The car smelled like leather and power.

I crossed my arms, still irritated from the morning, but Matteo just sat back like a king on his throne, watching me with that infuriating half-smirk.

“You’re quiet,” he said finally.

“Maybe I don’t feel like talking,” I muttered, staring out the window.

He chuckled under his breath. “So dramatic. What happened to the little lioness from last night? The one who demanded to come along?”

“I didn’t demand,” I shot back.

“You did,” he said smugly. “And now you’re sulking. Interesting.”

“I’m not sulking.”

“You’re adorable when you lie, bella.”

I turned to glare at him. “Stop calling me that.”

His smirk deepened. “Then stop acting like it suits you so well.”

I groaned and leaned back in my seat. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he said lazily, “you’re still here.”

The driver snorted softly, clearly enjoying this, and I shot him a glare too.

“Eyes on the road!” I barked.

Matteo laughed, a low sound that curled in my stomach. “Bossy.”

“Better than being an arrogant jerk.”

“Touché.” He stretched his legs out, looking far too relaxed for someone heading to a meeting that could end in bloodshed.

“You don’t look nervous at all,” I said finally.

He glanced at me. “Why would I be nervous?”

“Because—” I gestured vaguely. “—this is mafia stuff. Dangerous people. Guns. Death. Ringing a bell?”

He smirked. “I am the dangerous person, bella.”

I rolled my eyes. “Right.”

“You’ll see.”

I didn’t like the way he said that — so calm, so sure.

The warehouse was dark, the smell of oil and metal thick in the air.

Matteo walked like he owned the ground, one hand in his pocket, the other barely brushing my lower back.

I tried to match his calm steps, but my heart was hammering too hard.

Vieri was already there, lounging at the head of the table like he was the one in charge. Two guards stood behind him, guns visible.

His eyes landed on me first.

“Well, well,” Vieri said with a slow smirk. “The infamous bella. She’s prettier than I expected.”

I stiffened, instinctively stepping closer to Matteo.

Matteo’s jaw flexed. “Watch yourself.”

Vieri chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Relax, Matteo. I’m just admiring your… taste. Didn’t think you were the type to keep a pet.”

“She’s not part of this,” Matteo said coolly.

“Oh, she’s part of this now.” Vieri’s smirk widened. “Everyone in the city’s been whispering — the king of the underworld finally has a weakness.”

Matteo didn’t flinch. “Careful, Vieri. You’re speaking like a man who wants to die tonight.”

But Vieri kept going, clearly enjoying himself.

“You think you scare me? You’ve gone soft,” Vieri sneered. “This girl — this civilian — she’s all over the streets with you. My men saw her screaming your name when you pulled her from that attack. Pathetic.”

I swallowed hard, my stomach twisting.

Matteo took one slow step closer. “Try saying that again.”

Vieri leaned forward, grinning. “I said you’ve gone soft. Matteo Romano, king of nothing but a bleeding heart. You used to be ruthless. You used to make men piss themselves by just walking into a room. Now look at you — babysitting some brat you should’ve left for dead.”

My breath caught.

Matteo didn’t speak.

Vieri took that as permission to keep going.

“She’s not even yours, is she? Just some random girl who had the bad luck to see your pretty little crime family in action. You should’ve dumped her body and been done with it. Instead, you bring her here? What, you gonna marry her? Play house while the rest of us do the real work?”

Matteo moved faster than I could process.

In one fluid motion, he slammed Vieri’s head against the table, his gun pressed to the man’s throat.

The guards froze, one of them actually stepping back.

“You talk too much,” Matteo said softly, his voice calm — too calm.

Vieri chuckled, blood dripping from his nose. “There he is. The Matteo I remember.”

“Last chance,” Matteo said, his finger tightening on the trigger.

“Do it,” Vieri spat, smiling through bloody teeth. “Show her who you really are.”

BANG.

The sound tore through the warehouse.

Vieri’s smirk fell away, his body slumping against the table before sliding to the floor, lifeless.

Blood sprayed across the wood, across Matteo’s shirt — and onto me.

I gasped, stumbling back, my hand flying to my mouth.

Matteo holstered his gun with terrifying calm, turned to his men, and simply said:

“Burn it.”

Then he grabbed my wrist, pulling me toward the exit without another word.

For a moment, all I could hear was my own heartbeat.

Matteo turned slowly, holstering his gun like nothing had happened.

His shirt was soaked, crimson dripping down his hands.

I realized I was shaking.

“Come on,” he said calmly, taking my hand. “We’re leaving.”

I didn’t speak. I couldn’t.

The car ride home was silent, thick with the metallic smell of blood that clung to both of us.

I could still hear the gunshot, still see Vieri’s smirk disappearing as his body went limp.

By the time we reached the house, my hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

I didn’t wait for Matteo to say anything — I bolted straight to the nearest bathroom.

The moment the door clicked shut, I turned on the water and stepped under it fully clothed, scrubbing at my arms like I could erase the memory.

But I couldn’t.

No matter how hard I rubbed, I could still feel the blood — on my skin, in my hair, soaking into my bones.

The door opened.

I froze.

Matteo stepped inside, shirtless now, his chest and arms smeared with blood. His dark hair was damp from rain, sticking to his temples, and his eyes burned like he hadn’t taken a single breath since pulling the trigger.

“This one’s occupied,” I said shakily, trying to sound strong but failing.

He didn’t stop.

He didn’t even blink.

He just stepped into the shower fully, his pants still on, water running down his body in dark red streams.

“Use another bathroom!” My voice cracked.

He didn’t move.

Instead, he reached out and caught my wrist, his grip firm but not painful.

“Look at me, bella.”

I forced myself to meet his eyes.

“You’re shaking,” he said quietly.

“Of course I’m shaking!” The words ripped out of me. “You just— you killed someone, Matteo! You killed him right in front of me!”

His jaw tightened.

“He would have killed you. Do you understand that?”

Tears burned my eyes, mixing with the shower water.

“You should hate me,” he murmured, stepping closer until the steam felt too hot, until there was nowhere left for me to go but back against the cold tile wall.

“I don’t,” I whispered before I could stop myself.

His eyes darkened.

He reached up and brushed wet strands of hair from my face, his thumb dragging across my trembling lip.

“You’re still scared,” he said softly.

“Of you?”

“Of everything.” His voice was low, dangerous. “But you’re not running.”

I swallowed hard, chest rising and falling too fast. “Maybe I should.”

“Try,” he said simply, his hand dropping from my face to my hip. “I dare you.”

My breath caught. I didn’t move.

I couldn’t.

His mouth brushed mine — not a kiss, not yet, just the ghost of one — and I felt my knees go weak.

“Matteo—”

“Shh.” His lips finally claimed mine, deep and hungry.

I gasped, grabbing his shoulders as his wet body pressed into me, hard muscle and heat pinning me against the wall. His kiss tasted like rain and danger, like everything I should stay away from.

But I didn’t stop him.

“Tell me to stop,” he said against my mouth, his hand sliding lower, gripping my thigh, lifting it slightly.

I didn’t.

Instead, I let out the smallest sound — a soft, desperate whimper — and that was all the permission he needed.

His hand slid between my thighs, slow and deliberate.

I gasped, my head hitting the wall as his finger pressed inside me, a sharp mix of shock and pleasure making my breath stutter.

“Dio,” he groaned against my neck, kissing the wet skin there. “So tight, bella. So perfect.”

I bit my lip, my hands clutching at his shoulders, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer.

“Matteo—”

He stilled suddenly, withdrawing his hand, leaving me empty and aching.

“When I finally take you,” he murmured darkly, his mouth grazing my ear, “you won’t just be wet from the shower.”

My entire body went hot, a pulse pounding low in my stomach.

He stepped back, leaving me breathless, and grabbed a towel like nothing had happened.

“Get cleaned up,” he said casually, heading for the door. “Dinner will be ready in an hour.”

The door clicked shut, and I sank to the floor, water pouring over me, my heart slamming against my ribs.

I hated him.

I wanted him.

And God help me — I wasn’t sure which was worse.