"I—" I swallowed against his palm. "I was trying to prove myself. To my father. He thinks I'm useless."
"And you thought breaking into my club would change his mind?"
"I thought gathering intelligence would show him I'm more than just decorative."
Matteo studied my face, his dark eyes cataloging every detail. The contacts I was wearing. The makeup contouring my features. The expensive shirt that wasn't mine.
"You're an idiot," he said finally.
"Probably."
"Giuseppe sent his youngest son into enemy territory on what? A test? A dare? A suicide mission?"
"Does it matter?"
His grip on my throat tightened slightly. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to remind me who had the power here. "It matters because I'm trying to decide what to do with you."
"You could let me go."
"I could." His smile was cold. "But I won't."
Fear spiked through me, sharp and clarifying. "What are you going to do?"
"I'm keeping you."
"You're—what?"
"You walked into my territory wearing a wire and carrying a camera. You photographed sensitive documents. You compromised my security." His thumb stroked along my jaw, almost gentle. Almost tender. "That makes you mine until I decide otherwise."
"That's kidnapping."
"It's consequences."
I shoved at his chest, but it was like pushing against a brick wall. He didn't budge. "My father will come for me."
"Good." Matteo's smile turned vicious. "I've been looking for an excuse to go to war with Giuseppe Romano. You just gave me one."
He stepped back suddenly, releasing me. I sagged against the desk, my legs shaky.
"Strip."
I stared at him. "What?"
"The shirt. The contacts. Whatever else you're wearing that isn't yours. Strip. I want to see the real you."
"No."
"It wasn't a request."
We stared at each other. My heart was still racing, adrenaline singing through my veins. Every instinct I had screamed at me to fight, to run, to do something other than stand here and let this happen.
But there was nowhere to run. And fighting Matteo DeLuca would end with me bleeding on the floor.
So I reached for the contacts first, plucking them out with shaking fingers. My green eyes stared back at him, defiant despite the fear churning in my gut.
"Better," he said. "Now the shirt."
I hesitated.
