I closed my eyes and let myself believe him.
Just for tonight, I'd stop thinking about Giuseppe and the FBI investigation and the fact that Matteo's partners probably wanted him to kill me or trade me or do anything except keep me locked in this room.
Just for tonight, I'd let myself have this.
Tomorrow I could worry about consequences. About what it meant that I'd fallen for my captor. About whether this was real or just Stockholm syndrome or some combination of both that I couldn't untangle.
But tonight, I was exactly where I wanted to be.
In Matteo DeLuca's arms. Safe and wanted and chosen.
CHAPTER 8: MATTEO
I WOKE WITHStefan in my arms and knew everything had changed.
Not regret—I couldn't regret something that had felt that right. But the weight of what I'd done settled in my chest like stone. I'd crossed a line I couldn't uncross. Turned captivity into something else entirely. Transformed strategy into obsession made real.
Stefan was still asleep, his face peaceful in the early morning light filtering through the high window. His light brown hair was messy from my hands. His lips were swollen from kissing. Marks I'd left decorated his throat and collarbones—visible proof that he was mine now in ways that had nothing to do with locked doors and keycard access.
I couldn't pretend this was about leverage anymore. Couldn't tell my partners I was working on extracting information. Couldn't maintain the fiction that keeping Stefan served any purpose except that I wanted him and couldn't let him go.
I was fucked.
Stefan stirred. His eyes opened slowly, adjusting to wakefulness. When his gaze found me, something vulnerable flickered across his face before he locked it down.
"You're staring," he said, voice still rough from sleep.
"Can't help it."
He was quiet for a moment. Then: "Do you regret it?"
"I should."
"That's not what I asked."
I studied his face. The uncertainty hiding behind the question. The fear that I'd wake up and realize this had been a mistake. That I'd hurt him or push him away or turn cold now that I'd gotten what I wanted.
Instead of answering, I kissed him.
Soft at first. Gentle. Then deeper as he responded, his body melting against mine. His hand came up to cup my jaw, thumb brushing over my cheek in a gesture that was almost tender.
"No regrets," I said against his mouth. "Not even close."
Relief flooded his expression. Then heat as I rolled him onto his back and settled between his thighs.
"Matteo—we just—I'm probably still—"
"I know." I kissed down his throat. "I'll be careful. Gentle. If it's too much, tell me."
"It won't be too much."
"Stefan—"
"Please." His green eyes held mine. "I want this. Want you. Again."
I couldn't deny him anything when he looked at me like that.
I kissed him thoroughly first, taking my time with his mouth. Learning the sounds he made when I sucked on his bottom lip. The way his breath hitched when I deepened the kiss. The little gasps he couldn't contain when I pulled back just enough to make him chase my mouth.
