“Donna…” His voice was smooth, in a way that grated and tempted all at once. He steadied me slowly, helping me find my balance again on my incredibly high heels, as iftesting how long I’d let him touch me. “I didn’t realize Vegas was on your schedule.”
I straightened, brushing him off, heat prickling my skin where he’d touched me. “Don’t play dumb. You knew I’d be here.”
One corner of his mouth curved, just barely. He took a sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving mine. “If I’d known, I would’ve put in as much effort as you have in looking so beautifulfor me.”
“Trust me, you tried.” I glanced at him deliberately – sharp suit, undone collar, expensive watch glinting under the chandeliers. My lips curved into something darker. “Whereas,I– will be in a grave before I put anything onfor you.”
His laugh was low, effortless, enough to draw the attention of a cocktail waitress who passed us by, her eyes flicking over Matteo. His attention stayed solely on me.
“That’s because women don’t put on clothes for me,Donna.” His eyes lowered to my cleavage in the dress, his gaze burning me there. “They take them off.”
“I’m shocked pigs like you still get laid.”
“You wound me,princesa.” He leaned closer, just enough that I caught the faintest, maddening trace of smoke and cologne. “But if insulting me makes it easier for you to stand this close… Byallmeans…” He murmured, voice all sin, as he took so much of my personal space, it feltintimate. “Continue.”
I tilted my head, refusing to give him the satisfaction of stepping back. “I don’t need to insult you, Matteo. You do that just by existing.”
His eyes glinted. “And yet, here you are. In my arms not two seconds ago.”
“Oh, please! Get over yourself. It was the crowd,” I snapped.
“Of courseit was, Francesca.”
The noise of the casino swelled around us – dice rolling, chips clattering, laughter spilling from tables. But in that moment, it felt like we stood in the still center of it all, every movement charged, every glance heavier than it should have been.
And God help me, I couldn’t look away.
Heat flared in my chest – part anger, part something else I refused to name. My hand twitched against my side, wanting to push him back, but it didn’t move.
“You think you know me. But you have no idea what I’m capable of.”
He studied me for a long moment, his gaze flicking from my eyes to my mouth and back again. The air between us stretched tight.
“No,” He murmured, eyes open and sincere. “But I’d like to.”
The words hit harder than they should have. My pulse stumbled, and I hated that he could probably see it in the curve of my throat.
“Francesca!” Tony’s voice cut through the noise, loud and commanding as ever. He was on the other side of the room, his crew flanking him like shadows. “Let’s go. Both of you,” He added to Matteo.
Just like that, the tension fractured like glass underfoot.
I felt Matteo’s eyes linger on me for a beat longer, heavy with something unspoken. Then he straightened, finishing the last sip of his drink before setting the glass aside.
“We’ll finish this conversation later,princesa.”
He said it like it wasour secret.
Like me and him actually had something worth hiding.
I exhaled, too hot to keep arguing.
Forcing my shoulders square, I turned toward Tony. But as we fell into motion, I could still feel Matteo’s gaze on my skin – the rough graze of his suit brushing my arm – like a touch that hadn’t quite ended.
The VIP section stood just before the ring like a throne. The roar of the crowd carried over, smoke and sweat and money thick in the air.
Tony, of course, had secured the best seats. Front row. Uninterrupted view. And because my brother was either a sadist or thought he was funny, he’d leftmesitting right next to Matteo Di’Ablo.
He smirked, clapping Matteo on the shoulder. “Prime seats for my prime people. Enjoy yourselves, yeah? I’ll be back when it’s my turn to kill.”
