He leans closer, angling his head like he’s coming in for a kiss. “Glad to hear you’re on board,” he rasps.
“And just so you know, I’m an excellent actress,” I gulp. “But I’ll need some boundaries.”
“Like?”
“My work is off limits to you,” I say sternly. “And leave poor Holston alone. You’re messing with my career here, and I worked hard to be where I am.”
“I’ll leave Nathan alone,” he grins. “I’ll even consider forgetting about the favors he owes me if—”
I beam up at him. “Good…” Then I trail off, realizing I was just about to celebrate his ‘if’. Oops. “If what?”
Matteo cups my cheek, and I lean into the gesture. “Never mind.” His voice is husky and deliciously low. “Any other conditions?”
My pulse jumps again, but I don’t show it. “I’ll let you know if I think of any.” My voice is all sugary while my eyes promise blood.
Christ, this entire conversation is a mindfuck. If it wasn’t for all the pins I’ve put in things, I’m sure I’d be running for the hills. But mama Carter didn’t raise no fool. Pins are my go-to survival tactic.
He laughs and turns his arm to catch my wrist, squeezing just enough to make my nails retreat. “We’re going to have so much fun together, Little Thief.”
My smile doesn’t falter, but inside, something cold and sharp twists. “I can’t wait,” I lie, and it sounds beautiful. “Now tell me, what kind of woman are you dating?”
“What do you mean?” he asks, sounding baffled by my complete one-eighty on the conversation.
I sigh. “Well, am I just arm candy? Am I spiritual? Do I cleanse people’s auras and demand that the Feng Shui match Mercury’s retrograde?”
I meant to stop my questions there. Really, I did. But one look at his baffled expression, and I can’t help myself.
“Do I suffer from Tourette or amnesia? Do I secretly begrudge my parents for not driving me across state lines so I could attend a boyband concert when I was twelve?”
When he doesn’t answer immediately but instead looks like he can’t decide if my questions are serious or not, I realize he won’t be any help with this. It’ll be up to me to sell the charade and create the kind of woman Matteo would date.
By the time we step outside La Volta, the air’s cooled, carrying that faint scent of rain that always hits just before a storm.Matteo’s driver waits by the car, standing straight like he’s carved from marble.
Matteo opens the door, gesturing for me to get in, but instead of sliding inside, I plant my hand on the roof and say, “I want to go to the Leone Room.”
He pauses, one brow lifting. “Now?”
“Yes, now,” I say, matching his tone, daring him to call me out. “You said everyone needs to believe we’re together, right? Then it makes sense to start showing up together. And since it’s your place, I should see it.”
His eyes narrow as if he’s trying to read the subtext. Maybe there are some—mostly that I want to prove I’m not scared of his world. Or of him.
“You think I’m showing you my playground on our first date?” he asks, half amused.
I cross my arms. “I think if I’m supposed to play the part, I should know the set.”
For a second, he just looks at me with a quiet, assessing stare. Then his lips curve, slow and sharp. “Fine. Let’s go.”
I slide into the car, pulse quickening as Matteo follows, and the door shuts behind him, sealing us inside. While he taps away at his phone, I watch the city blur past in streaks of gold and red, the hum of the engine filling the silence between us.
“Are you trying to impress me?” I ask finally.
“No,” he says simply. “You wanted a glimpse. I’m indulging you.”
“Indulging,” I repeat, turning the word over in my mouth like it tastes foreign. “That’s what we’re calling it?”
He glances at me, mouth twitching. “What would you call it?”
“Testing boundaries,” I say, meeting his gaze head-on. “Seeing how far I can push before you remind me who’s in charge.”
