried out to sea in a current of desire. So, instead of saying it out loud, I did the next best thing.
I lifted myself up on tiptoes, threw my arms around his neck, and kissed him again.