Well… okay then. “And umm… did you? Get revenge, I mean?”
His smile is sharp and cold. “Every single one of the Greco scum is dead. Their families too.” He clears his throat. “Well, almost. The only one I left alive was the youngest boy. He wasn’t home, and I saw no reason to chase him down.”
The matter-of-fact way he says it sends a chill down my spine, a stark reminder of exactly who I’m sitting across from. This isn’t just dinner—it’s a glimpse behind the curtain of who Matteo truly is.
I should be horrified. I should be plotting my escape. Instead, I find myself reaching across the table to cover his hand with mine. “Good,” I say, meaning it. “I think I’d want revenge if someone killed my parents.”
A shiver runs down my spine at the thought.
“Actually, I know I would,” I correct. “The shit that was done to Leo was enough to awaken whatever darkness lives inside me. If someone had…” I’m unable to finish the sentence.
If someone killed my family, I don’t think I’d have a shred of humanity left. I’d hunt the fuckers down. Or at least I’d fantasize about it. A lot. So no, I’m not judging or condemning Matteo for doing whatever he did.
Something flashes in his eye—surprise, maybe—before his expression softens. He turns his hand to capture mine, thumb stroking across my knuckles in a gesture so gentle it makes my breath catch.
“Show me,” he blurts.
“Show you what?”
“How to pick a lock. Show me your dad’s lesson.”
I laugh, surprised. “Here? Now?”
“Why not?”
I shake my head, amused by his request, but reach for the butter knife, anyway. “Okay, so the principle is simple. You need tension and manipulation.” I hold the knife like a tension wrench. “You apply pressure here while using something else to manipulate the pins inside.”
As I demonstrate with the knife and a coffee stirrer, Matteo watches with genuine interest, asking questions and even laughing when I tell him about teenage me using these skills to break into the school’s swimming pool at midnight.
By the time we finish dessert, I’ve moved to his side of the booth, our shoulders touching as I continue explaining different lock mechanisms. His arm drapes casually behind me, and I lean into him.
This feels dangerous in a completely different way—not the fear of violence or reprisal, but the danger of actually liking the man whose world I’ve been forced into.
Of forgetting who and what he is because his laugh makes my stomach flip and his hand feels right against the small of my back. Of… not giving two shits who he is apart from mine. That’s who Matteo’s becoming.Mine.
“You’re full of surprises, Little Thief,” he murmurs, close enough that I can feel his breath on my neck.
I turn to respond and find his face inches from mine, his gaze dropping to my lips with unmistakable intent. My heartbeat quickens, anticipation curling low in my belly.
But before he can close the distance, the restaurant door opens, admitting a group of men in suits and women in scraps of fabric. Matteo tenses immediately, his body shifting from relaxed to guarded in an instant.
His arm tightens around me, drawing me closer to his side as his attention fixes on the newcomers. “This means Tony’s here,”he murmurs against my ear, the intimacy of the gesture now a cover for something else.
“Tony?” I whisper, not understanding.
Matteo nods. “My contact. It’s someone I’ve been waiting for.”
Realization dawns, cold and sobering. This isn’t a date. This was never a date; it’s work. The intimacy, the personal conversations, the shared dessert were all just a setup for this moment.
I pull away from him slightly, something hard and hurt forming in my chest. “So that’s what this is,” I say, unable to keep the edge from my voice. “A… meet and fucking greet.”
Matteo’s brow furrows. “What did you think it was?”
I want to say a date, but the word sticks in my throat, humiliation burning hot across my cheeks. Of course, he wouldn’t take me on a real date. I’m a tool, an asset, a means to an end.
But he said he loves me. That he’sinlove with me. What the actual fuck?
“Nothing,” I snap, shifting further away. “I didn’t think it was anything.”
