And just like that, he was gone.
I turned to find Matteo already watching me, far too relaxed in his tailored suit, his big frame relaxed into the chair like it was made for him. He looked like sin against velvet, sipping something dark and expensive, one brow arched in lazy amusement.
“You have got to be kidding me,” I said, crossing my legs, my heels catching the light. “Of all the people I could be stuck beside tonight, it just had to be you.”
His smile deepened, slow and deliberate. “Don’t sound so excited,Donna.You’ll give me a complex.”
“As if you don’t already.” I rolled my eyes. “I bet you have a Hero, God, and Savior complex.”
He scratched the light scruff on his jaw, pretending to think, though his voice came out obviously teasing me. “Well, I do tend to be the protector of those around me...”
“Trust me, Matteo. I could sit in a room full of goddamn clowns and feel safer.”
He chuckled, low and rich, like he was savoring every second of my irritation. “Is thatbig,bad,scaryFrancesca DeMone’s only fear? Clowns?”
When my jaw tensed and I didn’t reply, he was having a field day.
“You’ll be safe with me,Donna. I won’t let any clowns come near you within fifty miles. See? Good thing you sat next to me.”
I flicked my gaze to him, sharp as glass. “I didn’t choose this seat. My brother did.”
His eyes were somber. “Then remind me to send Tony flowers.”
“You are impossible.”
“The word you were looking for isirresistible.”
I scoffed, but my throat betrayed me with the faintest hitch. He caught it – of course he did – and his grin sharpened like a blade, satisfaction flickering across his face.
“You know…” he leaned closer, just enough that his cologne curled between us, warm smoke and spice. “You could at least try to enjoy yourself. A fight night, front row, the best company money can buy.”
“Oh yes, the highlight of my evening: sitting next to the one man in Vegas I can’t stand.”
“Funny,” Matteo murmured, voice pitched low as the announcer’s booming call echoed through the room. “Myhighlight is sitting next to the one woman in Vegas no one can track down.”
The crowd surged, chanting Tony’s name, the lights shifting to white-hot as the fighters prepared to enter the ring. The sound vibrated up through the floor, rattling against the cage of my ribs.
And still, somehow, Matteo’s gaze burned hotter than all of it.
The cage closed with a metallic clang that echoed through the underground hall. The crowd roared, voices slamming together like thunder. Spotlights cut through the smoke, trapping my brother in white fire as he stepped into the ring – sharp, fast, ready.
The announcer bellowed his name, and the chanting rose higher. “K.O. TONY! K.O. TONY! K.O. TONY!”
I braced myself for Matteo to join them, to bark his support, maybe even to rise to his feet. Men like him were loud, primal, easy to rile up in the blood and heat of a fight.
But Matteo didn’t move.
His arm stayed stretched across the back of my seat, his glass resting against his thigh, his body angled loose and confident. He looked at Tony with quiet assurance, like he already knew the outcome. No tension. No doubt. Just… Calm.
It did something to me.
I shifted, crossing my legs, but the movement only pressed me closer to the heat of him, the scent of him – smoke and expensive leather, and something darker beneath it. My skin burned where his arm brushed the edge of my shoulder, though I told myself it was just the lights, just the crowd, just the heat of the room.
The bell rang.
Tony stepped forward – confident or cocky, no one knew. The other fighter staggered back, already on defense. Tony never let a hit land hard – he slipped through punches with a grin, sharp and taunting, drawing it out for the crowd. He wanted to give them a show, and they ate it up.
Every cheer rattled the balcony, but I barely heard it.
