“You walked away again.”
God, this man just didn’t give up.
“I needed space,” Turning, I met his gaze, sharp light-brown eyes that had already burned holes through my composure all night. “From you being on top of me and suffocating me all evening.”
Matteo’s smirk spread slow, dangerous, and far too confident. He leaned closer, voice dipping low enough that I swore I felt it hum against my skin. “Princesa,don’t tempt me. You’d love getting suffocated by my weight.”
Heat shot up my neck, and I nearly choked on my air. I snapped my eyes back to him, furious that his words could ignite me so quickly. “You’re crude.”
“But right,” he murmured, utterly unbothered, his gaze never leaving mine.
I turned away, pretending to study the dance floor, my jaw tight. Couples swayed to the music, bodies close, laughter spilling around us.
“Ah, now I see. You’re mad.” Matteo said softly, the teasing in his tone undeniable.
“I am not mad.”
“No? Then why’d you run off the second that woman touched me?”
“Because you were boring me.”
“Boring you?” His laugh was low, rich. “You’re jealous,Donna.”
I faced him again, glaring. “I am Francesca DeMone.I do not get jealous.”
“Then why is your face red right now?”
I exhaled sharply, digging my finger into his chest a little harder than necessary. “You really think every woman falls at your feet, don’t you?”
He leaned in just close enough that I caught the faintest whiff of his cologne – something dark that clung to him like sin itself. “Don’t really care about every woman. Just the one standing in front of me.”
My heart betrayed me, thudding so loud I swore he could hear it.
The music swelled behind us, the kind of bass that vibrated through the floorboards, but the only sound I really heard was his voice – steady, low, and maddening.
“I should clarify something,” Matteo said, his eyes holding mine like he refused to let me slip away again. “That woman earlier – I turned around on instinct. I barely spoke to her.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Would you rather I ignored her?”
“No. That would’ve been disrespectful.”
“Hm.” He leaned closer now, his broad frame cutting into my space like he owned it. “I didn’t talk to her more than was necessary.”
My suspicion narrowed my gaze. “What did she want, anyways?”
His mouth curved slowly, like he enjoyed dangling the answer in front of me. “To go home with me.”
I let out a sharp scoff, rolling my eyes. I turned, ready to storm off, my heels already striking against the polished floor. But before I could take more than a step, his hand wrapped firmly around mine, pulling me back. The touch was hot, grounding, and far too steady for how quickly my pulse spiked.
“I made it clear I wasn’t interested,” he said, voice low, close enough to curl around me.
“I couldn’t care less about who you do or don’t fuck, Matteo.”
His grip tightened – not enough to hurt, but enough to make me very aware of his strength. His eyes burned down into mine, honey-gold with that glint of amusement I wanted to slap off his face.
“See,” Matteo murmured, “But I think you do care, Francesca.”
