Adriana

I woke up to the sound of rustling paper, the faint crinkle of bags being opened. My eyes fluttered open, and shame immediately washed over me.

Matteo was standing by the dresser, pulling out a piece of red lacey lingerie from one of the shopping bags. His large hand stretched it out, Matteo's eyes looked all over it, his mouth tugging into the faintest smirk.

I tugged the covers tighter against myself, realising I was in nothing but my panties and his shirt. My shorts were gone.

The sheets smelled of him, and I hated that I loved the way it always did. I brought the blanket to my nose, savouring it.

One thing I'd admit is that this man smelled heavenly

Matteo’s voice broke through my haze. “I got you a phone and an iPad.” His tone was casual, almost boyish, but I didn’t miss the weight behind it. “I figured you’d get bored or want to talk to your papa. Or Ruby.”

I murmured, “Thank you,” still clinging to my anger from the night before, even if my chest betrayed me with the faintest flutter.

He didn’t call me out on it. He only set the lingerie down, stepped toward me, and pressed a kiss to my hand, the heat of his mouth lingering longer than it should have.

“Dinner is in an hour. I made a reservation. Be ready.” And then he disappeared into the bathroom, steam already filling the air before the door shut.

The moment he was gone, I scrambled across the room. My heart raced as I lifted the sleek white box, an iPhone, the newest one. Next to it, an iPad was still wrapped in its packaging with a cute bow.

My stomach twisted with excitement, but I forced it down. I didn’t want him to think I was new to this life, even if I was, and he knew. I wanted to look like I belonged. Like, his world didn’t terrify me.

I set the gifts aside and dug through the bags of clothes. My fingers brushed against the pastel pink silk of a slip dress.

It was scandalous in its low neckline and the slit that climbed high up my thigh. It clung to my body nicely, hugging every curve, and I wore the matching thong sliding into place like a secret only he would ever see. I paired it with delicate gold jewellery and a small bag I’d bought to match.

When I glanced at the mirror, heat flamed across my face. My body had never looked like this before.

The bathroom door clicked open. Matteo stepped out with nothing but a towel slung dangerously low on his hips, droplets sliding down the sharp V of his abdomen. He paused, caught me staring, and a slow grin spread across his mouth.

“Adriana.” His voice wrapped around me, low and rough. “I’m your husband. If you want to stare at what’s yours, stare.”

My throat went dry. I turned back to the vanity, pretending to fuss with my hair, though I couldn’t stop the heat building between my thighs.

He didn’t push, just tugged on a pale pink dress shirt and black slacks. It was cute that he wanted to match with me. I had never seen him in any colour.

When I finally stood, he kissed my hand again. “You look beautiful, princess.”

I slipped on a white fur coat because New York evenings were already sharp with cold. Matteo led me outside, holding my hand the whole way.

The guards at the gate had swollen eyes and split lips, evidence of Matteo’s wrath. My chest swelled with something dangerous—pride, maybe even safety.

Outside, a sleek black sports car gleamed under the lights. Matteo opened the door with a flourish. “Get in.”

I raised a brow. “What car is this?”

He grinned, boyish for the first time all day. “Bugatti Chiron.”

I rolled my eyes, but my lips betrayed me with the faintest smile.

We slid into the city, Lana Del Rey’s The Other Woman spilling from the speakers. I turned it up, letting the haunting voice fill the silence. Matteo’s hands tightened on the wheel, his jaw ticking.

I broke the silence first. “Next time you want to bring one of your girls, don’t bring them into the house.”

His head whipped toward me, eyes fierce. “You know it wasn’t like that. Adriana, I have you… the woman I’ve always wanted. I don’t need anyone else.”

His words made my stomach twist. I pressed my thighs together, heat blooming low. I swallowed hard. “Does this car go fast?”

His smirk returned. “Of course. It’s a sports car.”

“Then show me.” I widened my eyes in mock innocence. “Please.”

He sighed like I was impossible. And then, with a flick of his wrist, the city lights blurred. My breath ripped from my throat in a squeal of laughter as New York streaked by, all neon and shadow.

He glanced at me, his usual severity softened by something boyish, almost pure. For once, he didn’t look like a Don. He just looked like Matteo.

By the time we pulled up to the restaurant, my cheeks hurt from smiling.

Relief washed through me when I saw the place was empty. Confusion too. He noticed.

“I booked the entire restaurant,” he said smoothly, his palm warm against my lower back. “Privacy. I know you’re wary of being in public with me.”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

We sat at the center table, candles flickering, an indoor waterfall whispering in the background. The statues lining the walls looked like something out of Rome.

The food arrived, and it was shrimp, pasta, and risotto.

I nearly moaned at the first bite. I hadn’t eaten all day.

Matteo leaned back, watching me.

“What? Do I look weird?” I asked, heat rising in my cheeks.

“You don’t look weird,” he said, reaching to graze my cheek. “You look beautiful. I like watching you eat.”

My laugh came out breathless, my thighs pressing together as heat pooled lower. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

His eyes sharpened. “I’ve been in therapy for three years.”

I blinked. “Therapy?”

“Because I used to jerk off to the thought of having you.” His voice dropped lower, rougher. “And I had an obsession problem.”

I choked on my wine. “Matteo, you’re insane.”

“You made me insane, Adriana.”

The table felt too small, the space between us nonexistent. Electricity crackled in the air. My hand twitched toward him before I could think.

And then his mouth was on mine.

Our lips crashed together, desperate, messy, consuming. His tongue forced my mouth open, tasting, taking.

My body gave out, and I found myself sitting on the table

He put his hand through his hair and looked at me. I was still panting, my face had turned red, pinkish.

He threw all the silverware on the ground, and it fell with a clank, clattering to the floor.

“Matteo,” I gasped. “You’re giving them work.”

“They’ll understand. I pay them a fortune.”

His mouth moved to my neck, his hands sliding up to my breasts, pinching my nipples through the thin silk until sparks shot down my spine.

I wrapped my legs around him, feeling him hard against me, and more heat and moisture pooled between my legs.

He bit the nipple in his mouth, and I screamed, grabbing the tablecloth.

“Fuck—do it again,” I begged.

He growled, biting harder, and I came violently, my body shaking against him, stars bursting behind my eyelids. He held me through it, his mouth relentless, his hand gripping my thigh like he’d never let me go.

“Lie back, princess,” he commanded.

I obeyed without thinking.

The cool wood pressed against my back as he slid my thong down with his teeth, eyes never leaving mine. He kissed down my stomach, reverent, almost worshipful, until his mouth finally reached me.

The first lick sent me arching off the table. His tongue slid inside me, fucking me slow, then faster, his fingers pressing down on my clit until I was clawing the tablecloth, screaming his name.

“Please,” I begged. “Please don’t stop.”

He pulled back, his lips glistening. “Say it louder.”

“Fuck Matteo, please!”

His mouth crashed back against me, tongue driving in, sucking, licking, devouring. I shattered again, shaking so hard the candles nearly toppled.

Before I could catch my breath, he spun me around, bending me over the table, my breasts and ass bare. His hands spread my ass as far as they could go, and his mouth was on me again from behind, tongue circling, plunging, tasting everywhere.

I whimpered, shamelessly rubbing myself against his face, chasing the friction.

“Fuck that’s my good girl,” he rasped between licks.

He was drawing out the orgasm; it was deliciously sweet.

And when his finger teased the tight ring of my ass while his tongue devoured my cunt, the pressure snapped. I shattered, coming violently all over his face, my back arching high as he held me open.

My juices spilled into his mouth, his chin, dripping shamelessly down to the floor, and still he licked, hungry, worshipping, refusing to let me go.

I collapsed against the wood, trembling.

Matteo rose slowly, his mouth smeared with my juices, his eyes burning. He leaned down, kissed me hard, making me taste myself. His hand fisted my hair, keeping me in place.

“You’ll never eat at another table without thinking of me again,” he promised against my lips.

And I believed him.