Heat rises in my cheeks. “They’re just things,” I manage, forcing defiance into my voice. “Things that could easily be replaced.”
“Are they?” He picks up a monogrammed flask, turns it over in his hand. “Or are they trophies? Scalps collected from every man you’ve fucked and left?”
The crude assessment hits too close to home, making me flinch. “It’s not like that,” I argue.
“No?” His eyes find mine, holding me in place more effectively than if he’d tied me down. “Then what is it like, Raven? Explain it to me.”
How can I explain something I barely understand myself? The compulsion has always been there. Even when I was a kid. The rush of power each time I slipped away with my prize, a small victory in a world where men too often hold all the cards.
“It’s…” I struggle for words that won’t make me sound pathetic or broken. “Complicated. Some women knit. I collect memories. We all cope somehow.”
Returning to the box, he arches his eyebrow. “Do you have daddy issues? Trust issues?”
His fingers find his lighter next, lifting it with a reverence that makes my chest ache. He flicks it open, and the flame dances to life, casting flickering shadows across his face.
“They’re not all from people I’ve fucked,” I argue as though that’s the important part.
I don’t tell him that the only item I recall having in there that isn’t from someone who’s been inside me, is the ticket I stole from my twin brother’s boyfriend. He pissed me off, so I stole his ticket to a concert they were going to over ten years ago.
Matteo chuckles, a sound without humor. “Now that we have that out of the way, let’s discuss your punishment, Little Thief.”
“You’re so full of yourself,” I spit, backing away as he suddenly approaches. “It was just a lighter and you have it back now. How about we discuss you destroying my home, hmm?”
“You took something that wasn’t yours.” He advances, steady, deliberate. “There’s a price for that.”
My back hits the wall. “Stay back, you psycho.”
His hand wraps around my throat, warm, precise—like he’s testing the weight of a choice. “You feel that?” he murmurs. “That’s mercy. You owe me, Little Thief.”
Panic needles under my skin. “It’sjusta lighter.”
“It was my father’s,” he corrects softly, thumb stroking my jaw as if he’s soothing the very fear he’s causing. “You didn’t steal metal. You stole a memory. So you’ll give me something back.”
“Money?” I choke out.
He laughs against my cheek. “I don’t collect cash. I collect favors.” The word lands heavy, alive.
I gulp. “A-are you going to kill m-me?” I stutter.
“No,” he breathes. “I’m not going to kill you for being exactly who you are. I’d rather keep you that way.”
Fuck, there aren’t enough pins in the world to pretend this isn’t happening.
A tremor runs through me. “I… I…” I’m gasping too hard to speak. “It was wrong. What I did was wrong. I-I’m sorry, I just… fuck.” The words tumble out, useless, tripping over each other until I force myself to stop.
Tilting his head to the side, he studies me for so long I start wondering if I made sense at all. “I believe you,” he says, thumb brushing along the underside of my jaw. “It would be a waste when there are so many more… interesting options.”
“I’m not afraid of you,” I lie, chin tilting upward in defiance even as his hand maintains its position on my throat. Brilliant, Raven. Taunt the Mafia while his hand’s on your throat.
“Yes, you are.” His free hand comes up to brush a strand of hair from my face, the gesture almost tender. “You’re probably also wondering what I’m going to do to you. Wondering whether I’ll hurt you or fuck you. Wondering which you want more.”
“I don’t want either,” I protest, but the words sound hollow even to my own ears.
“More lies,” he sighs, applying the pressure to my throat—not enough to cut off air, just enough to remind me how easily he could. “I thought we were past that.”
His body presses closer, pinning me to the wall with his hips. I can feel him hardening against me, and my treacherous body responds with a rush of heat between my legs.
“Here’s how this plays out, Little Thief.” His lips graze my ear, breath hot. “You’re going to lie on that bed and prove you understand the meaning of restitution.”
